sueeeus

Today was a significant day.  A get dressed and take pictures on that first day of school kind of day.  Like that.  I could have stayed in my jammies, but I felt that the day warranted clothes.  After all, it was my last day at the OK Corral.

Last day at the OK Corral

It was an emotional day for me. I wrote some au revoir notes to my people and had flurried IM conversations with some of my teammates. Almost 34 years slogging away for what I hoped was the greater good.  I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course.

Things being as they are in this present worldwide crisis, there is no opportunity to gather together and celebrate.  There is no collecting my things from my office.  There are no face to face goodbyes.

It’s the ultimate Irish Exit and this time the universe orchestrated it for me.

Although it’s a happy life transition, I’m sad and feeling somewhat alone in this.  Maybe because it’s one more loss to add to the heap of losses that I’m still working my way through.

The sadness is overwhelming.

My youngest brother died on Monday.  In some ways, it feels like forever ago.  And it feels sort of surreal, to see the word ‘dead’ and try to wrap my head around that word’s application to my brother.  How can that be?  It can’t possibly be.  But it is.

My work partner of 33 years retires this coming Monday, two days from now.  He’s had enough, and it seems that the tipping point has been reached.  It’s not worth it to continue pouring your heart and soul into something that is grossly misunderstood and undervalued, that seems to be constantly trampled underfoot.  He’s taken a beating, championing our cause, and I’m grateful that he persisted as long as he has.  The stress has made an impact on his health, and it simply can’t continue.

Three years ago today, my beautiful, vibrant niece died at the age of 29.  Today, and most days, our hearts ache for our people we’ve lost.

It’s a lot of loss to process.

Standing on the curb outside the office the other day, I said something about the timing being terrible, work-wise, but I need to take some time off soon, because I’m barely holding myself together.  I didn’t actually say the last part out loud, but my project manager asked me if I needed a hug.  I shook my head and was saying no as I stepped toward him and let myself be wrapped in his arms, and then we both kind of laughed and said, yes, I need a hug.  It was awkward in the sense that it’s sort of an unspoken thing that people at work don’t actually touch, and it was touching because it was a genuine human compassionate expression, and he hugged me with no perceivable awkwardness, and said quietly and softly, family is more important.  It was pure, kind, warm energy that he infused, and I soaked it up as deeply and quickly as I could, pulling myself away long before I was ready.  I don’t like to fall apart in front of people.

~*~*~*~

It feels as though the writing is on the wall, once more, and once more, the ship is sinking.  It was traumatic that time.  This time it’s traumatic with an extra twist of flashback fairy dust.  This time it feels like a tight clenching grip from the base of my throat to the top of my stomach, centered about my heart.  Sort of like the way the bladder pump fits in the palm of the hand as it’s squeezed to inflate the blood pressure sleeve.  This has been a persistent and increasing ache.  I’ve been stumbling across old blog posts in which I ramble on about work and exhaustion and stress and once I just get through this, then I’ll be able to catch my breath and everything will be fine.  I double check the date and recount and recall the stresses that I survived during that span of time, and say, ha, you thought you were at your limit then, and you’ve met and beyond exceeded it since then!  The human heart can be so resilient.  That, or I’m just killing myself slowly.  It’s PTSD, but instead of post-traumatic stress, it’s more like persistent traumatic stress, or maybe even perpetual traumatic stress.  It doesn’t seem to end.

My team in some ways is like an ugly bastard orphan that nobody wants — we don’t fit the traditional business model in these parts, and our first and second level management chain who understood our mission retired, and the remaining management chain had to absorb us, and don’t really know what to do with us.  We self-managed for quite some time, and that worked great.  Now it’s all about the funding, and not so much the purpose.  The thing that we do is a foundational element in the greater scheme of things, and rather than being stewarded carefully and respectfully, as one would expect things of great value to be stewarded, we are tossed about like a hot potato, dropped and smashed and left to scrape up our pieces and somehow put ourselves back together and keep on performing without missing a step, as if we were in tip top shape.

I’m feeling exceedingly depleted and am thinking about accelerating my retirement date, because I just don’t know how much longer I can go on like this.  It’s almost too much for me, this time.

Today my work partner of 33 years announced that he is retiring in three weeks.  I wonder what’s in store for the survivors.  I’m not that far behind him, because I’m targeting next July for myself, and I’m incredibly thankful that he chose to continue working with us as long as he has, but I’m trying not to panic over what’s in store for our project in the interim.  Or, more honestly, what’s in store for me.  We’re partners in a very narrow field, so I hope that doesn’t mean that I inherit his responsibilities.  I’m already drowning in my own, and I have a full plate just preparing for my own transition, because I don’t want to leave anything or anyone hanging.

I wonder what will happen with our project.  I’ve sort of thought of it as his magnum opus, but it hasn’t been realized to the vision intended, so I hope he can wrap up his career without a feeling of sadness for things not coming together as desired.  We certainly made heroic efforts and accomplishments, even so.

Maybe our Padawan will step up and surprise us.  He could do great.  Or maybe our project will morph into something completely different.

Whatever is in store, it’s nearly time to pass the baton.  It’s a difficult time.  It’s been an amazing ride, one way or another.  Somehow we managed to keep afloat five years beyond what seemed the last hurrah, the end of the last era.

