Just Breathe...and Notice

Gimme 5

Yee-haw!

Resignation (with 2-weeks notice) was turned in this past Monday.  I have 5 more days of gainful employment.

Much to my surprise, the resignation process could not have gone any better (well, I suppose he could have handed me a sack of money and a magic formula to rid my ass of cellulite....that would have been better.).  But, really, it was just fine.  He did try to get me to stay by offering to change my job to something more in line with what I wanted -- and while I had a fleeting moment of temptation, I politely declined.  It might have been good for a few weeks, but accepting that offer would really just have been postponing the inevitable.  Still -- it was nice to feel like, at the very least, my work was valued.  I did agree to do some freelance work for him -- both as a writer and a scientific consultant.  We'll see how that goes....

Speaking of freelance, I have some other irons in the fire as well.  I have writing samples out and I'm waiting to hear back.  I do have one confirmed project (paid project!!) as an on-line columnist writing about parenting children with developmental disabilities.  It doesn't pay much but it's a start.  I suspect that, at least in the beginning, any real money will be in scientific/medical writing.  I think I'm OK with that -- it feeds my inner geek!

So that's it....after lots of tears and hand-wringing, it was all pretty anti-climatic. 

Abdication, abandonment, renunciation, vacating....

There's something so satisfying about synonyms. 

Resigned.

The utter insanity and hostility of my boss has trumped my desire to stay employed.  I am done.

Unfortunately (or, perhaps, fortunately) he is out of town until Monday so he won't get my letter announcing my 2-weeks notice until then. 

Let me just state for the record that I have never, ever just left a job.  I've never quit.  I've left companies to move on to other, bigger, opportunities.  But I've never left disgruntled and angry and sad.

Today I am all three.

I won't wallow for long though...

Less than an hour after the conversation that precipitated this decision (while I ran home for a quick cry!) I checked my email.  I had applied for some freelance writing work before I accepted my soon-to-be former job.  I was accepted as a freelancer, but I knew I wouldn't be able to juggle the job, the kids, and freelance work -- so I had to let the opportunity pass.  

I got an email this afternoon, from the company that had offered me the freelancing work.  The subject line made me laugh out loud, even while I was still crying. 

Welcome back, it said.

Welcome back indeed.

Blowing away the dust....

Boy, this whole employment thing is really getting in the way of my blogging.  Too bad someone can't pay me some fatty cash to sit around and write blog posts!!

The job is.....interesting.  It's good, really.  The work itself is fantastic, it's pretty cool to get paid for doing stuff I've spent countless years doing for fun (and free!). 

I've decided to try to approach life with humility and consider the dynamics as an opportunity for personal growth (do I sound like Dr Phil?).  It KILLS me to admit this but I have a pretty strong judgmental/know-it-all streak.  It's not a very attractive quality.  I generally try to keep it under wraps, but the shameful truth is that I spend a considerable amount of time (usually silently, unless I'm talking to Mr Kish and then I let it all hang out) marveling at the red-hot stupidity of the rest of the world.  It's not very nice and certainly not who I want to be.  So I am making a concerted effort to be quiet and listen.  Really listen.  Listen with an openness to the probability that I could actually learn a lot from these nutjobs.  Humility.  It's not for the faint of heart!

Oh -- and you know what makes it all easier?!?  A paycheck!  I got my first paycheck on Friday.   The first in almost 8 years!!!  It's hanging on the door of the fridge (they don't have direct deposit) and I keep walking by and caressing it!!  

+++++

In non-job news, we had a fun Halloween!  BB was a vampire.  He wanted to be the Grip Reaper, but the thought of my 7-year old dressed as the Angel of Death was just too freaky for me, so I exerted my parental veto and we settled on vampire.  LG was Dorothy (again!) and looked stunning.  She is particularly fond of the ruby slippers and would occasionally just stop to click her heels together and whisper (dramatically!) that "there's no place like home".   Good times.  :)

+++++

BB has been in a rather obsessive cycle these days, talking about little else other than movies, video-games, and roller coasters.  It's getting frustrating and worrisome.  Mr Kish is going to take him out to lunch today (gluten-free pizza with goat's milk!) and tell him he has 15-minutes to talk about video-games, movies, and roller coasters.  When his 15-minutes are up, Mr Kish is going to see if he can get him to talk about something (anything!) else.  While the boys are doing that, LG and I are going for pedicures and new earrings!!  Girls are so fun!

+++++

So, yeah.  Nothing exciting or earth-shattering here (except for my paycheck!!!).  I am hoping that I will fall into a less-crazed rhythm soon, because I really miss writing here.  

Pipecleaner.

Oh dear friends.  I'm having some "issues"!

I honestly don't know what the hell my problem is, but I have been a giant anxious mess! 

