Awkward Interaction

Ran into the Doc at the library today. I thought I recognized her, and then I knew I did, and then our eyes met and I didn’t know whether to say hi or not, and she stared past me and kept walking. Protecting my confidentiality is nice– and professional, but it’s also weird. Weird for me anyway, pretending not to know someone who knows a variety of details about my first experiences with intimacy and my true feelings about people I’m forced to be polite to. And weird in that way I used to feel as a kid when I saw my second grade teacher in the grocery store– “what? you have a life beyond that building I always see you in?”

It’s funny, because when I think about it I realize there are these little bits of things I do know about the Doc. I imagine it’s common to wonder about someone you regularly reveal your innermost thoughts to, and at the same time of course it’s reasonable not to have access to much about them at all. I know she went to school in Missouri and Connecticut because that’s what the diplomas on her wall say. I know she has at least two kids and that they go to schools in different districts for some reason because it complicates her availability for appointments around the time of spring vacations. I know she worked professionally with someone at my undergraduate school and that she knew my old neighbor, because he’s the one who recommended me to her in the first place, ten (!) years ago. I know she’s married, as she wears a wedding ring. I know she went from working in a business run by someone else when I first started going to her, to co-owning a business with other people now– because where she used to work a receptionist took care of billing and scheduling and now it’s all handled directly by her. And apparently she lives near enough by me to have reason to go to the public library in my town. And that’s about it.

It’s interesting to me that I found this chance meeting of non-interaction so awkward, because often when I see people I vaguely know in public settings I have an impulse to avoid them, a sense that I don’t want to be forced into smalltalk maybe? Or just a sense that running into someone makes me feel the need to be “on,” to entertain them on some level, to be worth talking/listening to. So in a funny way sometimes I see people and almost wish they would pretend not to see me. Sometimes too much of my life is a game of trying not to risk feeling too uncomfortable.

Job Lost Made for a Crummy Week

Kind of had an up and down week this week professionally. I applied to teach at my old high school and didn’t get the job, and I REALLY should have. I know the teachers they have there and I know what I’m capable of, and more importantly, I know how my credentials stack up by comparison. I also know that two people who left positions there specifically told him that I would be their first choice to take over their classes. So that leaves the interview as the apparent dealbreaker. I was interviewed by someone whose known me since I was 14 or so. Did that make me approach the interview too casually? Perhaps, or perhaps the fact that a LONG list of people were assuring me I would get the job so that made me complacent. (In my defense, the person interviewing me was barefoot at the time. Not exactly a cue for formality. But that’s petty I suppose.) My “spies” on the inside tell me that the only clue as to why I was not hired was a comment that I was “too vague” with my ideas. I’ve been feeling hurt, angry, frustrated, and sad about this all week. I originally made contact about the job early in the summer but the interview wasn’t until August. I did not get any notice whatsoever after the interview, only knowing I didn’t get the job because school started. I’m upset because I deserved at least the professional courtesy of notice, as there were other positions I did not apply for because I was unclear if I was still under consideration. Obviously this adds to the financial strain inherent in my starving artist lifestyle at the moment. But more than that I thought that the relationship I had with this person was such that if I didn’t get the gig and it really came down to a problem with my interview or something, that he would give me some feedback– “Look, we decided to go in a different direction, but I thought you should know…”– something.

So I’m annoyed with him because I feel strongly that he’s come to incorrect conclusions about my abilities, and I’m even more annoyed with myself– because somehow after all this time knowing me he wouldn’t think I would be good for his program. I know most of the people who encounter this blog at all will know that this isn’t a matter of my ego or something– this was a job that I was more than qualified to do, at a time when they REALLY need well-qualified people due to the particular mix of students they have  this year. So it’s all well and good for me to say “Fuck him,” — but if under these circumstances he didn’t see my potential then I really didn’t demonstrate it to him. And if someone who’s known me as long as he has doesn’t see that, how am I perceived by people who are just meeting me?

