Limbo

I’m sitting at my desk at work while I write this, but it’s short-lived, you see. I’m quitting, or have quit — depends on how you look at it, I suppose. My papers are organized, references made for tricky processes, emails have been publicly archived, papers filed, and an away message set to begin in 30 minutes telling my customers that I no longer work here.

So, you see, if intentions count for anything, I have already quit but I haven’t managed to say the words to anyone of the faces milling about. I continue to take calls and process accounts while I sit here and muster up the courage to do it, to end this stage, this job that I’ve done well with, but that has been slowly sucking the enjoyment from my life for the majority of the two years I’ve sat in this chair.

I’m still sitting in this chair. My thoughts are screaming and my heart is pounding and the time is running out to muster the words to express my completion of employment. I’m in limbo and it’s eating me alive.

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The Losing Battle

It’s stumbling. It’s catching your toe on the smallest stone or crack in the sidewalk and suddenly you’re falling — again. Around and around you go, your legs spinning as you desperately attempt to right yourself, to keep from slamming into the ground. You might catch the arm of a friend or manage to pull up before impact, saving yourself the slow motion careening, but the bruises, breaks, and scrapes appear on your hands, you knees; the pink-cheeked embarrassment now one more affliction, one more weight, one more reason to hide.

Whether you crash or are miraculously granted a steady (for the time being) foothold, you’re shaken, you’re rocked to your core. With both feet beneath you, the world still feels slippery, as though you’re no more than a few moments away from ending up back there. It’s constant, overwhelming, never-quite-succeeding attempt after attempt to regain balance, to restore right. It’s a never-ending masquerade ball, it’s spinning and bowing and distracting nearby eyes from tender wounds. It’s a life-long charade, a fight to save face when, some days, you don’t want to try again, you don’t want to fight anymore, you don’t want to lose anymore.

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5 Truths

Kait Mauro is one blogger I’ve followed for a while, and one I’ve greatly enjoyed for just as long. She recently shared an introductory / list post, Identity, as a way for her readers to come to know her in a brief, succinct fashion. I love lists and I love introductions, so naturally I was quite taken with the idea. A few days after posting Identity, she posted 5 True Things, a list of truths or, as she puts it: “5 things I’m learning lately”.

Being able to identify and define my truths as well as my life lessons has been a skill I’ve only just begun pursuing, but it’s one that I recognize as being invaluable to personal improvement.

So, with that, I suppose I’ll share my own 5 Truths / Things I Need to be Reminded of Constantly:

  1. Happiness isn’t going to happen if I’m not willing to make the declaration, take the risks, and chase it.
  2. As stressful as hurdles and struggles are when things already seem incredibly tenuous, recognize the value in the process, revel in the accomplishment — then get back to it.
  3. Being afraid is acceptable; letting that permanently  stop all forward momentum is not.
  4. Not everything will turn out “okay”, but I will be more than alright.
  5. Go slow and enjoy.

Be sure to check out Kait’s writing, photographs, and truths over at Don’t Flinch.

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Versus

You saw me as one sees a figure through a one-way mirror, viewed through the reflection of your own likeness. Your multi-faceted image projected upon my own. Your fears, suddenly my own to overcome. You pushed your ideals and hopes over mine. You made your security the priority. There was no we to you. There was no us. You refused to step from your comfort zone to provide and assist and comfort.

You couldn’t see that unpredictability could be a good thing, that constantly seeking security could be holding you back.

It was you versus me. It was a battle to fulfill your requirements instead of working together to fulfill one another.

I doubt now if you ever understood me. If you ever really wanted me the way I was. Or if you saw me as a malleable novelty to be turned and worked and crafted.

I’m no doll, no blank to be reformed. I’m Kate.

Love me, understand me, but don’t try to impose yourself upon me.

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Walking Away

At the start, I fell for your soft eyes and your bright smile. I fell for your dry tone and quiet ways. I fell for your lack of hurry and purposeful actions. I fell for your logic and your conservative action. I fell for the fact that I was falling for you without falling into you, I was falling for my continued independence.

And it was good, great even, for a while — but the slow, intentional plodding that I’d fallen for began to feel like a glacial pace. Your reason and reservation became a chasm at my feet and with each of my stumbling steps I fell further from you, you lost patience and hope, and the chasm swallowed the ground beneath us.

Tumbling from your good graces, I realized something — the one thing that saved me: My desire to maintain and repair the ties between us, the ties you were so thoughtlessly cutting away, was losing to my desire to save me from this. Quite honestly, to save me from you. I’m letting go, I’m walking away.

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