Fait Accompli

I can't believe I did this. I quit my job. I really did it. I quit.

I sent a letter of resignation to a boss I barely know.  I have been on his team almost two weeks; he has yet to say hello.

In a long laundry list of last straws, this is near the top.  Enough is enough.

Define "enough". Plenty.  Satisfied.  Fulfilled a need. Enough.

This week, I have driven enough miles, spent enough time lost.  I have smiled at one too many people, sold one too many cases, nearly run off I-80 one too many times.  I have been alone when I needed a hug and listened to hundreds of songs and talking heads.  Enough.

My paycheck should be taking us out to dinner occasionally; instead, it is back into the gas tank.  I notice the attendant drives a Cadillac.  I drive a Chevy.  Enough.

So, I wrote the still-unacknowledged letter of resignation--and I quit.

No, I don't have another job; well, I do, but it's only a few hours a week.  I'll get one.

I had to weigh it all.  I am tired, sleepy-eyed, snappy and drunk on caffeine much of the time.  I get impatient with spouse, dog and grandkids.  My sons have escaped most of the torture because I hardly see them. Their girls text me instead of calling, I'm sure to avoid my railing them about something. My friends?  They talk to me on Facebook or in church where I am safe to be around.  One went to Florida to avoid my scathing commentary (no, really, she went to see her kids...at least she said so....) and another is so distant we might live in separate worlds.  It might be my imagination...but by the time I get home, I am so needy.  It's driving them away.

The Y is no longer my refuge...I am usually too tired to go.

I thought I could do anything for another one year, seven months and 25 days.  I was wrong.  I can't.  I quit.

The story of my life; I begin and don't finish.  Well, you're wrong.  I AM FINISHED. Done. Fini. Kaput.

I am going to find a nice little job as a cashier, or stock clerk, or maybe driving little old ladies around town.  I will get lost occasionally to amuse them.  I will drop things when they do, to show it happens to everybody.  The gas man will forget my name.  I will go quietly into retirement where I will be relaxed and stress-less.

There are enough things in my life that I can never expect to happen. Quitting the job was one of them, but if I have the courage to do this, well, maybe I can find the courage for those other "never will happens".

Meanwhile, we will manage.  We won't starve.  We will get behind, perhaps, then we will catch up.

And thanks, Carolyn S. for this:

"And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud became more painful than the risk it took to blossom."--Annais Nin

I AM READY TO BLOSSOM!