Interviewing is a skill, and maybe it’s one I need to work on. But more than that, I think I stumble a lot in putting myself  “out there.” I remember several years ago some work I did for a company got my name in the paper. And the head of the company, where I’d been working for three years, came down the stairs one day and said, “I saw that article. I didn’t know you were looking for a career in this. We should talk about that.” And it occurred to me how ridiculous that was– that I’d been working there three years, in and around this man who had a lot of connections that could be beneficial to my career– and he had NO IDEA that I had any particular aspirations of interest. There are a lot of people in my life, people I daresay have less to offer the field than I do, who would never have let something like that happen. And it’s all well and good to complain that “nobody notices me,” but what have I done lately to get noticed?

Because I’m Out of Practice on the Whole Blogging thing…

I’m writing even though I’m not really sure what I have to say.

It’s been a weird time in Seeing-the-Doctor-land. I’m on COBRA thru my old job but it’s stupidly expensive so I tried to apply for a cheaper self-employment health insurance and was rejected — on the grounds that I’ve seen a psychiatrist and taken an antidepressant. Apparently people who go to health care providers and follow their advice can’t get health care. Looking into my other options but Holy Frustration. In other news the Doctor was encouraging me to look into a group therapy option in addition to seeing her, but now that she knows I’m seeking health insurance she doesn’t want to do that lest I “seem sicker than” I actually am.” My initial reaction to the whole group therapy thing was one of mild panic, a why-am-I-not-just-cured-or-something feeling, just a sense of What Now. But then when suddenly the Doctor reversed course I’m ironically more frustrated not to be looking seriously at this option– suddenly it’s something that Might have been good for me that I’m not doing but only for a really stupid reason. So, instead of looking at a therapeutic option she’s suggesting I find a singles group, not a dating organization but some kind of SinglesWhoHike or StampCollectingSingles thing. This came out of my questioning a couple weeks back of what real progress I’ve made, my need to do/see something concrete. Of course, she sees progress I find invisible, or even feel guilty over– i.e, she considers my increased “disloyalty” to my family progress. When we were discussing this she implied that maybe I wasn’t feeling like therapy was the right thing right now and that panicked me more than all the rest. I don’t know how people decide that they “don’t need it” anymore but I guess I’d like to think I’d have a series of appointments that didn’t involve hopelessness or crying as a precursor to  considering such a thing. I guess, but don’t really know, that I’m in a stage of therapy that a lot of people go through– I’m not immediately in crisis or anything so I’ve had more time to process and thereby feel badly about a variety of things and the question becomes what to do with the information. The Doctor says that I missed a developmental stage, that I’ve been parentified and that I “parent” my family in a variety of ways, sacrificing my self in the process. I’ve actually started to wonder if, at some subconscious level, I’ve never had an intimate relationship because that would hurt/upset/discomfort my family. Screwed up. Got it. Now what?

In non-mental-health news, things have been overall better than I had expected. I’ve had enough work and been paid decently for it all– without feeling like I’m in constant stress every week. I finished a show last week that was well-received, I’ve managed to pay my bills, and at present I’m set till mid-June or so when school lets out. I’m a bit anxious to be losing that employment-safety-net of substitute teaching for the summer, and trying to think more seriously about what I really want both for the summer and after. With a friend of mine going into grad school it’s looking good that I could teach her classes at my OldHighSchool and make a decent living, especially on top of some other freelance projects and the Tech gig I’ve got at a private school now. But of course all that would keep me Here, with all the family issues and career direction confusion Here has. On the other hand, leaving presents a million other scary prospects of it’s own. I don’t want to turn away from a good oppotunity (should one arise) just because I’m afraid to step out of my comfort zone, I’m just struggling to figure out what exactly I want that’s worth taking such a risk. So. Don’t really feel like I’ve stepped forward, but the breathing room of I’m-in-Transition has been kind of nice.

I’m not sure I trained enough for this particular marathon…

I love Christmas. And I have loved the Christmas-ness of this Christmas. Every night for the past week has been a joyous special thing that only the glittery soul of Christmas can create. My apartment is clean and sparkly with Christmas lights and candles and I’m hopeful that this little step of having a pleasing living space is a sign of more pleasing living to come.