Know what I do when I'm a giant anxious mess?  I clean.  On Wednesday I cleaned out the car (to be fair, it did need it), cleaned the bathroom closet (how many ways are there to fold towels?), then removed everything from the china cabinet and buffet, dusted it, cleaned each drawer and then rearranged everything (time to up my meds?). 

Yesterday I washed they kitchen cabinets (not unreasonable) and mopped all the floors not once, but twice (likely overkill).  Then I washed the pipes under the kitchen sink (this is where I realized I might be in trouble).  

I have a long-standing history of cleaning during states of high-anxiety.  Waaaay back in 1999, when Mr Kish first suggested the idea of co-habitation (livin' in sin, yo!) I got up from my cozy couch where we were in the middle of watching a movie -- and I mopped the floor.  Poor Mr Kish was stricken.  It's nearly 11 years later and I still hear about that one.

Anyway, my point is that I'm anxious.  REALLY anxious.  I am completely terrified of starting this new job.  I'm not totally clear on why that is.  I mean, I've HAD jobs before.  This should not be such a big deal.  Right?  Do you think someone needs to just tell me to shut-up and get a grip already?

I think that part of it is that I'm scared of change.  I used to thrive on change -- I loved moving and changing jobs.  But I think I'm sort of worn-out on change.  Since Mr. Kish and I got married (9 years ago this month -- awwww!) we have had 2 kids, lived in 6 different towns in 3 different states, started a business, closed a business, overcome financial ruin (from said business), and dealt with BB's developmental challenges.  Unfortunately, most of the changes have been less-than-wonderful -- job losses, business collapses, bankruptcy, and developmental disorders all kind of suck.  We're not the wallowing types though and we've managed to hold strong to reasonably positive attitudes throughout it all.  Still --- I'm feeling a little done with anything that disrupts a status quo. 

I'm also just scared that I'm going to suck at it.  That I'm going to fail.  With a BIG FAT F!  This is really the part that sort of shakes me to my core.  I am scared of failing.  My identity has sort of always been wrapped up in being smart.  Honestly though, while I know I'm not stupid, I've always felt that I just sort of look impressive on paper.  I have an advanced degree is something that most people consider sort of exotic and impressive (neuroscience), and I guess I worry that peoples' assumption that I'm smart comes from my possession of that degree and nothing more.  I'm absolutely terrified of having to prove myself.  I'm terrified that I will have to face the possibility that I'm a fake.

I remember back to when I was in high school.  I I remember wanting to be involved in some writing competition but it was only open to the kids in the "gifted and talented" program.  I knew this, but I was passionate about being included.  I went to my guidance counselor and asked what I could do.  

She laughed at me.

She told me that I needed to accept the fact that I wasn't smart.  To prove it, she pulled out an IQ test I had taken in 3rd grade.  That test demonstrated that I had an IQ of 91.  Ninety-one.  Not only was I "not smart", I was actually bordering on below-average.  Six fewer points would have put me one full standard-deviation below the norm.  My whole world felt like it had collapsed.  While I had not had traditional academic success, I had not actually entertained the possibility that I was stupid.  

I pushed back a little and told her that, for fun, I had spent the weekend writing an essay comparing the three societies in "Brave New World" to Freud's Theory of Consciousness.  I realize this probably spoke volumes about the deficits in my social skills, but I didn't think it was something undertaken by someone who was "not smart".

She told me I was a pseudo-intellectual.  She also used our meeting as a chance to suggest that I consider going to vocational school instead of college.  You know, since I was "not smart".  She got 2 of my teachers to chime in and both offered similar counsel.  

Long story short -- I headed to college anyway (although I never did get to enter the writing competition) and did quite well and was even accepted to a highly competitive graduate program at a good university.  With a full scholarship.  I know that I am not "not smart". 

Huh.  This post has taken a turn I didn't picture.  I set out to complain about the anxiety surrounding my new job and I wind up blathering on about a 22-year-old injustice.  Hummm.....

So back to the anxiety.  Yes, I suppose I'm just terrified that I will fail.  That I will be discovered as the girl who's "not smart".  Who has an IQ of 91.  It's almost like I'm afraid my world will crumble again, like it did that day in my guidance counselor's office.  

There are other contributors to my anxiety surrounding this job.   What about BB and LG?  Will they like after-school care?  Will Mr Kish be able and willing to step-it-up and help out more?  Or will I have to continue to carry ALL the kid- and house-related responsibilities on top of having a full-time job? What if I can't do it all? 

What if I really suck at it and I get fired?

What if I found out that all I'm really good for anymore is cleaning the floors (and the car and the pipes) and throwing together dinner?

What if I can't find the bathroom and no one eats lunch with me?

I know, I know.  I have to pull it together - this is not nearly as big a deal as I'm making it.  People start new jobs ever day.  Even after nearly 8-years of unemployment.  I don't actually have an IQ of 91.  I can do this.  Right?

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go vacuum the roof.