Other than calling to confirm the last of my sponsors list for PACE's upcoming NLGLFF, making a few decisions regarding work (mainly the date that I want to start my new position with Tiger Axles), balancing my checkbook, and working on LASCYPAA bid information, I really don't have anything planned.
Definitely not work. I took care of that last week when I finally grew a pair and suddenly developed a backbone that wouldn't allow for me to take it supine anymore. One of the things that stands out most in my brain these days, especially related to the topic of recovery and my own spiritual path, is the fact that working thorough sixth and seventh steps creates in one's self a sense of humility - it doesn't mean that you have to be a doormat. To explain, and to address the work denouement once and for all: for nearly two full years, I put up with the impossible, irrational, and totally sick relationship that existed between one of my bosses and his textbook clinical wife. There were barrages of insults, attacks against my integrity and work ethic, and one particular situation in which I was forced to listen to this woman totally assault my character and attempt to take away my dignity. All this while her husband is telling me before, during, and after that I'm to listen to her and nod my head and understand that both he and I both know that nothing she says is accurate, that he knows it's all in her head, that I'm to understand that she is irrational - but I have to listen and I have to allow her to say and do these things to keep her off his back. Real integrity there, eh?
So, Thursday, I finally reached a boiling point. Notice had been given nearly three weeks before, and I'd planned to stay through the end of the month (a length of time generally unheard-of in the professional world) to help train a replacement (as if such a person could possibly exist - I poured my heart, soul, and spirit into that practice for more time than I ought) and to help get the last of my big projects off the ground and flowing heartily. At some point on Thursday morning, I'd gone to the bathroom, and I remember looking down while I was peeing and having the sudden, certain knowledge that it would definitely be my last day at the practice. I had no way of knowing that she would show up or that there would be any sort of reaction or that I really even wanted to leave. I just knew that I'd be leaving by the end of the day (it turned out to be before lunch), and I'd never be going back. When she arrived and began her usual and customary behavior, I was soon to make my exit.
Enough of that. I've been meaning to write more about it, but what does it change? Nothing. What does it fix? There's nothing on my end of the street that's broken. Before I left, Ryan made me promise to figure out a specific number of days to take off from work all together - a set time (not one nor two) that would fit for a practical vacation, one of which I've not had in two years between the time that I leave the practice and the day that I start with Matty at his place. At dinner that night, Mark R. told me without hesitation that two weeks is the perfect amount of time. To me, that sounded like an unlikely amount of time, but I'm wondering if two weeks wouldn't be absolutely perfect. That two weeks gets me through the end of May and ready to start at the beginning of June, rested and refreshed and ready to take on the new world at hand.
My main objective this weekend was to buy a bookcase. As if hearing directly from my wants and needs, my friend Kathleen posted on her Facebook page that she had a bookcase that she was itching for someone to take off her hands. I was only too happy to oblige. Along with finishing the second season of The Killing on Friday (I never saw that ending coming), beginning to call my list of NLGLFF sponsors, the LASCYPAA bid committee meeting, shopping for groceries, reading, visiting with friends and family, and making multiple meetings this weekend, I also managed to pick up the bookcase, get it totally set up, clean up my room, and set up my easel and canvas to get to work on some of the creative endeavors that I've not really done much to nurture these past several months.
I don't remember the last time that I was unemployed, really unemployed. Not stuck in a semester at school nor working miscellaneous jobs to make ends meet. Not behind on bills or worried sick about making rent. Not drinking my problems away or swallowing handfuls of bunnies to obliterate reality. Not depressed. Not lonely. Not feeling and acting worthless as a whole.
This is the first time in my life that I can ever remember feeling truly fulfilled and pleased with my life and my set of circumstances. With time on my hands to make a few healthier habits: to eat right, to exercise, to get plenty of sleep, and to begin trying my hands at meditation (in addition to re-committing to do another 90 in 90 - not for any reason, just because), I feel kinda giddy with excitement. I can actually go meet people for lunch. I can stay up way past my bedtime. I can watch the stacks of movies I have surrounding my television. I can read tons of literature (and a little trash). I can go with the group to play their weird Mafia game. I can do what I want, when I want, and under my own set of time constraints.
I feel like a kid walking into his first summer vacation and relishing every single moment.
My only regret is that Nick at Nite doesn't show the old episodes of Rhoda and Mary Tyler Moore like I remember from way back in my high school days.
...meanwhile, at the Overlook, Danny's been attacked by the woman in room 217 and Jack's imagining a bar covered with martinis, the CB radio has been destroyed, and things aren't looking exactly right with the Torrences. I'm eager to climb into bed and get a little reading done for the night.
I need to get my copy of the next book club selection, Lamb by Christopher Moore so that I can have it completed in time for our next meeting on the second of June (the day before my return to work, maybe). I have plenty to read in the interim.
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