Twice I visited my friends in the Christmas show I had been a part of for the 6 years prior. I miss it, and I miss them, but I guess it may be better in this season of change in my life to have had less of the running around that particular gig required. I needed the time. I mourn missing out on what was special there, in the same way I have mourned my leaving the Real Job– but I’ve been better for it, I’m sure.

I was part time through December 20th, and on that day a party was held in my honor. It was an odd collection of people but a very sweet little gathering that left me feeling cared for and more hopeful/less sad than I had expected. Not everything was done that needed to be done, so the loss was dulled by the fact that I still had my keys and a few files– it wasn’t like I wouldn’t be back. But I am coming to terms that I need to face this- finally, and really– and as I was driving around yesterday I found myself repeating aloud, “I don’t work there anymore. I don’t work there anymore…” My sleep has been filled with a sort of anxious self-loathing collection of dreams, in which I’m often late for appointments, unfairly accused of wrongdoing, and consumed with feelings of guilt. Apparently there is still shit to work out…

My week overall, however, as I mentioned before have been very special (if distracting,) and gratifying– but exhausting. An overview:

CHRISTMAS EVE

• I did my very gift bag/candy run and then saw the Christmas show. HIGHLIGHT: Playing Santa handing out candy to everyone and my friend C’s reaction to his Christmas present. LOWLIGHT: I miss them.
•  After a quick stop over at my parents’, I went to dinner with Soon- to- be- in- the- Navy-Cousin for Christmas Eve dinner, of which I only had time to eat a little bit before running off to be late for Church. HIGHLIGHT: Hanging out with Cousin. LOWLIGHT: There’s only so much I can take of one particular relative’s arrogant talk.
• Church. HIGHLIGHT: The music and candles made the rushing back worth it, and my Minister’s grabbing my arm on my way out to see if I was working and how I was made me feel noticed and cared for.
• Stopped back home and said hi to my landlord’s family, and then drove BACK to my parents, tossing presents under the tree and then sleeping in the guest bedroom upstairs. HIGHLIGHT:  Landlord’s son (who used to live in my apartment) was very impressed with my apartment, which I was so proud of . LOWLIGHT: I wanted to spend more time with them but it was hard not to feel like I was intruding on a family moment.

CHRISTMAS

• I got to sleep in and Sister, Brother-in-Law, and BestNieceEver showed up sometime in the early afternoon, better than last year. I got a cordless phone I’d been needing and knew I was getting. BestNieceEver wasn’t real interested in the whole sitting around opening presents thing but otherwise it was a fun time. My presents were well-received overall.  I had gotten BestNieceEver a magnadoodle and her first pair of jeans, both of which seemed to go over well. My dad seemed simultaneously mystified and impressed with his new iPod Shuffle and my mom has been reading the books I got her, so those seemed to have been a hit too. HIGHLIGHT: Playing Let’s-Throw-Wrapping-Paper-in-the-Air with BestNieceEver. LOWLIGHT: Brother-in-Law was freaking out about being late for the party with the other side of his family so he spent most of the time there looking at his watch.
• I headed back to my place in the evening and enjoyed a quiet night with my Landlords, exchanging presents and eating Christmas cookies. HIGHLIGHT: Peace and quiet.

FRIDAY

• Friday afternoon my friends J&J came over with their 3 kids and we had ice cream sundaes and played Apples to Apples. The kids seemed to enjoy the books I got for them but it was clear they weren’t as cool as the seven million other presents they’d gotten in the past few days. J&J are probably going to hate me for the Joke Book I got their middle child– she has taken to reading aloud from it nonstop and the jokes are, well, pretty bad. HIGHLIGHT: It was wonderful just to be with my friends.
• My parents came over later that evening before heading off to see the show I had gotten tickets for them to see, and then I was off to a Christmas party with the Christmas show people. HIGHLIGHT: My dad called me later just to say he loved the play. I rule!

SATURDAY

• The Big family party at my Dad’s Cousin’s house. HIGHLIGHT: BestNieceEver was the hit of the party. LOWLIGHT: My Great Uncle cried– he has lost 3 siblings and is so depressed… and no one really knew what to do.
• After I got back I turned around and went back out to see Urbanblight and some of our old friends from high school. HIGHLIGHT: It was great to talk to them. LOWLIGHT: I wanted more time, and one of our friends seems particularly depressed.