I’ve been trying to figure out when and where I got the notions for how a life should be lived.

For almost as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to be a wife and mother. Certainly a mother, forever. I can always remember wanting to have children of my own. I don’t remember if the wife-and prefix always accompanied the -mother part.  Probably, because they went together.  People weren’t supposed to be mothers and not also wives.  That was a given, back then.  At some point, that particular notion solidified more, and my Plan A was to become a devoted housewife and stellar mom, and Plan B was to become a teacher, in case I needed another occupation, if a devoted husband didn’t come along.

In those bright eyed days, I knew that I could and would do a much better job at partnering and parenting than my parents did.  I was nice, after all.  I would be nice to my husband.  Therefore he would be nice to me.  We would be nice to each other.  We would like each other.  Anybody can get along if they’re kind. There would be children.  Of course there would be children!  Children are the most amazing things in the world!  They are fresh new people.  They like colors and sounds and shapes and feels.  They love to discover things, and there are new things to discover every day.  We would play.  We would laugh.  We would make things.  We would discover things.  We would learn things.  We would all like each other.  We would all be nice to each other.  We would all be comfortable with each other.  We would live happily together.  Happily ever after.

This is the part where the soundtrack cuts in and there’s a screech like the sound that a record needle makes as it’s dragged across an album abruptly.

I sure made a lot of grandiose assumptions back then.  I look at my boys and wonder what traumas I’m planting in them, in this revolution of the circle of life that we’re tumbling through right now.  That whole husband notion thing didn’t pan out very well.  Apparently there’s more needed than simple human kindness to keep a relationship afloat.  So far, I haven’t given them a childhood in which they get the benefit of a healthy father figure.  They get precious little interaction with their dad, and my heart breaks to think about what their hearts hope for, with him.  Because those are two more broken hearts to chalk up to the masses of children who grow up with parents who don’t know or care how to make their children feel loved.  As for the parade of men who have come and gone through their young lives, I only hope that they remember the fun times and that they never catch on that there was ever a competition in place, between them and those men, for my attention and affection.  As if there’s not enough for everyone.  Please.

I wonder how many men actually ever grow up.

The question that I think I’m trying to answer for myself is whether I truly want to be with someone, or if it’s a false notion.  I know that I need solitude, down time, quiet time, time to be in my head time, lost in my mind time, time to wash emotions through me time.  I think that maybe I don’t know how to be me around someone else, or maybe I don’t feel free to be me around someone else.  Or maybe I just  haven’t been with someone who really wanted to know me, what makes me tick and how I work.  I know that I  have been more lonely with someone than I’ve been when I’m alone.  Why this persistent yearning, this deep ache?  What is missing and why is it needed?

I think about the kinds of relationships that my kids will form when they’re older.  How will they treat others?  How will they be treated?  I haven’t been able to show them an example of a healthy adult couple.  I haven’t been able to give them the family life that I envisioned as a youth.

Instead of Plan A or Plan B, I’ve ended up following Plan C, in which I’ve spent a lifetime in a technical profession, devoted to my fellow working brothers and sisters, leery of the leadership.  Sort of parallels my childhood, now that I look at it this way.  I’ve given my work so much of me.  Sometimes I think I’ve given too much of me.

I think that I want to lead a simple life filled with simple pleasures like walks down country roads, smooth coffee, freshly baked bread, star gazing, cloud gazing, tree gazing.  Seems like nice things to do with the people you love.

July 26, 2019.  Miracles and magic.  What a mind boggling tangle of events and circumstances and decisions that took place over a span of who knows how many years, in order for yesterday to happen.  We had a fare thee well lunch get together for a coworker who is taking his family on a world-wide home-schooling cultural immersion experience for the year, which itself is a marvelous thing to do!  My heart stirs with delight (or maybe jealousy) at the thought of the richness of such an experience, and all the new perspectives they will take in, that they might never know otherwise.  How rich!!

It’s always nice to have a social moment with my coworkers, and it was a beautiful sunny day.  We have such a crushing workload that it’s a special treat to take a break at all, let alone gather to dine in a quaint courtyard beer garden.  The luncheon organizer so thoughtfully invited former coworkers to join us, for which I am so grateful.  It felt like a grand reunion, seeing those shining smiling faces of people who are part of my work family.  My former boss!

As we gather, in walks another familiar face, coincidentally out for lunch.  Another former coworker, this one a retired senior manager.  And then, not far behind him, another retired senior manager.  Such commotion of greetings and what brings you heres and how have you beens.  Embraces!  I hugged them all, all three of my former managers.  They were all sun tanned and vibrant, clearly happy in their respective retirements.  These were my people, my family, from my former organization where we worked so closely for over 20 years.  It was wonderfully energizing to see them.  Coincidences – the two are friends and get together socially — they’re both so fit, I envision them playing raquetball or squash or tennis, then having lunch at a beer garden.  Also, my new boss was there, and it was the first time he met the old boss.  I whispered to my coworker nearby, meet the new boss, not the same as the old boss…     …..my old boss is a saint.  I miss him.

And another coworker coincidentally knew one of the senior managers through a soccer connection, years ago, when their children were young.  It was quite something, the mix of old and new, and it was sort of neat to see in my periphery the India team smiling and observing our greetings.  It gave them a glimpse at our history.  It felt good to share a different and personal perspective with them.

