My last week at the old job.
The pain and self-flagellation from the embarassing thing is fading. Odd dreams are increasing, one every night. I feel unsafe but also that this river is flowing and I just need to ride the current for a while.
I can't believe I'm leaving. I crave absolution from the top person at work, and I know that he just doesn't work like that. I can't tell if he's annoyed I'm leaving, happy, or if it doesn't even register either way.
No more too-hot stuff office, no more dim hallway to the pink bathroom, no more this and that. I hope it's no more feeling silenced. I find I am grieving. Grieving just simply because change is hard, but also because I am going over in my head the parts of this place that were good and the parts that were painful. And silencing. I ask myself if I am naturally this meek or if this place made me this way.
Going to a new place is a grand experiment to see if I can get my voice back. To see who I will be.
In my week off I want to do things I haven't done in years, like read poetry in a coffee shop, eat healthy planned-out meals, and make loose tea the slow way.
It feels amazing to throw out (recycle) old files at work. I hope I like where I'm headed. I used to believe I could do anything and that I was the hardest worker around. If I can find a piece of that again I'll be OK.