SUNDAY

• Sunday was my friends J&J’s daughter’s 13th birthday. HIGHLIGHT: The little time with them I had before running off to the next thing. LOWLIGHT: The holiday was really beginning to wear on my at this point.
• After that party I was off to a reunion of sorts for my high school at a local bar. HIGHLIGHT: Talking to people I really haven’t talked to for ten years. LOWLIGHT: Wishing my Life’s Transition wasn’t the main story I had to tell.

MONDAY

• Went back to the office and did a bunch of stuff I wasn’t paid for and won’t be sufficiently appreciated for. Cynical? Maybe. But it was my choice and I still feel if I hadn’t done it I’d be worried about those things.
• Sleep deprived and barely functional I did  something truly crazy. I had the kids I used to babysit– now 12 and 15!– to sleepover. We watched THREE episodes of Quantum Leap, played Scrabble and Apples to Apples, and I somehow managed to stay awake to just past midnight. HIGHLIGHT: They fell in love with my favorite TV show.

TODAY

• After the girls left I fell back asleep for several hours, despite really needing to tie up a bunch of loose ends at the (former) office of mine. OldBoss sent me an email officially announcing my Replacement, who had confidentially told me of their offer last week. Still sorting out how I feel about all that.
• Went off to a Holiday Dinner for a scholarship foundation that gave me an award in high school. HIGHLIGHT: Good food. LOWLIGHT: Not really having much to talk about to anyone, except the kid I used to babysit– who’s now more than a foot taller than me and in seminary school. I feel old.
• And now, back at my parents’, where BestNieceEver is sleeping over as well.

 

So yeah. Kinda tired. Somehow supposed to go to two parties TOMORROW too. We’ll see if the weather– and my stamina– cooperates.

Stage 3

I seriously just had an epiphany. This thing I’ve been doing? It’s bargaining.

On a Day After Thanksgiving Ten Years Ago Today

I was at a funeral I could never forget. Sitting in the surround-sound call-and-response of a Baptist church as the preacher talked about how God created them Male and Female, watching and hearing the outrage (and approval) around me, my head spinning- not fully able to comprehend what was happening. The preacher droned on, saying “and the Bible says…,” “because the Bible says…,” “remember the Bible says…,” — and I sobbed, embarrassed of my Christianity, angry to be part of a human race that could desecrate the dead, ashamed to be a witness my Dear Just-Turned-20-Year-Old friend be attacked even in death.

I remember seeing Urbanblight’s stone face in the back of the church as several people began walking out of what he would later describe as the most offensive thing he’d ever seen. I remember Uccellina somehow magically appearing next to me and somewhere in there after the fifteen thousandth chorus of “the Bible says” I reached out and found the Bible in front of me, running my hands through the pages until I found the sex laws in Leviticus and tore that thin paper out and found a tiny fraction of relief. In my grieving mind I could live with “the Bible says” being shouted ahead of me, so long as in my head I could reply “well THIS one Bible doesn’t.”

People often say they don’t remember their 21st birthday and the drunkness it often involves. But I remember that when I turned 21 a few months later, I realized it was a blessing he would not get. The finality hit home as I realized that to turn 21 was not a Given. I was blessed with these past ten years, and I’ve done my best with them. My Friend would have been 30 this past October, and I often wonder where his life would have taken him. I imagine it is hard the first time ANYONE goes to the funeral of a young person, particularly one who had been close. It was inconceiveable to imagine that someone so strong and healthy, someone who had been such a friend to me– could suddenly be gone.

But Friend’s passing left me with more than an increased sense of the Fragility of Life.  It changed me as a Person of Faith. Neutrality was no longer an option. I have tried to remember him well and to tell his story when it mattered most. It is in this way that I have come to some meager peace over such tragedy, to find some comfort that the tale of his passing could make a Difference, and that one day it would be unimaginable that such a thing might happen to another. May he, and the others whose tales are far too like his, rest in peace.

