Counting Down

My last day is a week from tomorrow. I'm still a little bit in denial about it.

I have spent this week training my replacement. That has been interesting. She's going to be fine as soon as the "deer in the headlights" phase passes. The funny thing is that there are times, especially in the afternoon, when she says, "What do you usually do now?" and the real answer is, "Hang out and gossip." The training answer is, "Let's look at some of the client schedules."

And we've all been on our best behavior. She is young (24) and ... sheltered (raised Holdeman Mennonite) ... and everyone in my highly inappropriate department has been scared to death that they would offend her or scare her away.
She's fine.
She even had a margarita at dinner tonight. Everyone was shocked... but the thing I've noticed about her is that while she does not use bad language or gossip about people (so far) she does seem really amused when we do.

It just feels weird to help someone feel at home when I am really not ready to move on.

I will get there. I'm sure I will.

In eleven days I'll be coming home from my own first day at my new job... I'll probably be exhausted and overwhelmed and have the "deer in the headlights" thing going on. I will be sad and I will miss my crew...

But my commute will be shorter.

Some Kind of Blue

I haven't yet turned on the air conditioner. The cats have responded by alternately napping on low, cool spots and napping on my head while I try to sleep. I think it's a sort of protest... but I can't stand to turn on the A/C before it's really really necessary, just like I can't stand to turn the heat on in the winter until the cats start knitting little hats and boots out of their own discarded fur.

I hate how much money I spend on "essentials" like electricity and water, as it seriously impedes my ability to afford the things I really need: more yarn and books and dinners out with friends.

And my friends are all doing fine-ish... some better than others. We're all so busy with the way things are going that we haven't had a lot of time (or energy) for each other. It happens. That has made me sad, but what is there to do? We communicate in the same way I communicate with my friends who live far, far away: email, texts, Facebook and Twitter. Sometimes life gets in the way and that has to be enough.

I think that is one of the reasons this job change is causing me so much grief. My work friends will never come close to how important my friend friends are, but lately I spend most of my awake time with them. I see them every day. I eat with them and laugh with them and we all go through the same frustrations and craziness during the day. I doubt I will retain my relationships with more than one or two of them, but right now they're filling a void.

I miss my friends.

There is just so much going on. Everyone is busy and every one has something that is occupying a good percentage of her time.

And I'm not really complaining... I am just as occupied and unavailable as everyone else. Maybe this new job will help with some of that. I'll at least be here. That's ten more hours a week that I can be present for them and for my kid. (She is doing very well right now, thanks for asking!)

I'm back in that place I hoped I would grow out of years and years ago. I'm in the transition place. The "where do I fit into the world" place. I look ahead to June 14th and I imagine myself eating lunch alone at my new desk instead of sharing communal lunch with my team. I imagine hours of reading through policy manuals and meeting scores of people whose names will refuse to stick with me for weeks. And from what I've seen there are a lot of fake nails, processed hair and pantsuits in my future. How am I ever going to fit in there?

(I know. I'm going to do my job and do it well and I'm going to find my place there. Just as soon as I convince myself to want to).

Never Say Never

I love my job. I love pretty much everything about it. I love the people I work with, I love my clients, I love the "can do" attitude that even corporate seems to embrace... I even love driving an hour each way. (I just finished listening to The Fountainhead and started The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo).
My department has grown very close and we support each other and have a great deal of fun every day.

But...

The cost of gas is killing me. I drive about 600 miles a week, I get about 17 miles to the gallon and gas is nearly $3 a gallon. I don't do the math on that... it's too depressing to contemplate... and I thought that on my sad little case manager's salary I could make it work.

I can't. Seriously.

So even though I said from the beginning that only the VA could tempt me away from my job, and even though I SWORE I would never again work for The Evil Empire, I have accepted a position with them. I start on June 14th.

The good things are: it's a 5 minute drive, my caseload will be about 2/3 smaller, I know (and like) my supervisor and I can get clinical experience.

