Summertime has come and gone since I last wrote anything, and I'm glad. The second school year without me has begun, and the world hasn't stopped spinning due to my absence.
Yesterday I set foot inside a school building (NOT Xyz School, btw). It was for a non-school gathering. Being as this was my first venture into an elementary school in well over a year, it dredged up some things I never expected.
First, let me say, I'm so glad that I went to this event. For one thing, I got to hang with my 2 best friends, the ones who have been there through everything. And for another thing, it involved bingo and bingo makes me remember good times at my grandparents' home. My grandma had a dollar store bingo game and, for a younger me, playing bingo with grandma was the greatest thing ever. Don't underestimate the impact that everyday, seemingly insignificant things have on your children and grandchildren. It's amazing what sticks with a person.
Anyway, I had a great time. But when I returned home from this gathering, I just felt really strange, almost uneasy. I couldn't put my finger on it for a few hours. Finally, it came to me: I had gone into a setting exactly like the one in which I had lived and breathed and worked for such a long time. I was forced to face a small chunk of my 21-year failure. Turns out, that's kind of a big deal.
However, I survived and I got over the inexplicable uncomfortable feeling and was just fine. The next morning, I got the best text from one of my friends who attended the gathering. That text meant so much to me. The sender will never know how much. It's just nice to know there are still a few people with whom I can chat.
So, 24 hours later, I'm still kind of hashing it all out in my mind, wondering why in the world was I so upset after having such a good time seeing my best friends.
I think leaving a job, for any reason, is almost like you have ceased to exist for everyone that you knew and with which you had constant contact during that period in your life. It's like being dead, and yet there you are, still walking around invisible and seeing that everything just goes on without you. I'm ok with that. It's just an incredibly surreal feeling at times when I am forced to confront it.
I'm thankful I don't think about it that much anymore.
So, that's where I am now. As I look back at all the huge changes that have come in the past 21 months (see July 2013 posts), I realize I just never know what I'm going to think or how I'm going to feel from one day to the next. I see different facets every time I'm forced to analyze. At this point, I've become what I wanted to be when the whole thing started: a ghost. But now that I've finally achieved that, I'm looking to the next goal and simply learning to be content with where I am until I evolve into it.
I'm also figuring out along the way, that it really will never be over for me. Despite my best efforts, I can never get back what was taken from me. But, really, do any of us ever get our former selves back after a life-altering event? I'm inclined to think not, and have therefore ceased trying.
Turns out that's kind of a big deal, too.
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