My hubby and I managed to get through two years without catching Covid-19. Until now. He’s fine, but somewhere in the last couple of days, my luck ran out. Let me just interject here, I’m fine. Feels like a cold, a low grade fever. Thank Goodness, nothing serious. Obviously, I’m quarantined for the next week or so, so I’m pretty much living in the bedroom. It’s day one, and I’m already bored silly. There’s a big difference between having a well-deserved break for vacation or winter break, and being forced to stay home. No. Being forced to stay in one room of your home. It’s a little startling how emotionally icky it feels. Your head knows the fact that people aren’t going to be comfortable around you for a while is nothing personal, but your heart. Totally taking it personally. And me being me, well…do I really need to explain? What if I’m sick for weeks? What if I never get better? What if no one ever feels comfortable around me again? What if I ruin a cast mate’s trip to Disney World? What if everyone is mad at me for getting COVID? Maybe COVID is all my fault! Hey, you don’t have to tell me this is nonsense. I’m not stupid. I’m just a little nuts. And now I’m crazy and contagious. It’s all I can do not to apologize to anyone I’ve ever met for…something. I don’t know! Just hang on a minute, something will come to me! Ok. Deep Breath. It’s all fine. Breathe in. Breathe out. Just not in the direction of anyone else.
Life is full of slings and arrows. Today, I found out, quite by accident, that my colleague at work, who was also let go at the start of the pandemic, was hired back in August. Six months. And I had no idea. Let me start by saying, she had been there far longer than me, and had seniority, and I always knew that if and when they hired us back, she would be the first. And let me also add, if I never go back to an office setting, yippee skippy! And my head understands all that, but if I told you my feelings weren’t hurt, I’d be lying. And I’m not sure why. Is it because I’ve spoken with her and my ex-boss, both of whom are good friends, in those six months, and no one said a thing? Is it a personal sling? Is it a “this was a great excuse to let you go” arrow? Or is it simply because it’s become obvious that she wasn’t just the first, she was the only. That there is just no room there for me anymore. And after 10 years no one thought a simple “we’re so sorry, but the business can’t support two of you”, might have been nice. All the secrecy, whether intentional or not, feels a little…crappy. So. I’ve wallowed a little, vented a bit, and shed a few tears, and now it’s time to move on. It feels like I’ve been moving on for two years now and I’m still in the same place. I’m a firm believer in fate and the universe and being in the place your supposed to be, but sometimes that place sucks. I’m 64. I should be thinking about retirement and travel, and freedom. But nope. I’m pondering failure, and struggle and fear. And I wallow, and vent, and cry a little. And I pray. And I thank the universe for all that I do have. And I tell myself that my circumstances don’t dictate my worth. And once in a while, I believe it. There is a reason I am here. There is a purpose I have yet to uncover. And maybe that’s what this time I’ve been blessed with is for, even with the struggle and the fear. My journey continues. It might be like climbing a mountain in high heels, so I guess I’ll kick my shoes off, straighten the lampshade on my head, and keep climbing.