Our Padawan made an appearance. He strode in, a cloud of static whirling about him, and mingled brusquely.  We’ve lost him to the dark side, our young Vader.  It’s a sad thing to have watched unfold, through the years.  The junctures could have just as readily been convergent, as divergent.  I attribute it to the blindness that ego produces.  Maybe I could have affected the outcome, if I’d have been more involved in his development.  I might have seen the junctures approaching and guided him gently in the direction of convergence.  I’m stretched in too many directions to be able to attend to everything. We’re all adult professionals and as such are expected to be professionally cooperative.  He’s alienated himself from many of us, by now. It’s a shame. He has so much energy and ability; he could be so productive, he could contribute much.  He just can’t see the forest for the trees.  It’s sad.

Traffic was wretched, perhaps even more than usual, but I was energized from being with my people.

I tried to connect with J on the way home, since I was going past her place, but she was on the road too.  We are both pressed for time, orchestrating our every movement so that we can somehow manage to do all that we have to do for our families, our homes, and our livelihoods.  Life is a scramble for us and I treasure our friendship.  We’re sort of in the same boat, in many ways.  Single and self reliant full time working moms.  There was a construction detour and I ended up taking an alternate route that reminded me to stop by Goodwill and look for a kitten harness necessary to  help keep my man child’s 6 week old kitten safe and alive during our upcoming camping trip, and lo and behold, guess what I found?  Yep, new in package XXS, perfect made to order harness.  Exactly what I needed, plus a short scratching post and fishnet, also exactly what I needed.  All for 10 bucks shy.

The heavens poured blessings upon blessings on me.  What a day!  I felt so good, so energized.

The world looked different to me.  I noticed it while standing in my kitchen, then wandered out to the deck and looked around, and returned indoors to gaze about some more.  If I could find an analogy to describe how it looked different, the best I can do for now is a transparency slider.  It was as though the slider was moved to fully visible, whereas it was formerly some percentage obscured, like through a film.  Through a glass darkly.  Everything seemed more solid, more clear, more real.  In contrast to my ‘normal’ view where it’s like everything is behind a screen filled with a murky water-like substance, filtered.

I thought that this must be what it feels like to feel human, and to feel normal.  I thought that might be what most people feel like, how they see the world.  Solid, physical, real, safe. The act of just being felt effortless and sustainable. It was a good feeling.

It didn’t last long, alas, but I am glad to have experienced that glimpse, to have tasted that clarity.

My commute takes the better part of two hours, each way.  I use the time to think.  I’m in my thirty second year of indentured servitude, and once again the corporate machine is groaning.  I’ve always been flummoxed by a company’s ability to stay in business and make profits under a consistent flow of poor decisions.

Comparison.  Competition.  There are times when I slip into that region of discontent.  I say discontent, because it seems that the state of contentedness is contrary to the concepts of competition and comparison.  Those concepts imply winning versus losing, better versus worse.  Contentedness suggests enough.  I like the idea of enough.

It started with an innocuous comment about success.  So and so is more successful than you (me) because so and so is perched at the top of the corporate ladder and is compensated accordingly.  The comps are flying already and I’ve barely begun this post.  I feel compelled to look into the root word structures –surely there are connections.  Comparison.  Competition.  Compensation.  Compel.  I digress, in true sueeeus fashion…

I was thinking about my initial reaction to the comment.  I felt defensive.  So and so isn’t better than me!  I could have reached the echelons of corporate leadership, had I chosen.  I felt hurt, as though it were some sort of reflection of failure on my part, as though I needed to convince someone, anyone, everyone, that I am just as good.  I felt jealous.  So and so makes more (money) than I do and has a fancy pants title.  Of more concern to me is why it even mattered.  My reaction was so immediate, and I felt as though I needed to justify myself and somehow assert that I am not a failure.  I also wonder why my reaction is so binary, so extreme.  Success.  Failure.  No in-between.

The nature of my work is all about the ones and the zeros, so there is that.  But the nature of my self is all about the in-betweens, or rather, perspectives.  Just because true/false, on/off, all/none, right/wrong are points that describe entities in a known dimension, it doesn’t necessarily mean that those are the only states.  They are obvious states, but not necessarily the only states.  Perception through one facet of a crystal may be very different from perception through another facet of the same crystal.  Is either right? Is either wrong?  They are simply different.  Why does there have to be a right or a wrong?

I think it’s a limitation of the human mind.  People are generally comfortable with the knowns.  Binary things are easy to wrap one’s mind around, because they are very simple to grasp.  Multidimensional things are complex.  Matrices within matrices from infinity to infinity in all directions.

I’m embarrassed to admit that I fell into a funk for a few days, as I worked through these thoughts.  I thought about the comparison game.  I mostly have the experience of my own life and culture to draw from, and it occurs to me that life as I know it has contained a steady feed of information that has contributed to the shape of my thoughts and emotions.  I don’t remember when it dawned on me that I could choose how to steer my thoughts and emotions.

There is so much conditioning taking place with the onslaught of information that we absorb through media.  When, if ever, does it occur to us to question the validity of the information that we absorb?  We get notions of body image based on the examples we see in print and on screen.  Does it occur to us to take a look around at a general cross-section of society and realize that almost nobody looks like the actors and models we see portraying life?  We get notions of romance which stem from fantasy and set expectations for reality, then feel let down that true love seems unattainable, when in fact we are living in a perfectly beautiful loving situation.  We are fed carefully crafted information designed to promote [something, someone].  It’s called marketing, and it’s a product of capitalism. It’s reason for being is to pad someone’s pockets or promote someone’s power or influence.

