I don’t think I’m a superstitious person, until I am. I’m a neurotic person, until the relief comes and I feel– almost hysterical giggles. I’m a pessimistic person, until something so right slaps me in the face and I just can’t believe that it’s happening– here, the kismet of a hiring manager who’d traveled the same college (no, we went to the same school, only a few years apart)/attorney practice burnout path that I did.
I’m still learning to defend my right to write my own endings, to not just flee in panic and blow up my bridges behind me because I don’t believe I deserve the good things (even though I kind of did paint myself into a corner about needing to find a job ASAP), but it’s not the same kind of complete shut-down and self-sabotage I’ve engaged in before.
Sure I mouthed off, but I was right, and if I’d been fired, at least I’d have collected unemployment, because I’d have been able to prove that she couldn’t take 360 degree constructive critique. Still, I couldn’t help but be– shocked and relieved at how quickly it all came together, or to feel like I had the universe’s blessing when “Graceland” came on in the car as I was turning off the highway and into the shopping center as my resignation letter poked out of my bag, as lovely and light as the anticipation that filled my chest with (for once) joy (and not dread).
I’m not saying my new employer is the be-all end-all, or that snarling at your boss because she’s a slacker is the best way to light the fire under your own ass to hasten your job search, but– as I drove in to work and happened to pull in right behind my boss as we arrived at the same time, Paul Simon’s singing
“And I may be advised to defend
Every love, every ending
Or maybe there’s no obligations now
Maybe I’ve a reason to believe
We all will be received
actually seemed like, for me, it might actually be true. Maybe there’s someplace I’ll let myself be received, at least for now.