That long job search I referenced last time... still going. Which leads to the fact that I am still at point A in the move, having only budged 12 miles to a new apartment. I haven't been at a complete lack of progress though. I did quit my job that I hated with a passion! Being jobless may not seem like a step in the right direction, I certainly didn't think "unemployed" was on my short term goals list, but getting out of my comfort zone to move forward was. So, I quit. Having enough saved, an amazing boyfriend who pays the rent, and odds and ends jobs to make just enough to keep me afloat, I have hurled myself from the comforts of a full-time, 401k contributing job, into the unknown of a life in transition. I also like to now consider myself a full-time writer. Which comes with a very loose definition (and an even looser paycheck). As soon as you tell people you are a freelance writer they want to know who you write for or what you write about. This is when I like to point out that the beauty of being a writer is that you don't necessarily have to be writing for anyone. As for what I write, most writers will write about what anyone wants to pay them to write about, or whatever comes to their heads. Take this entry as an example. It is past 2 in the morning and here I am updating a blog I haven't touched in 3 months. I suppose I can thank my dog who decided to wake up and play "Pukey the Clown". A comedian I saw once said that a puking dog noise would make the best alarm clock ever, and I have to agree.
But I digress...
Quitting my job did not come as an easy decision. I am a Gemini, so no matter what the decision is, I more times than not have 2 sides of myself arguing which is the better way to go. This particular decision came with much praying to both God and my mom, pleads for signs of which ways to go; a tug on my heart strings in one direction, a change in the force of the wind, anything really I would have accepted.
This is what I believe to be a hidden stage of grief: Indecision. I think it can be there for anyone who has experiences loss. Some greater than others, and some may not even realize it is there. But for me, it is a huge stage in my grief and now my life. Growing up my mom was my biggest decision maker. It goes back to my phone calls. I would love so much to just call her up and ask, "what do I do next?".
In the hospital right after my mom died, I didn't cry. I remember my dad telling me that some people experience a strong sense of peace immediately after someone close to them dies, and I did. After all of the machines were turned off, the lights in the roomed were dimmed, we gathered her stuff, and said our final goodbyes. I had stopped crying by then, clutched her pillow in one arm, grabbed her hand with mine, squeezed and said "bye, mom". I remember waiting for the elevator, still clutching the pillow, and I was overcome with that sense of peace. I wasn't worried about school the next week, or what was going to happen the next day, how I was going to sleep that night, or anything. I was just at peace. The ride home was silent and when we got there I made a few phone calls to my closest friends letting them know, spreading the news in a "it was better this way" sort of fashion.
The next morning was grey and rainy. It is the day that most movies skip right over; the details day. My dad, aunt and myself set out to run some errands, one being getting me something to wear to the visitation and funeral. As we walked through the department stores I was completely overwhelmed. I had always loved shopping... but with my mom. She had always had final say and what we bought and what I wore. I didn't know what I liked or what I was looking for. I had no idea what she would have wanted or what she would have said. With an arm load full of dresses, I was led back into a huge dressing room complete with a bench and terrible lighting, where once alone I finally cried. I curled up into the corner and sobbed. It was the first pain of wanting my mom and knowing that she could never be there again. Indecision had cracked the flood gates.
This also started a habit of crying alone, but that was a personal stage of my grief that we can come back to.
So here I am, dancing with indecision. I could have taken any random job just to get me going, but I am sick of terrible jobs. But it is more the indecision of what am I going to be when I grow up, or what is my first step into the next chapter of my life?
Who am I going to be?
My Gemini twins will fight, I will continue to pray... but the waltz of indecision will continue. I just have faith that the answer will come to me at the right time, and life, woven with my crazy cycle of grief, will move forward.