It’s so exhausting to justify myself to myself!  Once I recovered from my initial reactionary response to the self-inflicted judgment of failure (since I’m not the CEO), I reminded myself that I had faced precisely such a decision in my early twenties — I recognized ‘career path’ and saw clearly that although I was and am quite capable of ‘success’, that the capitalistic model of corporate America was contrary to my soul, and although the financial rewards and professional accolades are or were tempting, the internal price of or for success was simply not worth it.  I made a choice.

In retrospect, I don’t know where or how I ever attained such wisdom (I am working on some theories), but I am grateful.  Before I’d ever read Buckminster Fuller’s Critical Path, and by the grace of God, I made the better choice, the more valuable choice.  My success isn’t measured in terms of social status, professional status, financial status.  My success is measured in terms of soul status, and it’s only measured by me.

Throughout these thought streams, some key words or concepts kept surfacing.  Source.  Core.  For whatever reason, I am driven by the need to understand.  Anything. Everything.  It consistently emerges as something core to my very being.  I don’t know why (but I’m working on some theories).

Here’s an aside.  I have this thing about connections and structures and origins.  Keys.  Some of the keys that I’ve noted in order to collect and frame my thoughts are the words ‘core’ and ‘source’.  These words resonate with my soul.  In the overlap of my personal life with my professional life, the relevant catchphrase du jour emerges, “Never outsource your core competency.”  Look at that — source, core, comp.  All neatly bundled in a span of five words.  This correlation is busy whirring about in a background process of my mind, and I’m certain that something interesting will come of it, when the forefront of my mind is ready.

I’m no expert.  On anything.  That is the nature of knowledge.  The more you know, the more you realize how little you know of what there is to know.  That is where my affinity for source and core stem from (oh, if ever I could learn how to express myself without dangling participles, split infinitives and any and all manner of grammatical faux pas).

The affinity for source and core spans both my personal and professional lives.  One can think in terms of platform or foundation.  If the foundation isn’t sound, what then?  Every conclusion drawn from such a basis is suspect.  Bad data.  This is where assumptions are dangerous.  Something can become common knowledge through careful marketing or accidental means, yet have no sound basis.  An example is the theory of evolution.  It’s proposed as a theory, yet is generally accepted as a fact.  It might be a fact.  I don’t know.  I haven’t been exposed to the proof.

The core value of what I do professionally relies upon valid source [data].  Finally I remember what I was thinking when I entitled this post, “who’s afraid of the big bad [data] wolf?”.  It’s all about bad data.  Foundation.  Source.

The society in which I live seems to be built on a basis of bad data.  Conclusions or definitions of things like success, beauty, worth, and value are vapor without real substance.

I stand in stubborn defiance and cling to the quest for source, with my own assumption that whatever conclusion(s) may be drawn will be closer to valid, and therefore have some real meaning.

Understanding, for whatever reason, is a hunger of my soul, and I am seeking the peace that passes understanding.  It is attainable, by some measure.  I’m sure of it.

from the first day that thou didst set thine heart to understand and to chasten thyself before thy God, thy words were heard; and I have come for thy words

Many years ago I set my heart to understand.  It’s part of my driving force.  I don’t know why –it’s intrinsic to me.  I haven’t gotten very far.  Or rather, the farther I get, the more I realize how little I know.  I’m very slowly putting the pieces together.

SUCK IT, FIFTY!

I’ve been struggling with anxiety over the milestone looming on my horizon.  It’s taken many forms, and has been mostly low grade, but mounting.  I thought for a moment that with such a milestone I should do something memorable or have something memorable to show for it.  I don’t know.  The last time I bought myself something ridiculously expensive as a milestone memento, it was stolen.   Not that that will completely take the wind out of the sails for any future extravagances, but it does leave some tarnish on the idea.  Anyway.  I have been feeling like I should go somewhere special, or buy something special, or do something special.  But I’m at such a loss.  I haven’t had any time to make any plans, as far as the notion of a getaway goes.  Where would I go, and what would I do?  Logistics.  God knows I need a break (ummm, I did just take a week and cruise to Mexico with my kids and all told, fifteen family members, and it was so wonderful to spend time with family, and it was so wonderful to feel and breathe warm ocean air and hear the sound of waves lapping against the boat, hour upon hour upon hour, and  yes, that was amazing, but of course I will throw in a but…   ….but in order to take any time off I have to complete all the work that I would have to do for the week that I’m away, which means, really, no break from work at all…  whine, whine, whine) and a rest and I don’t know what.  I need something.  I’ve been struggling with the changing tides of my work for some time now.  There’s little to no respite on the immediate horizon, as far as that goes.  Some of the bigger projects will work themselves out in the next few months.  Or rather, I have to finish them, and they will be a thing of the past, after which I might be able to steer myself toward a more manageable workload.  The immediate forecast is bleak, and there is so much pressure, beyond that which I place upon myself.  I am famous for demanding great expectations of myself, so this present workload predicament is taking its toll.  Blah, blah, blah.  I am so weary of complaints.  My own.  My kids’.  Anybody’s.  I have almost no threshold remaining.  I’ve been uncharacteristically irritable, off and on.  Weary.  I know that if I could somehow get enough rest, I’d be FINE.

