it’s been a crazy couple of weeks. my valentine turned 5 months old and my guy turned 35. i quit my job. i settled an old debt. i received a bunch of money and spent it the same day, with nothing to show for it but gray hair. i had the best night of sleep in 5 months and the worst night of sleep too.
quitting my job has been a source of constant worry for me. when i actually did it i didn’t feel the relief that i thought i would. while it’s good to be done with it, it wasn’t a clean break. i’m still thinking about all of the people i worked with and for and who worked for me. i’m still thinking about all of the work that i did. i’m still thinking about it. maybe because in my more impulsive days i was known to quit jobs and then ask for them back. i’m worried that in a few months i will be wishing i had my job back, and the door will be closed. but i feel that it already is. enough time has passed to make it a different place than the one that i left.
mostly i am afraid of not supporting myself. i have a real ingrained fear of poverty. i’m not sure where that comes from. but i know that even while i was worked i carried that fear and worry. i was always afraid of getting fired, always wishing i could quit but feeling trapped. always afraid of something. waiting for the other shoe to drop. i’m always looking for safety nets. trap doors. but the amazing thing is my son. in some ways it is groundhog’s day. every day the same. and yet it never is. i love being with him. i love him more than i ever dreamed i would. every day is different somehow. there’s nowhere else i’d rather be.
i still feel that i am in a liminal period, somewhere in between the old and new. i am longing for a creative outlet and not sure where to find it. but quitting my job feels like a step forward. looking back at it i knew that going back was not a real option. i know that i am not there. i’m not sure where i’m headed and i’m not there yet. but i’m getting there.