Earlier in the day a friend of mine called and remarked that she was not too pleased with herself currently (just for today). After she explained why, I could and did, tell her that I understood exactly what she meant. I thought for a quick second to add "I went through it and it passes" or something to that effect when I realized that this process of change and adjustment doesn't really pass, it just changes.
I still have days when it's all just overwhelming and certainly days when I wake up and think "really Carol, really?". I've often joked about how certain people who know me probably think I lost my mind when I lost my job and decided to refuse any possibility of reentering Corporate America. Truth is there are days when I wonder if I've lost my mind, today was one of those days.
I hung up the phone and went about thinking about prioritizing my list of things to do. I've decided to write as a freelancer (resumes, content articles etc...) that being the case, I've been collecting and creating samples. My list of things to do included a multitude (ok only a few) of articles, two resume re-writes, and the completion of a website. I made this list of things to do. This list was not overly ambitious. Still, I sat there and it felt downright suffocating. I did what anyone trying desperately to be a grown up would do, I turned on Law and Order and cuddled with the dog. Don't worry, I set a limit for this bout of "Really Carol?? Realllllllly?", I didn't even use all of my allotted time. I did close my eyes, I did take great comfort in the warmth of Poncho curled up next to me, I also wondered why in the hell I was so determined to not turn back into the Carol I was before I was kicked off the island.
I think I started to realize that I was existing, not living, right about the time Leo came into my life. Leo is three, I am slow. I didn't make a decision to change until Leo was about six months old; I had lost my favorite aunt and my oldest brother, the farm house came available, and the horses entered my life. I spent the next two years talking myself down; work to support your life, do not live to support your work, was the general idea. As it turned out the more talking I did to myself, the closer I got to the peace that resided in the barn. With each tail I brushed, each bucket of beet pulp prepared, each stall that Leo and I cleaned (yes he helps), and every evening spent listening to the music of munching hay, I came closer to me. I'd shovel shit and wonder why I never realized how badly I needed peace in my life. I'd spend hours researching beet pulp; to soak or not to soak, warm or cold, etc... and wonder why in the hell I thought software was ever a good idea. I lost a little bit of faith in my choice of profession with each instance, beet pulp or otherwise, I just didn't know what to do about it. I really didn't do much about it; I cut my hours back and tried to talk myself out of the belief that only a slacker works eight hour days. Apparently my bosses agreed :-) Actually that's crap, I made too much money and I was no longer devoting my life to my work, on top of it I was constantly calling out my boss, whom I had interviewed and approved off prior to his being hired, for under utilizing my talent and consequently "Wasting company resources". Yes, I said that to him and on more than one occasion. Looking back I am certain I had a lot more to do with my island departure than I like to admit. I was right, he was under utilizing me, he didn't know what to do with me, he had blown the chance to do what we intended when he was hired with the idea that I move away from general support management and into a deeper technical role, I should not have stated that over and over. It was probably the equivalent of career suicide. I wonder if I had any idea what I was setting up for myself.
Since then it's been one change after the next, one reevaluation after then next, one examination of motive after the next. The only thing that holds true is the refusal; at times, seemingly fruitless, frequently frustrating, mostly unprofitable, and worrisome more times than not, it's still better than the alternative. Even when that means forgiving a mid-afternoon, completely unproductive hour on the couch, with the dog tucked in close because nothing else seems possible.
I still have days when it's all just overwhelming and certainly days when I wake up and think "really Carol, really?". I've often joked about how certain people who know me probably think I lost my mind when I lost my job and decided to refuse any possibility of reentering Corporate America. Truth is there are days when I wonder if I've lost my mind, today was one of those days.
I hung up the phone and went about thinking about prioritizing my list of things to do. I've decided to write as a freelancer (resumes, content articles etc...) that being the case, I've been collecting and creating samples. My list of things to do included a multitude (ok only a few) of articles, two resume re-writes, and the completion of a website. I made this list of things to do. This list was not overly ambitious. Still, I sat there and it felt downright suffocating. I did what anyone trying desperately to be a grown up would do, I turned on Law and Order and cuddled with the dog. Don't worry, I set a limit for this bout of "Really Carol?? Realllllllly?", I didn't even use all of my allotted time. I did close my eyes, I did take great comfort in the warmth of Poncho curled up next to me, I also wondered why in the hell I was so determined to not turn back into the Carol I was before I was kicked off the island.
I think I started to realize that I was existing, not living, right about the time Leo came into my life. Leo is three, I am slow. I didn't make a decision to change until Leo was about six months old; I had lost my favorite aunt and my oldest brother, the farm house came available, and the horses entered my life. I spent the next two years talking myself down; work to support your life, do not live to support your work, was the general idea. As it turned out the more talking I did to myself, the closer I got to the peace that resided in the barn. With each tail I brushed, each bucket of beet pulp prepared, each stall that Leo and I cleaned (yes he helps), and every evening spent listening to the music of munching hay, I came closer to me. I'd shovel shit and wonder why I never realized how badly I needed peace in my life. I'd spend hours researching beet pulp; to soak or not to soak, warm or cold, etc... and wonder why in the hell I thought software was ever a good idea. I lost a little bit of faith in my choice of profession with each instance, beet pulp or otherwise, I just didn't know what to do about it. I really didn't do much about it; I cut my hours back and tried to talk myself out of the belief that only a slacker works eight hour days. Apparently my bosses agreed :-) Actually that's crap, I made too much money and I was no longer devoting my life to my work, on top of it I was constantly calling out my boss, whom I had interviewed and approved off prior to his being hired, for under utilizing my talent and consequently "Wasting company resources". Yes, I said that to him and on more than one occasion. Looking back I am certain I had a lot more to do with my island departure than I like to admit. I was right, he was under utilizing me, he didn't know what to do with me, he had blown the chance to do what we intended when he was hired with the idea that I move away from general support management and into a deeper technical role, I should not have stated that over and over. It was probably the equivalent of career suicide. I wonder if I had any idea what I was setting up for myself.
Since then it's been one change after the next, one reevaluation after then next, one examination of motive after the next. The only thing that holds true is the refusal; at times, seemingly fruitless, frequently frustrating, mostly unprofitable, and worrisome more times than not, it's still better than the alternative. Even when that means forgiving a mid-afternoon, completely unproductive hour on the couch, with the dog tucked in close because nothing else seems possible.
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