Almost 29 years of indentured servitude, little to no sunlight, and countless hours of commuting are taking their toll...

Anyway.  I’m not one for pomp and circumstance.  I don’t want a party, and GOD FORBID, a surprise party.  I don’t want to be the center of attention.  I don’t want lavish gifts.  I don’t know what I want for that day.  The kids have visitation with their dad that weekend, and they are oblivious to life events, milestones, and things of that nature.  I suppose that’s my fault, since I haven’t actually taught them to be aware of such things.  I wouldn’t mind doing something special with my sisters, but we are out of time for planning any sort of get together.  Logistics again.  The sweetest thing I can imagine is having a nice meal with my loved ones.  And so it is settled.  My friend will prepare a lovely meal, and we will hang out as a sweet circle of three –my friend, my honey,and I–for the evening, in the comfort of my home.  Simple.  Sweet.  Perfect.  That is all I want.  Bliss.

I hope the 50s are the new 40s, because the 40s were mostly all right...

And as for turning fifty?  I am having a hard time wrapping my head around that number.  It seems like it’s a number that represents something that I just can’t quite put my finger on.   Age?  As if I was supposed to have accomplished something remarkable by now?  Or I should be at some other, more arrived, state of self by now?  Shouldn’t I have life figured out by now?  Shouldn’t I know how to handle stress?  Shouldn’t I know how to manage my children?  Shouldn’t I be cool, calm, and collected?  Well, externally I am all of those.  Internally?  I’m cool, I suppose.  Or maybe tepid.  I’m calm.  I’m collected in a scattered way.  I’m just weary.  Worn.  I went through my list of Facebook friends and pared it down to mostly family.  I could have just shut it completely down, but I do like seeing pictures of my family.  I am actually pleasantly surprised at the feeling of liberation that this small task accomplished.  Inability to keep up with the news feed has been frustrating, and I don’t need any additional source of frustration in my life.

I don't think I wanna be FIFTY. I'm not ready for this!

What would I have imagined for myself by this stage of life?  Happily married?  Kids healthy, grown, and making their own way in life?  Comfortably situated in some career?  Maybe those are all just projections from my early adulthood.  Time has marched on and things are as they are.  My life is not all those things, but my life is beautiful!

Looks like trouble! I still have some oomph left in me...

I don’t feel as though I’m emotionally ready to be fifty.  I feel as though I am only just now getting my momentum, only just now settling in to simply living.  I feel as though I’m only just now getting started in life.  I suppose that realization brings with it a little bit of panic.  Fifty years have gone by and I surely don’t have fifty years left.  I want to be able to live joyfully, to let all unpleasant things slide from me, never taking hold.  I don’t want to allow negative thoughts to crowd my mind.  I want to be comfortable in my skin and in my mind.  I am a rock, standing firm on the ocean shore, while waves crash around me.  They can’t hurt me.  I stand solidly, and let them fall at my feet.  I feel them and I let them go.  I breathe in.  I breathe out.  I keep on loving.  And so I live.

Wrinkles are emerging, but at least they are the smiley happy eye wrinkles...

I have this set of selfies in a photo album called “Fifty Shades of… …Sue” that I’m planning to post on my FB wall next Saturday. My suck it fifty declaration. My sense of humor isn’t always evident, but these are the thoughts that have been milling about in my mind in the past weeks and days while I’ve taken those pictures. All this anxiety. So to offset that, a collection of serendipitously lovely images. Hey, there’s another pretty one. Let’s post that. Really, then, it’s an unveiled invitation for others to say, my goodness, you don’t look anywhere near FIFTY! I have no shame.

Today is a be still kind of day for me.  What a treasure!  Some people want or need to be entertained, or constantly on the go, doing something, going somewhere, being with someone.  I get so few moments to just be still.  I sit in silence in my living room, looking at the ceiling, looking at the sky through the skylights, looking at the colors and placement of the furnishings and decor, breathing deeply and simply being peaceful.  It’s a friendly room.  It’s nice to just be still for a moment.  I have a thousand things I could or should do, but I’m not going to.  I’m just going to sit still for a little while.

I love my cedar ceiling. Love!

~*~*~*~

I find it tragically amusing that I posted in October about not falling apart, when I realized yesterday that I’ve fallen more apart than I had any idea!  I’m glad that I can amuse myself, even if it’s in a tragic manner.  Imagine the amusement I can attain when I’m rockin’ my world!  My core, the essence of me, always wants to find the light and bright side of things.  It may take me a while, but I’m always looking for it.

~*~*~*~

I’ve been thinking about perspective.  It’s so easy (for me) to be caught off guard and lose perspective.   I can get stuck wondering what I did or said that caused a given action or comment, and jump to some conclusion that may or may not be valid.  Or else I can’t come up with an answer at all, and I am completely flummoxed.  In my professional life, when I get stuck trying to solve something, usually if I drop it for a while, rest, and come back again with fresh eyes, I can figure it out.  I will then chastise myself for not dropping it earlier, thus saving myself the time, anguish and frustration of beating my head against the wall.  In my personal life, if I could at least remember to tell myself that problem solving is problem solving, and if I could remember that it always works well to just let it rest for a minute, allow myself to regroup, then clarity will more than likely follow shortly.  If only.  I sure would save myself unnecessary anguish.

