I’ve not written a blog entry in a very long time. At certain points I’d ask myself why I just couldn’t sit down and do it. I felt guilty and lacked any inspiration. Honestly, when it gets to be something that feels more like a time suck than the original intention of keeping some kind of (fun and fond) reminders of my life as I march through it, it’s just not worth it. But more than anything else, I think I was just too damn depressed to add one more thing to my daily (or more typically, weekly) routine. My job had me in a strangle hold and I was losing it fast. In November, N finally looked at me and said “enough.” His wife was just a “shell,” he said. I’d leave for work literally hunched over and come home even more bent out of shape.
N came with me to the first meeting with the VPs and they encouraged me to go through a process to see if my job could be made more manageable. But apparently, as I found out later, the changes I was asking for are never accommodated unless “you have cancer and are old.” (What a precedent to set!) At least, that’s what they told me several months down the process road.
Wow. In the end, even a hospital is a business. I guess my thought was, “surely they’d want the doctor to be healthy so they can adequately treat their patients.” This was a dumb and naïve thought unfortunately.
I gave my notice the first of December—90 days per the contract. And then, for the next 90 days, it was nothing but drama and meetings. Those are two things that I probably detest the most. I think they thought I was just being a whiny little girl and that eventually I’d be quiet, put my head down and get back to work. That’s not me, though. Some of my friends at that office now describe what they did to me as “using” me like a “work horse.” I do work hard. But I refuse to do it at the cost of my health.
On February 29 (of course this year had to have an extra damn day in February!), N came to my office and we moved out my furniture, diplomas and wall art and I was free. I could feel a physical change and could breathe deeply again.
Sometimes the Universe knows what you need and a few months prior to my office move, I was meeting with a friend who owns a natural health office in town and she mentioned she had an office she was going to rent out. I asked if she’d consider having me in her office and that was that. The new office is a joy to be in. My patients even notice the change in atmosphere. And it also smells delicious (we use aromatherapies) in addition to feeling calm and being quiet.
In typical crazy me fashion, the day after we moved my office, we moved out of the rental home and into our new home. Talk about a drastic change. It was like walking out of a complete nightmare and waking up in something close to paradise. The rental was too big, too dark and too temporary. The new home is light, airy, just the right size and we are finally really settlin in.
Although we moved last June, it has taken almost a year to really start to feel grounded. That’s been a challenge for me. I function best with stability and a schedule that I can make and manipulate.
Since the big double move, we’ve been back to SoCal to visit with my sister and see the Indian Wells tennis tournament. I thought for sure that I’d be overcome with feelings of regret for moving away, but honestly, I was happy to be there just to visit and happier even to go home to what now feels like my new life.
I’ve had a birthday, too. I’m sliding down the slope to 40 according to N but I don’t care. My closest friend in TC gave me a card (along with an orchid that I will inevitably kill) that asks, “How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you were?” Now that I’ve got my life back, I’m feeling much younger than the 85 I was feeling back in November. Maybe even early 20’s– after I get up and move around a bit in the morning, that is. Life is good.
This post was a long time coming, but I’m feeling ready to get back to documenting my life.
I wonder, how old would you be if you didn’t know your age?