It’s my last day at the job. Everything is in place. My things are cleared away, files deleted or passed on, keys out on the table. My blonde little replacement is sitting up front, doing her thing as if she’d been here for forever.
I am thinking about grey.
The woman who has made my life a living hell for the past year got me a goodbye hubcap. Yes, a hubcap. My car only has three. I came to work this morning and there was a card and a hubcap on my desk. The thoughtfulness overwhelms me. Amongst all other things, she is and has been kind. Crazy and obsessive compulsive and controlling, but kind too. And considerate. She is, to me, the living proof of my thoughts today.
You cannot divide life into black and white, good and evil. Nothing is wholly one or the other. The Yin/Yang concept of Eastern philosophy makes sense, but I think it’s even more muddled than a simple black and white divide. We bring it all to the table, every day. The upbringing of our parents, the neuroses of our histories, the scars and fears that haunt our footsteps, our anger, our savage competitive drive. The sunsets we’ve seen, the small kindnesses and miracles that have been bestowed, a kiss on the forehead, an unexpected birthday phone call, empathy, a loaf of homemade bread, a funny movie. All of it muddles together.
How do you know when it is time to go? I am learning to recognize the signs. The things that were once exciting and new are tinged with the pain and cynicism of regrets and unforeseen costs. The worn-in tired feeling. The lack of surprise for any bad turn. They have treated me with unkindness, with blindness, and deceit. They have also paid for me to live and walked with me and lived alongside me as life has passed by these two years. Often it has not been good to be here, especially in this last year. But just because it has not been good, doesn’t mean it hasn’t been worthwhile.
I have had a lot of time to research and grow. I have had the good examples of successful women who try to balance careers and families and how to do that and how to ask for things and not be considered a bitch. I have had a space to put my things and expand. I’ve walked around this block hundreds of times. I’ve gotten flowers here and kissed boyfriends and had absolutely awful days where the fact that there was work to be done was all that saved me from wallowing in despair.
It’s time to go. It’s time to go. I am so thankful for the going. I am scared too.
It’s never simple. You can love people who hurt you and feel sadness at leaving a job that made you unhappy and feel nostalgia for places you couldn’t seem to get away from fast enough. But I’m grateful for the complexity of it.
I was here.
1 comment:
Much need to be said about this blog. I, too, share this feeling of nostalgia for many places, things, people. Though the memory left behind were a complex mixed bag, much of the reason for leaving something was due to the negatives of the bag. However, as you wrote, there are many other things mixed in as well. Sometimes, simply being somewhere for a long time, or many times leaves you feeling sad when leaving.
Somehow, I always find myself in western Europe in the winter. The grey sky of Hannover, the constant rainning of Dusseldorf, the wet pavement and muddy parking lot of Venlo and forever cold and cloudy atmosphere of Arhus are the most depressing sight I have experienced (aside from winter in Seattle.) Yet, while walking outside in the heat of the Salt Lake valley, one immediately recalls these European days. I wanted to get back there and now I am here, I wonder why I ever-so-eagerly wanted to be here?
Emotions, the irregular beat of your heart, the rush of blood to the head, the impulses drive much of our decisions. Often, the analysis afterwards, like your blog, give some reasoning-the cooling down phase to our thoughts, yet the biological response are so strong, it often overwelms any logic. That's why we blog. We "are" reasonable beings. Things are incomplete when we do not place that completion label on it. The blogging gives a sense of conclusion, to me at least. The trips to western Europe, much like an addiction, temporarily fix the delusional state that somehow Winter in Europe is at least memorable and unique.
I enjoy the way you write. I enjoy reading your thoughts. Your blog is thoughtfully written. There are much going on in your head, this must be a fantastic outlet for you. I can relate.
Keep writing, I am a fan.
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