Moody Tonight

So my ear doesn’t hurt as much but I still have this weird sensation of being underwater when I talk. I’m coughing up my lungs less often– very much looking forward to being UnSick again. Workaholism and Depression probably get me sick more often than not, and they don’t interact well with sickness when it does arive. I get less done when I feel crummy, which then makes me feel more lousy, which then makes me push myself more, which then drags the physical-me down further. I’m not surprised I got sick, it’s a tradition of mine when I hit a particular marathon’s finish line (I bet a lot of you Theatre Folk out there caught a fever after Tech more than once…). It hasn’t really been the Finish though, its just been the Beginning of this strange period of having one foot still in the Job and one foot drawing away– working “part time,” at least on paper but not (yet) finding the consuming nature of the work lessening in my thoughts. It is almost as if, since I don’t have an obligation now to go into the office as much, I’ve been freed, paradoxically, to spend that “lost time” on the phone, on the internet, and wrapped up in paperwork in my pyjamas. I know this is not Not Working. And I know these habits are a cross between the Unreasonable Demands that Meant I Need to Leave in the first place and the Unreasonable Workaholism that Kept Me Here So Long.

I imagine to most of the people in my life, it must be pretty tiresome when I talk about where I’m at these days emotionally. I hum along fine and then suddenly it’s like tonight, where I’m back at square one, grieving this thing I’ve called My Job and trying to figure out what direction it is that I am to go in Next.

Today there was a meeting where a gathered committee discussed the various resumes that have come in and decide which are worthy for interview as my replacement. I wasn’t a part of the meeting, except to rudely interrupt with a question for my Boss as I was on my way out the door. But it scratched against me a little, the way fingernails scratch on a chalkboard, and I hadn’t expected it.

I’m trying to figure out why this all affects me so deeply. My Job made me feel special, it gave me purpose. It gave me something to do that I was uniquely able to do. I loved my Title, my Office, my System of White Binders on the shelf. I was in love with the potential my Job had, and enamored with the idea that I could Make It what I wished it could be. I wanted to redeem an Organization that had meant a great deal to me as a child. And when things fell down because there wasn’t enough funding, or staff, or lead time– I took it as a personal failure, thinking that if I had Just Worked Harder, if I hadn’t been So Tired, if I hadn’t let OldBoss get me down, and if I could Just Be Patient… it would be different.

In a way, I grew accustomed to whining while in this position, a tradition carried over from my time working for the StageMotherSchool. Whining is usually about being Righteously Annoyed, not Angry really. I was surrounded so often by behavior and situations that others might have gotten Angry about. But I never really owned Anger here. I couldn’t be angry in the disgusted way outsiders who came along were. I loved this Place so much. And I had worked so much to make It better– to be disgusted with It was to be disgusted with myself. So I would whine, to those few who both listened well and every now and then add fuel to my whining– it got that frustrated energy released, my ego massaged, my view of events affirmed. Of course it got old to listen to sometimes, and even the most patient in my life would wander into the “So Why Are You There?!” territory and I’d scuttle away emotionally– knowing I had complained a few moments too long. It was okay if I was the noble victim, if I could garner sympathy and support for my mistreatments and still go back in to work the next day. But I couldn’t handle the implication that I was pathetic, attaching myself to a situation that a grown up would– should– walk away from.

It is this that I was afraid of. This sense of What The Hell Am I Doing. Who Am I if not this Title. More than that even– Who Am I If Not The Saving of This Place.

Maybe I’ll find Somewhere Else to Save. Maybe I’ll be Special in a million new ways to come. Maybe there will be Someone To Come holding my hand, and I’ll realize I never could have given to them or gotten from them if I hadn’t taken this step. Maybe I’ll find a way to value myself highly with or without a current Great Project. It’s scary to step out into a whole lot of Maybes. I guess the one thing the Whirlwind of my Job always had was that– the Constancy of that Whirlwind could always be counted on. When the Whirlwind stops suddenly there is a whole lot of empty space for thinking about the things that make me feel inadequate, the finances I’m not sure I will conquer, the strains within the love I have for my family. Sometimes I have more pain in me than I would like to acknowledge.