~*~*~*~

There has been a lot of passion and agitation floating about regarding Ferguson, and I don’t know anything about the issue, other than some people I love are passionately impacted in one direction and some people I love are passionately impacted in the opposite direction.  I have absolutely no opinion because I don’t know the situation, but my heart aches and strains over the anguish and passion that others are struggling with over this very public issue.  Politics.  I can not abide.  The mere thought causes literal gut wrenching sensations.  It’s visceral.  Absolutely and completely.

~*~*~*~

Loose ends.  I have such a strong desire for conclusions, answers, solutions, closure –understanding.  Maybe that’s the bottom line.  Understanding.  For some reason, loose ends leave me feeling frustrated and incomplete.  It’s probably an OCD thing.  Sort of like writing a sentence and not using a period to punctuate the end.  That would drive me NUTS!  The thing is, it drives me bonkers in almost all elements of my life.  If a conversation just drops off in thin air, with no apparent reason why, I’m left wondering why.  I suppose it boils down to order vs. chaos.  A loose end represents chaos in my world.  A conclusion represents order.  With understanding, closure, conclusion, summary, completion, whatever it is called, I can put whatever it is away, and it will no longer clutter my mind and emotions.

~*~*~*~

Sometimes the accumulation of loose ends and lost perspective cause me to doubt myself, and I get turned around, upside down.  When this happens, I have to somehow retreat and regroup.  It’s so hard to do, when you’re stuck!  Sort of like trying to swim against the current.  I visualize myself, a lone figure, and I visualize myself spinning, arms spread, spinning around and around, sending waves of light, love, comfort, and harmony out from my extended hands, weaving a tornado of protection around me.  I stand in the center of stillness and catch my breath and gather my strength until I can emerge.  As I describe this, it brings to mind a scene from Guardians of the Galaxy in which Groot weaves himself into a cocoon of protection around his friends.  Like that.

~*~*~*~

I really should never doubt myself.  I should be more vigilant and remember, always remember, that I am empathic and absorb the emotions of those around me.  So often I get slammed by other people’s emotions, and it takes me some time to realize those aren’t MY emotions.  Those feels I feel, yes, but those feels aren’t always mine!  Empathy is a beautiful gift, and I truly love my ability to connect with people on such a deep level, but I just need to learn how to distinguish my feels from someone else’s feels.   I suppose that’s the thing about empathy though.  Those feels become my feels.  Oh, the feels.  All the feels!!  I am so often battered by the feels, like ocean waves crashing against a rocky shore.

~*~*~*~

Finding joy.  Gratitude.  It’s the simple things in life that bring me the most joy.  I grew some vegetables this year.  I planted multicolored carrots, and yielded only two.  Two!  The beets did well.  I love beets.  I also grew a mystery vegetable.  At first I thought it was a pumpkin, but it turns out it was an acorn squash.  I don’t even remember ever having squash, because I don’t like squash, but somehow it ended up in the compost, and when I built my garden, I added some compost.  That particular seed sprouted and thrived, so I decided to let it live.  It actually completely overtook the entire garden box, and produced several squash.  The slugs ate most of them, but it yielded one respectable squash.

garden bounty

I decided to take my end of season garden yield and make roasted veggies for my contribution to the Thanksgiving feast.  I roasted garlic and used fresh thyme and rosemary from my herb garden, and made a buttery spread.  I had an inordinately grand time, gathering the veggies from my garden, cleaning, prepping, and cooking them.  It felt so complete!  So wholesome!  And believe it or not, the squash actually tasted good to me.  Wonders shall never cease.

roasted and color coordinated

~*~*~*~

I’ve been struggling quite a lot lately.  I mentioned tragic amusement above…   Anyway, I’ve been thinking of all the various monumental life changes taking place, contributing to the struggle.  Work.  That’s a huge change.  The transitional dust most likely won’t be settled until at least next summer, so there remains quite a long road ahead.  I need to gird up.  Along with that, my niece, sort of the daughter I never had, graduated high school and moved across the country this fall.  This had a much deeper effect on me than I had any idea, and I was completely unprepared for the emotions that would surface.  Closing chapters of a long relationship, opening and closing and trying to navigate the waters of forming a new relationship leave me worn and depleted.  Frustrations over the superficiality of people in the singles world.  I see deep seated fears and insecurities in men manifest in various ways.  They probably have no idea of these things themselves, because they are living only on the surface.  But that’s a whole other probably very long winded post for another time.  Countless hours spent in traffic.  Darkness when I rise, darkness when I return.  Single parenting struggles, wanting my children to grow into gracious, kind, responsible, confident, and respectable men, and not knowing quite how to accomplish that.  The responsibilities of life.  I have a full plate.  It can be daunting and overwhelming if I think about it much.  That’s why I like to slow down and be still.  I get the most joy out of the simple things.  I go outside and feed my alpaca girls, chastise them for fighting each other for the lion’s share, and wander around the pasture, picking up their poop.  It’s therapeutic, really, to trudge about outside, rake and bucket in hand.  The wind in the trees releases the most wonderful cedar scent.  I feel happy.  I am very blessed.  I live a beautiful life.  I am full of love.  I love.  I am loved.

