Professional Whiplash

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My last day at my job of five years was June 10th. My first day at the architectural and engineering firm that claimed to love me was June 13th. Last Wednesday, July 27th, I had a feeling that I should call up my friend to catch up. Between my classes sucking up every spare molecule of brain function and willpower and her parents needing help moving from their decades-long residence, neither of us had found the time to connect lately. 

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Unravelled

miss you, little one by carvingbackbone | deviantart.com

In the past five days I have yelled at both my kids, had a sobbing fight with my husband, reamed one of my best friends for her behavior toward one of her family members, got into one major and several smaller arguments with my manager, nearly took the head off one of my vendors at work, threatened to terminate every vendor working on my portfolio, sent an infuriated email to my school’s financial service office, and came unglued with an undertrained Target employee.

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Taking the Night Off

  

I’ve declared a glass of red wine and no homework tonight for me! I’ll tackle the 12 pages of papers and 8 hours of reading I need to do this weekend. I usually spend Thursday nights at a friend’s house, drinking decaf coffee and catching up on life; otherwise I would never see her or the other friend I meet there.

The three of us are completely maxed out at the moment. One of them is an adjunct professor and she’s in a doctorate program. The other is a nurse, has four kids, two of whom she’s recently adopted, and her husband is in a doctorate program. They’ve become my sounding boards over the last few years. I don’t know what I would do without them. Between their crazy lives and mine, we have plenty of empathy to go around.

Here’s something I’ve been thinking about: I chose this crazy life of constant activity, so why not own it? Why complain about being busy, when really, I chose to do everything I’m doing. No one forced me to go back to school. No one is poking me with a cattle prod at work telling me to be awesome. No one would judge me if I just did a simple birthday party for the girls instead of the elaborately planned days I put together at least a month ahead of time. No one would think less of me if I didn’t get straight-As.

I’m this great on purpose, so I’ve stopped complaining about how busy I am, and I’ve started sharing the joy of my full and happy life. I’m healthy enough to keep up with it. My mind is buzzing with intellectual ideas. My relationship with the girls has never been better. Spike and I are doing an incredible job supporting each other (seriously, I don’t know what I’d do without him). Life is stellar! But nothing!

I could talk about how I’d love to have a self-cleaning house, but that’s really just another point of productive pride for me. I can be this awesome, and keep the house from looking like a catastrophe… most of the time. This week is a joke since our new plumbing sprang a leak. I’m sitting in the living room listening to the whirr of the carpet restoration fan (#thankgodwerent). My desk and its piles of books are pulled away from the wall. All the activity of the week can be told in the items strewn about the couches and tables. I’m not cleaning tonight, though. I’m writing. It’s taking some willpower, but I’m doing it!

Have I mentioned I’m an early-riser now? Our older goddaughter decided she wanted to be in choir and orchestra this year, so she starts school at 6:45. My alarm goes off at 5:45, which has never happened more than one day at a time in all my life. The truly awesome part about it though is that I work 7 am to 4 pm. The extra hour in the evenings to skip traffic, spend time with the family, and run errands is definitely contributing to my happiness factor. It’s also giving me an hour at work every morning with absolutely no interruptions. My stress levels have fallen out of sight! Who knew? Going to bed at 10:30 is weird for me, though. I don’t know when I’m going to get used to yawning at 9:00.

That about does it. I’ve run out of steam. Thank you for your comments and encouragements and thoughts. Here’s to you and your superb writing! I think about you all often.

Relating to the Gods

The Veiled Virgin by Giovanni Strazza

Two of my closest friends and I have been meeting irregularly for the last couple years. We finally managed to nail down a night awhile back that works for all three of us and read through Till We Have Faces by C. S. Lewis. I had never even heard of it, which was odd since I thought I new C. S. Lewis pretty well. Apparently it was the last book he ever wrote, and arguably his best work. Really, better than Narnia? Yeah, I’d say so.

The story is a re-telling of the Greek myth of Cupid and Psyche, from the perspective of Psyche’s sister. The story itself was excellent, but the end completely baffled me. Wait, what happened? I re-read the last few chapters again before we met, and I still felt like I wasn’t connecting all the dots. It made a little more sense as we discussed it, but wow… the line between myth and reality was pretty rough. Curiously rough. It begged to be talked about, which is what we did.

I could never be at peace again till I had written my charge against the gods. It burned me from within. It quickened; I was with book, as a woman is with child.

From the first page, the story eloquently describes the process of having it out with the Divine and ends with why it is so essential to do so. There are many other themes and powerful revelations, but that is the one I related to most.