Moving into Stage 2, I think

Looking back on this past week through the lens of the grieving process, I realized that I denial was a huge part of my experience. I couldn’t handle talking about the situation, and I certainly wasn’t making preparations for the future, or experiencing any kind of relief. Mainly I was (and in many ways still am) just kind of mortified to be here right now. In the midst of all this sadness and impending displacement, I mean.

But something new has been popping up, which I suppose confirms that this really is a journey in mourning. I’m angry. It hadn’t really occurred to me that I was angry at first. Around Thursday I stopped in at my church and talked to one of the ministers there. I felt like I wanted to talk to someone totally objective who might be able to help. I talk to my friends but I worry a lot about boring/annoying them. I feel a lot of the time that they can’t possibly grasp what has happened for me. I want to be a champion of my own courage, to brag about this move and its symbolic power in closing a chapter of my life that included a lot of distress. But instead I have felt distracted, foggy, at times miserably sad. Underwater even. I know from experience that you can’t float up out of the lower limits of depression on your own, so I reached out. He is the one who brought up that I was probably angry.

There’s something about my upbringing that makes me apologetic at the notion of being angry. At any rate, when he said it, and I thought about it, it was clear that it was true– if hiding deep below the surface of all the wanting-to-hide-under-the-covers-ness, it was definitely there. I’m angry at the ways I feel I was badly treated. I’m angry at feeling “forced” to leave a job that I in some ways felt born to do. I’m angry at the misinformation already spreading about, regarding my reasons for leaving and my abilities in my position.

Minister said I should read some Psalms. In my denial/anger state I didn’t take the suggestion very seriously, but really I don’t know what I was expecting. Of course that is what Minister would say. And it certainly can’t hurt. He said what’s great about the Psalms is that they’re filled with the voices of people who’ve felt let down or abandoned, people who often aren’t necessarily thrilled with God. I have clung to God throughout the process of getting to this point– first trying to discern what it was I ought to do, and then praying–begging really– that I might have the courage to go through with it. My spirituality has always been a friend to me when there was no one else to make something happen but me. It definitely got to a point where there were no more conversations with friends to be had, no pros and cons lists– just action needing to be taken. But while His voice was there for me as I made the decision I guess I haven’t really been able to key into that yet since the decision has been made. I know I’m not alone, and I know making it through this journey will certainly be easier with a faith that I’m taken care of and going where I need to go. But I guess I just haven’t been ready to really… be spiritual… in all this unhappiness. It doesn’t frighten me, I know my religious connection will be there for me when I am ready for it, but I guess sorting out my feelings has been a bigger priority thus far.

There have been times in depression that I feel alone with my God, in some ways closer to Him than ever– underwater and yet with a witness at least. Other times are like this, when I know He is there and will be there, but I kind of ignore– almost avoid– that part of myself because I feel like I need to re-align. I’ve always said I would be a mess without my believe in God. But sometimes WHEN I’m a mess my belief in God, for better or worse, becomes a bit of an afterthought. Maybe, like those Psalmists, as I see myself moving away from denial and into more anger, if nothing else I’ll have more to say to Him.

So What’s It Like?

Well. It kind of sucks. Since giving my notice of course I’ve been increasingly aware of the thousands of things I have to do for my job, in addition to the inordinate things I was already doing, to somehow magically make it possible for someone else to step in. This has been made far more difficult than necessary due to the fact that I am distracted, depressed, regretful, resentful, and/or just generally out-of-sorts 95% of the time. In short, I am in shock.

It’s as though something has happened TO me. Except it’s something I made happen. It seems ridiculous, but I’ve honestly been thinking, this is something of what it must feel like to get a divorce. I can barely speak of my resignation yet without crying. I have a hard time looking at a calendar because my “end date” jumps out at me and I can’t wrap my head around the concept– I’m leaving? Where will I go, where’s my identity, when this is all behind me?

Resignation. A workaholic’s nightmare.

i did it

i resigned. nervous breakdown commencing… now.