Gobbledygook
I’ve had this incorrigible illness for a month-plus, and I’m sure it will be aggravated further when I head BACK up north later this week for the corporate “prom.” But alas, there are bigger troubles to have in this world.
I should be working tonight. I might still. Maybe. I feel like, right now, things are shaky there. I have this to-do list that I’ve had 90 days to figure out. And a part of me has been like, “WTF does this have to do with reality?” It’s not that I haven’t been working — believe me, I HAVE. But I’ve felt like what I’m talented at is not what I’m supposed to be working on, but I’ve been working on that stuff anyway.
And then I saw a Joel Osteen episode this weekend that reminded me that you really do serve at the pleasure of whomever is paying you. And what they want from me is what’s good for the business. Even if it’s not my ballywick.
Let’s face it — I COULD do the same thing every day for the rest of my life. Or I can teach as much to it as possible to my staff while taking on all my new projects. I’ve been doing a ton of the former … just haven’t been so hot at learning all the new stuff.
So, I don’t know whether I’d call the employment situation “precarious.” But I’ve felt more confident in my day, sure. I find myself missing the InvestorRanch a lot. I just came in and did my thing. For the better part of five years, whatever I decided was fabulous.
I miss that. I will get back to that place, of course, as soon as I prove myself, I guess.
But it’s easier to prove yourself with stuff that you already know, y’know? If I manage to dazzle people with the database skills I have to acquire, well … yeah. I feel like I forget how to shine. And I hate that.
A part of me just wants to be left alone to supervise. I have people who have either never had a job, or who have never had a sane superior who is actually vested in their professional growth. That’s where I have fun. That’s where I make the most difference.
If I just learn all the other stuff they want me to learn (and let go of all the stuff I’ve already mastered), I’ll get my wish.
I am on a helping kick. Even if I’m not sure the effort is worth it. But I’m willing to throw myself in front of a train on the premise that everybody needs a champion at some point in their lives.
(I could use one myself sometimes. Just sayin’.)
And the one person who NEEDS me as a champion, more than anyone else on earth, is the person inhabiting my master bedroom.
I’ve gone through a spiritual transformation in the past few weeks. I think it was visiting all the southern/mid-Atlantic states with Lady L. Somewhere along the way, I lost my anger. (Not my frustration, unfortunately.) I’ve just come to realize that you only get one mother. And I’d rather we be friends than enemies. And that, frankly, it’s just easier NOT to fight on opposite sides.
That’s pretty much where I am right now. My soul has a high price tag now. Everything I want and love (or WOULD want and love, if only I knew what it was) is out there on the horizon *somewhere*. I want a master’s degree in organizational leadership/psychology. I want a husband. I want a book deal. I want a black AmEx. I want to be bumped up to first class automatically because I travel so much. I want to be free … free, I tell you, FREE … from anything resembling worry or need. I don’t want to EVER need mercy or sympathy or money because I can suffice quite well on my own, with or without those with bigger bankbooks or the ability to make or break me with just one mood swing.
I’m not aiming this at anyone or anything. I just realize in a huge way that it’s the grace of God — and, unfortunately, the occasional human — that determines whether I live in a penthouse or a poor house. And the day I stop worrying is the day that I can flush all my “mind meds” out to sea and start to *feel* again — to see the colors and patterns as brightly as my mind used to form them … to ride the lows to the highs and all the way back around instead of enjoying one mood 24/7 — so I can dig deep into that well and start to write with passion again. To not nod off a thousand times a year because I’m not stimulated enough (caffeine notwithstanding) to continue paying attention.
Maybe next year. Just, gotta do my damndest to get through this one first. [Affix perma-grin and keep remembering that others must have problems, too, to be anything less than chipper themselves.]