I’m sure the days of angst-ridden blog posts aren’t permanently behind me, but it’s a different world down here in South Florida. I just don’t have that many opportunities to feel stabby. (Except for being at home, but that’s a given.)
I went all “D.C. driver” on some asshole who nearly ran me off the road and cut me off. Let me explain, my new town? Has a speed limit of 35 mph. I’m not kidding. This was enough of a transition for the girl whose car doesn’t function under 75 mph on a slow day. But when you’re running me off the road in a fucking BEACH TOWN, come on already.
And the crazy Washingtonian in me got fired up and started SCREAMING at the asshole who nearly killed me. Compound expletives, people. Even I astounded myself at my creativity there. 🙂
So of course he jammed on his brake to put me right in the middle of the railroad track. Which pissed me off even further.
But I am also nuts enough to engage and I started following him with the full intent of ramming him if I had to. But as I had a precious parcel (my amazing friend T), I opted to turn onto another street and return to “Beach Goddess Zen.”
It was funny how easily the road rage returned. Of course, truth be told, I was talking about my mother at the time, so that explains it. 🙂 But had we been conversing about anything else, I presume my reaction to that jagoff would have been way milder.
It’s an interesting cultural shift to go from the heart of everything to, well, the edge of not very much. This is the land of flip-flops and board shorts. Sure, you’ve got the people who must get plastic surgery every time the temperature surpasses 85 degrees. (Which it does. A lot.)
And the best shopping malls have every designer label imaginable, and people are wearing them right out of the store. But really, everyone down here is pretty much riding their own melt. And I can’t believe I never considered this as a lifestyle before now. Of course, I never had the invitation, so there is that.
As I’m trying to un-burn out (my new boss said he’s aware that I’m “toasty”), I realize how truly addicted I was to my old job. Seriously, I was like a junkie. Had to get my fix, as often and as much as possible. So I find myself in a strange position here that I need to feed my addiction but that I’m also quite happy here in detox, too.
I remember when I gave my resignation, so many people asking me what my new title was. It was the same as the one I left, which just mortified them. But in a discussion about business cards yesterday, it was clear that I could put “Goddess” on them and nobody really gave a shit. It’s like, you have a job to do and you’re expected to do it. If being called one thing over another helps you to do that, then call yourself that. End of discussion.
I rather like that way of thinking. I don’t have to adhere to X number of allocated vacation days (not like I used them anyway — I just got a full payout of my unused four weeks’ vacation and it seems like SO NOT ENOUGH for the time I never got to take off that might have kept me from burning out); everyone takes care of their lives first.
As this is my first week and all, I’ve gotten apologies left and right from those who are dealing with health or other life issues who can’t entertain me right now. My god. I told them they’re setting the example I never really had — and I know that it’s OK for me to deal with my shit when it comes up. That’s more valuable to me than anything they have to give to me right now.
As I said, my beloved T is in town. And the poor girl is deathly sick. But unlike other companies that will drag you out of bed to come in and attend meetings, she was encouraged to convalesce from the quiet and comfort of her hotel room.
Because she’s my friend, I went to visit her last night and fill her in on the day’s events. And when I visited? I was armed with chicken noodle soup with matzoh balls, courtesy of a very caring CEO who takes care of his people.
How many CEOs do that?!?! Taking time out in the middle of his very busy day to go to the most-awesome deli in the world (seriously. I went there as they were closing to order a grilled cheese and soup for myself and OH MY GOD, *orgasm*) because he was worried about one of his people.
So when everyone was asking me why I made this move — what this new company had to offer that the old one didn’t — it’s the things like this that I saw. Sure, it’s a growing empire with a brain trust that could cure cancer if it wanted to (oh, the smarts contained in that office are mindblowing). But beyond the brain, there is heart … and lots of it.
It was hard for me to leave the old ranch because I was a superstar there. I never took advantage of it. Perhaps I should have. But going from a place where my list of achievements was a mile and a half long, to starting all over again with a blank slate plus a brain that’s best served with butter and jelly right now, has been very hard for me.
But what I love is that they’re ready to push me when I’m ready to be pushed. That doesn’t mean I’m sitting around, waiting for my brain to grow back. But I’m starting off with big, scary projects that are absolutely in the center of my comfort zone. And with people who want to see me succeed as much as I want to succeed.
And my marching orders include, “You will work on this from the beach.”
So for everyone who got pissed at me for jumping ship (and who are apparently STILL licking their paws over it), I wish y’all would back down off the ledge with the sniper rifle and understand that, while some people find what they’re looking for, what I’ve needed has found ME.