The bad things are: it's The Evil Empire and I will miss (miss, miss) the people here. Also? Again, EVIL EMPIRE, people. I'm probably going to get killed when The Rebel Alliance blows up The Death Star. Seriously.

(In an interesting note, I got my official "welcome to The Evil Empire" letter... there were typos. I'm just saying).

Maybe it won't be as terrible as it feels.

Sideways World

Anyone watching Lost this season?
(Worry not, dear reader, this is not a long fan-post, it's just a jumping-off point).

This season the writers have created this third reality that Michelle and I have been calling Sideways World. In their Sideways World, the plane never crashed on the island and the characters get off the plane and go on with their lives as planned... except that there are weird little things that didn't exist at the beginning of the series. One of the characters, for instance, suddenly has a son that didn't exist in the beginning. Confusing, I know, but that's what Lost is best at.

So it got me thinking about my own version of Sideways World and that has turned into this weird fantasy that occupies me at weird times. I start thinking about the people in my life and the people I have lost and I wonder where they would be in Sideways World.

Maybe I would not have met Jeff. Maybe I would never have gone back to school... maybe I would have three kids and my sister would be a doctor.

Maybe I would be living with a very sweet man who would make me laugh and bring me tea when I felt crummy.

Maybe I would be happier.

I have also been reading Committed by Elizabeth Gilbert (read it, seriously, but read Eat, Pray, Love first) and she spends a lot of time talking about the glut of choices that we have in this society and how those choices are a blessing and a curse. For every choice we make there can be dozens of roads not taken, dozens of maybes. These "maybes" have the potential to make us completely insane.

There are some things in my Sideways world Fantasy that I know would be different... mostly small things, really, like my car would be new and I would have a maid and a hot tub... and there is the small matter of that very sweet man... but of the big decisions in my life I don't know what I would change.
Even my big mistakes had a purpose...

But I still find myself sitting in the back yard, listening to the sounds of my neighborhood settling in for the night and I think about how things are going in Sideways World.

Two Years

In some ways my life is so completely different than it was two years ago: job, mindset, perspective. I'm happier and more settled than I have been in a long time... which is weird for me... but in other ways I am just treading water.

There is no mystery or coincidence to the fact that the relationships I have had in the last two years have been with people who are completely unavailable. I am absolutely terrified of anything that might have a future, completely unwilling to risk that kind of dependence. I completely underestimated the emotional damage that my marriage caused.

I have forgiven him (for the most part) and I am working on forgiving myself... I am not angry with him anymore for not fighting harder, but I am still mourning the loss of that potential. We were supposed to have a life together and he was supposed to be the other half of me. I still don't feel whole without him.

But it's getting better.

I am healing and trying to grow... and some of the walls I built need to come down and that is scary.

Maybe in two more years I'll be ready to trust myself with a real relationship.

Or not.

Bad Timing, Buddy

Updates first...
First - Work last week was CRAZY. And not good crazy. Peyton Place, Drama Llama, people crying and jobs were on the line crazy. I was just an observer, but people I care about were in the middle of some serious shit. It was a tense and stifled place to be and I hopehopehope we can all take a breath and have a more normal week next week.

Second - I still have hair. I should have done it right away, before I had a chance to think about it and consider my job. I should have done it before I applied for a part-time weekend job with the county. I should have done it before I chickened out.
I suck. Though I may end up with a compromise and shave the "under layers" of my hair. Lord knows I have enough of it that losing a few layers wouldn't upset too many corporate killjoys...

Third - Yes, you read that right, I applied for a part time job at The Evil Empire once again. I'm hoping it won't suck out ALL of my soul and will make it possible to buy a better car.

Finally - It's the end of March and I am OK. I am. I have been more emotional and more likely to hide out, but all things considered I'm fine. Mostly. I'm not making any promises for Tuesday, but right this second things are smooth.

In other news, for reasons too stupid to mention my ex-boyfriend was (briefly) in my house on Friday with Bean when I wasn't home. (There is a reason he was there, he did have permission from another adult - just not exactly from me). Then he texted me from the house pretending that he was Bean using his phone - but I know her texts and it wasn't her. Then he sent me an email. And then when I logged on to a social website I found a message from him there.

