Some say change is permanent. Others add that security is fleeting. I am finding that the older I get, the more I agree with both.
Approximately one month ago, I was let go from my job at a local community college. Shock and grief immediately set in, and I spent the next week curled up on my couch watching movies and regularly refilling the trash can with tissues. Oh Woe was Me.
Fortunately, I had a splendid support net, and like any faltering trapeze artist, I fell, bounced a few times, and then I crawled out.
Looking back over these past weeks of re-evaluating what was/is really important to me, I have finally admitted to myself that no matter how many times I said, "At least I have a job," my position there had become an exercise of fitting my oval shape into a square mold. Expectations of clericalocity (<-- my new word for the regular pencil pushers of the technology age) left little room for what drove my own passions, and I was left feeling smothered, under-appreciated, and, well, just darned unhappy.
People have often commented on how tranquil I seem to be under stress, and how pleasant I always come across to others. Characteristics that are certainly a plus, no doubt. However, back seat driving those very same traits is the tendency to become complacent while letting things roll off my back. Thus, it was easier to just internalize the challenges I faced (yes, I occasionally had to vent to my most trusted supporters, like any seemingly dormant volcano), than it was to charge head-long into a coup for change. Alas, no rebel am I.
Through this all, I am truly fortunate that my husband has been, and is, my staunchest supporter. Pulling no punches on the present job market, he has offered me quite a tempting proposition. He has suggested that I, at least, take the summer off to regroup, explore some creative ideas I have had rumbling around in my head for years, investigate alternative forms of income (nothing illegal or immoral, of course), and then, if necessary, take a part-time job to cushion our joint income.
This would, unfortunately, mean that we will need to move out of our house and sell it (we are looking at ways we can quickly and efficiently do this) which, in retrospect, isn't a bad thing since he has strongly admitted that he hates being a home-owner, with all of the snow-shoveling/lawn-mowing/unplugging-the-plumbing/etc. et al. With the advent of both of his daughters growing to an age where they no longer live with us part-time, this house has become much too opulent for the two of us.
Gone will be rooms of un-needed furniture, mementos, knick-knacks and general clutter. Sadly, it would also mean that he will be selling his vehicle (which he loved) as well as finding superb homes for our wonderful dogs. One canine has been warmly received at my husband's ex-wife's home, where his youngest daughter lives, and the other is poised to find happiness with a large yard, a cat, and two small children tomorrow.
Achingly, that seems to be the most distressing choice of all. Three months ago we traveled 10 hours to/10 hours back to rescue the dog of our dreams. And, always preferring a cat over a dog, I was surprised at the bond I have formed with my gentle giant these past three months, and will be heart-broken when she leaves.
However, we will be embarking on a new, and exciting adventure. I have always been fascinated with my own downtown, and have always dreamed of living in a loft in the heart of the city. Close to just about anything and everything (except maybe a grocery store, but the lure of having my groceries delivered instead of enduring the mauling I always seem to encounter whilst trolling the aisles of my own market here), the clincher was the mere five-minute walk to work for my husband, instead of the 40 minute commute (plus costs).
Change is, indeed, constant, and getting used to having no discernable schedule each day has been both a pleasure and a pain. I am still struggling with which direction I really want to take, since my mind and my passions, once encumbered by bureaucratic say-so, have been released. I have been given a marvelous opportunity to grow, once again, into the person I have always wanted to be. And how many adults get to explore so many youth-planned paths in their lives?
Being pushed off my perch, while stressful to the "nth degree," has been my liberation too.
Sie la Vie!
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