happiness is a rake and a bucket and a pasture full of poop

It has been a long time since I’ve written about my work.  I maintain a level of ambiguity, so as not to jeopardize my professional life.  Last spring we underwent a massive restructuring, and the announcement came like a sucker punch to the gut.  Unexpected.

that day cometh like a thief in the night…

A year later, doubled over and trying to catch our breath from the first sucker punch, we took another jab.

moving and shaking…

So there we were, in the ring, so to speak, engaged in a fight that we didn’t ask for and didn’t want.  I wasn’t (yet) personally affected, but I could see the writing on the wall.

carrying the weight of a word on her shoulders…

From my perspective, if I take a step back, it looks like corporate leadership behaves like a bunch of kids playing pick up sticks, only we are the sticks.  Throw the lot up in the air, see where they land, and try to piece things back together.  Who gets the most sticks before the stack collapses?  Winner!!!!  What about the remaining stack?  Yep.  That’s us.  That’s where we are now.  Discarded on a whim.

I don’t remember when they made the announcement, but they did.  And lo it came to pass.  The ax did fall.  I don’t recall the exact date, but there is one (May or June 2015), and on that day, the lights will be shut off.  We shall cease to be.

So it’s been a mad scramble.  The ship is sinking and the rats are jumping.

I thought about looking for other work, but decided not to give in to fear and uncertainty, and not to desert my team.  My specialized team consists of only three people, one of whom is new.  Our young padawan, we call him.  We are training him in the ways of the masters.  Ha!  Seriously, though.  My partner IS the master.  He is literally a world expert in his field.  I am the other master, and I am most decidedly not a world expert in that field, but I bring to the table those proficiencies that make our team a complete, high power unit.  We are a little tiny team of three, serving the entire company of thousands upon thousands.  We could be considered a bottle neck, which in business is not a positive thing, or we could be considered a vital asset.  Both are true.  Single threadedness carries a lot of business risk.  If the thread breaks, the business can be severely impacted.  It brings to mind the saying, “Don’t put all your eggs in one basket.”  Not that the company truly recognizes its vital assets.  I’ve probably blathered on about that elsewhere in this blog.

Even with the leadership making these changes, we are still in business NOW, and we, individually, care about what we do and have a personal sense of responsibility to see things through.  So we have been pressing along, trying to keep afloat amidst the flotsam and jetsam that we are immersed in, simultaneously working on marketing ourselves, making our little niche visible to the echelons so that they will recognize that it would behoove them to preserve our function.  Miraculously, we have succeeded, and we have been given a life raft.  We’ve climbed aboard, soaking wet, and are paddling our way against the current towards the safety of the big ship.

~*~*~*~*~

I am grateful to have a job!  Grateful that I didn’t actually have to hit the streets and look for something different.  At the same time, these many months since the spring of 2013 have been so exhausting.  It’s been like a long and drawn out sickness in which bits of pieces of life connections are dying, and with each loss there is mourning and sorrow.  I’ve spent my life with these people.  This relationship has been thriving for 28 years, and now it’s nearly over.  The goodbyes are so hard.  I walk down the hall and peer into the cubicles and see only a few scattered faces here and there.  It’s empty.  It’s sad.  It’s like gazing upon a hospital ward during a war or a plague, with a few mangled hollow-eyed bedridden people holding on for dear life amidst rows and rows of empty beds left by those who  have departed.

A job is a job, and I can do almost anything, really, so the trauma is not so much about the job itself, other than the huge expectations levied upon us when we are already loaded past most people’s breaking points.  Even so, I’m a performer, and I will perform.  I can do that.  I will do that.

The trauma I am suffering is the loss of life, the life we have spent together for the last 28 years.  There is a lot of life that takes place in that many years.  It’s being forced to say goodbye.  I’ve been dragging my feet, not wanting it to end.  My new desk is thankfully in the next tower, rather than another city, so I’ve had the luxury of dragging my feet over the move.  I’ve been making the transition last as long as possible.  Everything besides my computer itself is moved, but I park my body stubbornly in the spot I’ve inhabited for the last twenty years, just so that I can see the occasional familiar face and hear the occasional familiar voice.  These are my people.  I love them.  Even though we have little to no connection once we leave the office, we are connected in the depths of our selves, from the years upon years upon years of time that we’ve spent together.  But it’s time to cut the cord and it’s time to leave.  I think that next week I will have to occupy the new desk.  I don’t even know how to express how this makes me feel.  It’s the end of an era.  I am a frazzled, emotional mess, and have been for quite some time now.

I’ve done all that I could.  I need to make peace with this and let it go.

It’s been so hard for me, and I don’t really know HOW to make that peace and let it go.  So I’m writing it out, hoping it will help.  Maybe it’s only something that time will ease, the way a scar will ever so slowly fade as it heals.

I don’t know.  But I have to move on and find new joys, rather than remain stuck under this cloud of sorrow.

I am so, so tired.