Bad timing, dude.

And it's not like he's not aware that the end of March is a difficult time (read: emotional cluster fuck) for me. He was, you know, present for all of that. So he's either stupid, cruel or totally insensitive. ("D, All of the Above" anyone?)

I could ignore the intrusion into my house, and I could ignore the texts and I could ignore the email... but all of that with the message thrown in was just a little too much. I send a brief but pointed message back.

So he responds back with this "Woe is me" bullshit about how loving me scares him. Um. Yeah, if that's what you think love looks like I totally understand. The way you "loved" me is scary as hell. Gives me the shivers just thinking about feeling like that again!
Then he did the typical, "I'm a bad person and just can't express what I feel so hate me if you must."
Really? Really?!?
Oh, Sweetie, I've got nothing left in me for you and it takes actually being able to feel something to hate someone.
He also tried to turn it back on me... like I had demanded more of a relationship than he was willing to give. Well... now that I think about it, I did demand that he not fuck anyone else while we were together and that was more than he was willing to give.
Mea fucking culpa.
I did respond to his whining... he may have noticed that I am no longer pulling my punches with him. Someone ought to warn him that the next step in the progression is to aim lower.

Once bitten, twice shy, third time carry a weapon.

Is it May yet?? I need to get the fuck out of town and I need my Gene fix. I may have to figure out a way to get up there before my work trip.

Sacrifice and Grace

I have a love-love relationship with my hair. It is thick and soft and shiny.
I like to hide behind it and run my fingers through it and I almost never put any kind of product in it because I love the way it moves on its own.

My hair has been long enough to sit on and as short as a boy's and every length in between. I've had bangs and no bangs. It's been all one length and layered almost mercilessly. I have had a perm or two - but not for almost 20 years. It has been every shade of red: an almost black-purple, fiery orange, dark magenta, auburn. It has been highlighted and low-lighted and been the test-dummy for countless color technique classes.

When I got married the first time and we had less than no money I actually cried the first time I had to buy shampoo at the grocery store. I felt guilty for treating it so badly.

The main drawbacks of my hair are that it refuses to hold a curl and if I don't wash it every day it is greasy and horrible. Really? All things considered? Those are not things that are difficult to manage. I love the smell of shampoo and the soft weight of hair on my face when I sleep.

It is the one thing about myself that I have never been unhappy with.

Every boy I've ever loved has loved my hair... one boy loved it so much that when he left me I cut it all off. When he saw me next he got this look of grief on his face and unconsciously reached out a hand toward the ends of what was left before I took a step backwards and he remembered he wasn't supposed to touch me. It felt good that something I did affected him because for most of our relationship nothing seemed to. It made me wish I'd shaved it off just to intensify that.

But that would have been crazy. It would have been crazy to shave my head for any boy...
But...
Someone I love is sick.
Someone I love more than the comfort of the glossy swing of my hair.
Someone I love has had tests and surgeries and more tests and waiting.
Someone I love will be fine, but the road to fine is long and bumpy and scary.

I would take on all of it for her if I could. I would fix it. Fix. It.
But I can't. I can't make it better or change it. But I can sacrifice the one thing about myself I love the most so that someone I love doesn't have to be bald by herself.
She is so brave and amazing and I am so scared and small.

It is not about me. It is not even about the hair really. I know that this sacrifice is infinitesimally small compared to her experience of her illness and recovery.
This is merely a gesture, dramatic as it may be.
My hair will grow back - and in my experience it will grow back quickly. This time next year will probably look very much as it does right this second. And while she will absolutely recover, emotionally this will take more time for her. And I don't even know how to help her with that. I don't remember how the healing of my own emotional trauma began two years ago, but I do know that I am still not healed. Better. But not healed.

I practiced today with scarves. I've looked online for instructions about tying them.

I hope when the time comes to make this sacrifice I will handle it as gracefully and beautifully as she has handled the last few months. I hope this gesture - dramatic but small - will offer some kind of comfort to her.