For all my
fans friends on Facebook, you may be wondering why I’m living the high life of travel at the moment, first in Memphis last week and now in Florida this week.
Sometimes it’s hard being me.
Sometimes it’s anxiety-ridden-and-scary-and-keeps-me-awake-at-night-how-am-I-going-to-figure-this-out-oh-my-gad-it’s-four-am-and-i-still-haven’t-slept Hard being me.
It’s been that kinda hard for the past month or two or three, but who’s counting.
I worry about my future. My family. My life. It’s hard being 52 and skilled and looking for work and trying to remain positive and keep turning over all the possible stones, even those that seem to be covered in shit, but you turn them over anyway, trying to see if maybe the shit is just covering up the shiny parts.
I was working in that shit-covered-no-shiny-parts stone environment from November thru January and I just fucking refuse to do something that mentally fucked again. The Guy Who Ran It was mentally fucked, and the coworkers were backstabbers and I don’t normally talk about it because no good comes from negativity except FUCK THEM, so there. I had to get that off my fingers at some point.
Let’s just sum it up by saying it was a bad experience.
And it’s made me extra cautious.
But I need money.
Why is it so tough to make that happy balance?
Well, the Universe must have been hard at work moving things into my way, because two decent sounding opportunities popped up; however, they are both out of state.
My Mister told me, “Maybe Cleveland has given you all it has to give.”
But change decisions are hard. You grow a life somewhere, and to think of uprooting that life is scary and teary.
After interviewing at both places, I felt like I’d come where I’m supposed to be in Florida. The Universe has been hearing my yearning for life on a beach. She just had to first strip me of many things I need in Ohio before I’d be willing to consider leaving to make a new life. She stripped me of money, and good job possibilities have just seemed to dry up. Bad job possibilities are non-existent for me, too. I started a little business that I’m in love with, but maybe that’s just a “not right now” kinda thing, or maybe it’s something I’m supposed to have started and then turn over to someone else while I go and figure out this new thing.
I don’t know.
But I do know I’m not going to let fear and anxiety stop me from trying something new. So I’m putting one toe in the sand, and have said yes to the dress, and am going to try out the Florida Life and see how it fits.
So far just being here makes me happy in my soul, which is a term coined by my girl Steph, who also did a big scary move and kept leaping for what she wanted and found a fairytale.
She’s my inspiration.
I don’t know why the Universe has put so many old friends back in my path this past year. It seems rather rude to have reconnected only to lose them again, and so quickly. Old school friends, old work friends. They’ve made this decision bittersweet. But as I’ve always said, as the wind blows, things change. Right now it’s blowing ocean breezes my way.
I have to just trust that it will work out the way it’s supposed to work out. I can do hard things. As serendipity would have it, I was having breakfast at a little beachside cafe yesterday and a woman about my age breezed in and sat down with a guy and started talking about how scared she is to be alone, leaving all her friends behind, starting over again with no one down here by her side. At one point I leaned over and said, “Excuse me, I think we’re having similar lives right now,” and we got to chitchatting. She currently lives in Ohio, about an hour from me. She’s a couple years older than I am. She got a job offer that’s in Florida, about 45 minutes from where I’ll be. She’s worried about the move, and being alone, and having no friends and will it work out or is this is a mistake.
We exchanged contact info.
Her name is Santa. Pronounced “Sahn-ta.”
But really, Universe? You sent me a gift named Santa as a beacon that it would all be okay.
At least that’s what I’m going to believe.
What about you, Reader?