So last month when I was unexpectedly handed my pink slip late on a Friday afternoon, the first thing I did when I got home was fall apart. Then I realized it was a sign. I believe in signs, you see. Life has a way of showing if you’re going in the right direction or not. They’re road signs…stop…slow down…caution ahead. They’re everywhere, yet most people don’t notice them. I do. I see them, though like the speed limit signs on Highway 50 through Northern California, I tend to ignore them. That is, until I can’t possibly ignore them anymore, when life sends me careening smack-dab into one. WRONG WAY.
Losing a job is one of those signs that I’m heading in the wrong direction, and it might not necessarily mean that on a professional level. I once left a job that changed my life personally, for the better or the worse, depending on how you look at it. I was single, in the midst of a nervous breakdown, lonely and afraid. I was an adult, yet still living at home. Then life gave me the greatest gift it could that sent me on an entirely different path – parenthood. CURVES AHEAD.
Last month’s sign has taken some time for me to comprehend. Part of that is I’m still battling my INFP and INTP thinking vs. feeling struggle. It hurt, but it’s been for the best. I had only been at this job for about 9 months, necessitated by my husband’s promotion and a subsequent move 3 hours south of the place I’d called home since 2nd grade. It was the first job I applied for and so was in shock when only a month after moving I was working as a Paralegal in a government capacity. I loved it, and since this is what I had trained to do, it felt right, and permanent.
Still slowly, over the months I became more and more lost. Where was I? I loved my job, but I didn’t love me. I had stopped writing to make this move, and it didn’t feel right. I couldn’t be at home with my children any longer, and that didn’t feel right. My home was always a mess and my mind was even more cluttered. Life knew where I was…and where I was going…but I still didn’t see that it was about to send me on a detour ahead.
I’ve now learned that sometime very soon we’ll be moving once again, this time only a couple hours east, but into a neighboring state. Where are you taking me, life? Today I couldn’t handle the not knowing anymore. I’ve sat here quietly in my room trying to figure it out. I’m not the kind who can go through life without a plan. I try desperately to set something in stone, knowing that it never happens the ways it’s planned. Why I bother, I’m not sure, but it has something to do with being a control freak. There’s one thing I’ve learned about life – you’re never in control. Never.
I decided to do the one thing that always takes me back to where I belong – journaling. I’ve done it for years and it’s therapy for my soul. Here’s some of what I came up with:
I’m trying to push things into fruition when I should be sitting still and listening to life around me. I have forgotten who I am. Well that changes now. I’m going to find who I am, remembver why I’m here and I’m going to LOVE IT. I used to love myself and then I got lost. I got married, I had kids, I got lost in the details. What happened? Where did I go? Where was I hiding and what was I scared of? Just because I had to “grow up” doesn’t mean I had to completely disappear. Who said I couldn’t continue to be myself? I may have grown up, but I’m still me. I still love music, I still love singing out loud to it and dancing around in my living room. I still love spending time by myself and I still love long drives down back roads and long walks through historic cemetaries. I still love taking photographs of storm clouds in black and white and I still love watching movies that make me cry. I still love being lonely now and then. Welcome back, you. I’ve missed you.
I’ve learned it doesn’t matter where I go, where life takes me. I’m not going to be happy if I’m not me. If this means writing, then I’ll do it, even if it’s not the financially-rewarding choice. If this means taking time away from the kids now and again so I can rock out with my Zen, then so be it. If it means taking a drive by myself down Centerville the next time I’m home, I’m in. I need to fall in love with myself again, and I know only then I will no longer feel lost.
You see, it’s not the road I’m on that is confusing me, it’s who I’m taking along for the ride. All these years, it’s been a stranger. It’s time my husband and kids know who I really am…and I don’t mean the person who can burn soup. I’m the person who loves life, and all its experiences, including the trips it sends us on that are less than expected.
I am a person who is not lost on the road of life. I see the signs. I’ve seen them all, except one. REST STOP AHEAD. Do it. Take a break. Learn who you are, remember who you are and who you are traveling with. Do you still know that person? Do you still love him or her? Be the person you are and you’ll love the
trip you’re about to take…
