Empty all these years

Harvest moon

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

My weekend took place from exactly 12:34 p.m. yesterday till 7:02 a.m. today. I was also awake the previous night with panic attacks (that were unrelated to 9/11). And even though I just had coffee, I have officially hit a wall. *thunk*

Today was a good day. (So, of course, was yesterday. Thanks to those who made it possible!) We need a bunch more of these and a whole lot fewer of the prior seven days around these parts.

I’m having a weird time adjusting to working with people who are fine with blogs and social media, and who follow me there. That means I can’t fire off a cryptic status update that coincides with the time stamp of a received e-mail. Damn! 😉

Of course, I’m also re-learning my place in the (albeit home-based) workplace. I hate meetings more than anything else on earth. But give me a never-ending e-mail chain that’s cc’d to four of your six e-mail addresses, and toss in multiple status calls to boot, and I’d take a regular face-to-face meeting any old day of the week. (Just not EVERY day of the week!)

I found an old note to myself from the job I loved the most. And it reminded me that there is no such thing as a job that doesn’t invoke fantastical images of crime scenes and me grinning wildly while wielding a bloodied butcher knife.

I can still remember what made me write this simple note:


“Coming off the I-270 ramp today, I lost my shit. I emitted several wracking sobs. Oh, God.

“Well, at least, it took eight months. At my last job, it was about two months in that I got violently ill every single morning. And there, it never really abated.

“I’ll be OK. This too shall resolve itself. I refuse to concede defeat. Damn it.”

That was the last entry in that particular journal, which still has a good 200 pages that have remained empty all these years.

Things did get better, thanks for asking. It really was just a bad run. Not like other places where the milk turned sour and everyone continued force-feeding you the curdled crap till your soul died and you had to grab the paddles to muster up just enough life in you to leave.

I feel like I needed to see that note right now. I think it reminded me that you see relatively the same cast of characters everywhere. And that I needed to return to my roots for a minute to remember who I was, and what my goals were. Which is simply to smile, keep going, rack up as much experience as I can and always try to be A better person, if not THE better person, whenever possible.

I’m still looking to God about what to do next. But that’s what’s different this time around. I’m not digging in my heels and making it work if it kills me. If it does, then great. If not, the world doesn’t end. It never did, and it won’t if I don’t let it.

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