The beginning of the day versus the end – a study in scarlet.
Ah, well. You become very conciliatory when you survive a day in the adult, modern world. When everything feels like a fight, when you’ve worked yourself silly, so much looking backward can seem
I had a lot of work to do, even after turning up at 7:30 this morning as bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as I dared for my level of now verging on universal apathy, so I brought bags and bags of it along with my computer over to my parents. I did a load of laundry, ate a bowl of my mother’s chili and a slice of homemade pie – can you imagine? – and then slowly squared myself to the task of sorting if not all, then at least some of the paperwork.
My father was up before his graveyard shift and as we watched the Nationals and the Giants struggle against one another, he told me about when he left his job after 26 years, a job right in the heart of the small town where I work. He said they had a pizza party for him, and he left and never went back. He had things going, but, he shrugged…I know they siphoned off more of his life force than he will ever admit to the last of us (and obviously, only continues a trend where he works for organizations that will take every last drop of what he would contribute to them and run about laughing – a trend that I have attempted to emulate until recently). It’s just sad, but that’s what I want. I want to not be their creature. I want to slip out of anyone’s reach as though I were covered in vegetable oil. Not forever, not slip out of my own reach, but just way from people who smile, take a breath, and then dive at me like I’m a human life preserver. Just one more thing, just one little thing.
Today I felt fucking run over and there was more talk about paying me to come back and train the person who will be taking over from me. I know it would be nice and polite and I’m struggling with letting people know what I feel. Right now, I feel like I don’t even want to meet them face to face. Like, it becomes their problem. All of it.
Maybe what it comes down is that I don’t believe this nightmare will ever be over and the person I was meant to be – a humanity within me I can recognize, a body not warped by stress, a rested, friendly, optimist – will reemerge. Maybe I’m petrified that won’t happen and then, I don’t know what will fix it.
As I worked late (before I took the work to my parents) a volunteer came in for a meeting that I hadn’t seen in a while. She was so excited to see me and hugged me with her arm around my throat pressing just hard and long enough that I had a millisecond of wonder if she was trying to choke me out. Once she finally relented, she asked me how I was feeling about it, and I went through my spiel about how it was with mixed emotions I was leaving and I felt pulled in both directions. She said “I know, I know…but just let it go.”
So I’m off to let it go and watch The Voice on Hulu. Hope your night is an nth as fabulous as mine.