I’ve been thinking about the strength of the innocuous comment.  There is much weighty matter milling about my mind these days, and that isn’t anything unusual, but recently the gravity of certain things has elevated them to feature more prominently.  (I like the diametric play of gravity causing elevation.  If I can’t amuse myself…)*

It’s becoming clear that the prudent thing to do is look for a different job.  My job may survive, but it may not.  It hardly matters that my tiny team (there are only three of us) provides a critical skill that serves a great and diverse audience.  That is to say, for as much as it matters, the pain will not be felt until we are no longer providing our services, at which point it will likely be too late.  If or when that happens, there will be wailing and gnashing of teeth.  Time dilutes all woes, and eventually the needs will be met in and by whatever means are available.  Therefore, I shouldn’t shoulder too much responsibility for recognizing the anguish that is sure to come, because it won’t be my doing, and it won’t be avoidable by any action within my power to accomplish.

But it is that very sense of responsibility that keeps me dragging my feet.  Just because the giant corporation doesn’t understand the value or necessity of what we do, it won’t be the giant corporation who suffers first.  It will be the rest of the drowning rats who hold a sense of responsibility for the work that they do, who will suffer, while the ship is sinking.  I hesitate to take steps in a direction that will cause undue strain on those remaining.  Yet I have to remind myself that my own life is important, and if a ship is sinking, it’s best to have a survival plan or two (or twelve**) in place.

So many of my work friends are retiring, and for me it is a very melancholy time.  I don’t know why, but there has been very little cross-pollination between my work life and my home life through the years.  This hasn’t been an issue until now, when retirement rears its head for so many of my friends.  Until now, the bulk of our waking hours of life are spent together.  We used to laugh about how we knew each other better than we knew our significant others.   We don’t have relationships outside of the office, so the sense of finality is huge, when they walk out through the office door for the last time.  I thought of an old friend who had moved to a different organization, and wondered if he’d retired as well.   I looked him up in the company directory and was delighted to learn that he is still here.  We chatted about various people we knew.  He mentioned one fellow, with a lovely lyrical name (an Ethiopian), but I didn’t know him.  I told him that name reminded me of another fellow I worked with years ago, and shared his name.  Wonder of wonders, he knew him, and in fact had helped him obtain his visa so he could remain in the country and continue working with us.  He had known him before I had known either of them.  It’s a small, small world.  He hadn’t heard from him since 1988, yet he remembered him distinctly, and the fact that we three had this connection was a marvel indeed and brought a wonderful smile to all of our faces.  It’s funny how life is.  The mysteries of the universe.  Cosmic connections.

It turns out that a position is available in the department where my friend is working.  He has been quite happy there for the last several years.  The organization is very stable with very little attrition, so it is rare for a position to open up.  I am considering applying.  A month ago, or even a week ago, I don’t think I would have been inclined to pursue this further, but today, yes.  It’s not a question of whether or not I am qualified, but a question of whether or not I want to continue to ride the wave I’m riding.  At the least I will get to interview and learn more about the position.  At the most, I will be offered the position.  I won’t have to make a decision until I have a formal offer, so there is no harm in the pursuit.

So…   I told my dear friend who is retiring at the end of the month that our mutual friend sends his regards.  “His name came up recently,” he said, followed by, “Nobody likes him.”  Now, this is an innocuous comment***, and is nothing personal.  The context has to do with the work that we do, respectively.  I work in a service-centered environment.  Our job is to keep things moving, swiftly and safely.  The other department is more of a legal branch.  My other friend is somewhat likened to a king of the administrators in which it is his job to ensure that the “i”s are dotted and the “t”s are crossed.  This necessity can be frustrating to those who don’t understand the necessity.  This is also a reason why I may be particularly suited to the job, due to my innate peacekeeping quality coupled with my ability to understand multiple perspectives.

All that said, that innocuous comment stopped me short for a moment, and I briefly dismissed any thoughts I was forming about whether or not I would pursue this particular opportunity.  It brought to mind another comment, years ago, that steered the course of my very future.  When I was moving into my dormitory as a college freshman, I met the resident adviser and we chatted for a few minutes.  I had already chosen to major in electrical engineering and minor in computer science, however, it was day 1 and I had a little time (maybe it was a week or two) to change my designation.  She was majoring in architecture.  Architecture!  I loved the thought of it.  The word itself has a delightful ring to it.  I could envision myself merrily designing beautiful structures.  Ah!  Architecture!  I asked her about it, and she said “it’s very hard.”  Innocuous.   Those three words, “it’s very hard”, changed (or rather set) the course of my professional life.  I allowed that young woman’s perspective of her own ability (or lack thereof) to compete in such a field to override my own sense of capability.  It’s laughable, even, that I didn’t so much as make a simple logical comparison of the academic requirements for engineering versus architecture, let alone ponder for even a moment the young woman’s level of aptitude or competence in relation to mine.  I had no question as to whether I would be able to excel in engineering, yet that innocuous comment barred me from any further consideration of a field that I may well have adored, and in which I very likely would have excelled.

Hindsight can be valuable if it’s heeded.  I’m glad that these thoughts have been milling about and that that particular strain emerged to remind me that there is no reason why I shouldn’t consider ambling down another path for a while.

~-~-~-~

*I’ve been amusing myself with “vaguebooking,” and chuckling to myself as I write this article and recall all the various ambiguous things I’ve posted or partaken in recently on FaceBook.  Small World.  Fool me once.  It’s funny how life is.  Cosmic connections.  It goes on and on and on!

**Redundancy!  Ah the beauty of redundancy!  Failure is not an option!

***I eventually get to the point of my opening line.