With a flick of my wrist, light shot out of my wand. Just kidding. However, the time illuminated on my FitBit’s display just as magically.
11:05 am.
We were open. From the casual chatter heard over the shrieking of my boss’ playlist, it was likely I was the only one aware. As usual, I’d go to the door to ensure we hadn’t locked out the early birds. Having long since completed my tasks, I’d meander around, trying to look busy until the wave started to hit. While polishing the sneeze guard, I’d hear the thud of the door in the entryway. Everyone on the line would stop to look as I scurried over to turn the music to a reasonable level before greeting our first customer of the day.
“Here we go,” I’d whisper for anyone within earshot. As if anyone had paid attention to me since I walked in the door.
Even the curious and unfamiliar face before me wouldn’t bother to acknowledge my presence right away. However, I’d be fine with that as I soaked up the last few seconds before my bubble of invisibility was popped. And I say “few seconds” because this was when it would always sink in. Fast.
One moment, I’m anxious for the boredom to break and the distraction from time to begin. In the next instant, I’m just anxious. Panicked. Trapped. Tied to this spot and going through the emotionless motions because, for the next three hours, the door would be constantly revolving, the phone ringing, the iPad chirping. All competing for my attention. I’d handle it almost flawlessly, this I knew. At least, from the outsider’s point of view.
Inside, I’d be fighting the urge to flee. Suddenly overwhelmed by how much I did not want to be there. Not sure I could stay, yet unable to move. Would I crack and run out? Would I fall apart right here and finally come unglued in my little corner under the stairs?
I couldn’t fake being happy there. Not any longer. My regulars would comment. My smile and laughter so fake that even I’d cringe. I knew I couldn’t leave because it was not the responsible thing to do- to quit a job without another lined up. Even if I’d be financially fine for a good while. I shamed myself for this thought every day.
Then, the next day would arrive. I was so burned out. Numb. I’d get to the blue trash bin lined alleyway where I’d make that walk of shame, toeing puddles of God-knows-what filling cracks in the uneven pavement. Facing the solid metal door, stained and splattered and thinking that if I go in, that’s it. I’m in. I’m trapped again while the world goes on around me. People, somewhere, somehow were excitedly showing up to their dream jobs. Genuinely happy to be making a contribution.
Creating.
Planning.
Solving.
DOING.
Those people do exist.
Happy.People.Exist.
I had to do it. I had to get out before I couldn’t go in.
Over a month later, it’s honestly one of the best decisions I’ve made for myself. No, I haven’t found anything yet. I started this blog, though. My diabetes is in far better control. I’m exercising regularly and am consistently happier than I have been for quite some time.
However, it all seems to matter little. Because I’m taking advantage of this gift of time to determine what’s really next. After the last year, I’ll admit to living on the edge of fear. Afraid I’ll fall back into another trap of watching the minutes tick by until my escape is granted by another being. I’ve been healing through the shame I felt working a job like that (asking people if they want fries with that, I mean) and the guilt for leaving it without a plan. I’m moving slowly and not jumping into action but contemplating the possibilities.
Oh, puh-lease! It’s part of life. It’s growing up. Be an adult. Suck it up.
No. When it comes to mental health, one doesn’t “suck it up.” One also should never instruct others to “suck it up.” If you’ve witnessed the news as of late, you know what happens to those who take those words seriously.
People think fuck is a foul word. I think “suck it up” is worse.
I’m aware of what the choices I have made/ am making look like from the outside. I also know what the healing feels like on the inside. And, I wish more people knew how that felt. I wish more people didn’t settle and that they chose to fight for themselves instead.
As Brené Brown put it in her book (and my current fave of hers) Braving the Wilderness, I’m choosing to stand in the wilderness. Because I trust myself and I trust timing and I know I’ll get to where I’m supposed to be. Quite often, I feel limited by my anxiety. Scrolling through job descriptions and flooded with cold panic which paralyzes me from even applying. But, I’m learning to listen and allow it to guide me away from what’s not meant for me.
It doesn’t bother me that you might think I’m a lazy and entitled millennial. That you think I’m not trying or that my fears are absurd. I stand in the wilderness because I owe it to myself.
I’m going to end this now, with a quote from Jen Hatmaker, a friend of Brené’s, which she included at the end of the book previously mentioned:
But, I’ve discovered something beautiful; the loneliest steps are the ones between the city walls and the heart of the wilderness, where safety is in the rearview mirror, new territory remains to be seen, and the path out to the unknown seems empty. But you put one foot in front of the other enough times, stay the course long enough to actually tunnel into the wilderness, and you’ll be shocked how many people already live out there – thriving, dancing, creating, celebrating, belonging. It is not a barren wasteland. It is not unprotected territory. It is not void of human flourishing. The wilderness is where all the creatives and prophets and system-buckers and risk-takers have always lived, and it is stunningly vibrant. The walk out there is hard but the authenticity out there is life. -Jen Hatmaker, via Brené Brown, Braving the Wilderness
If you need me, I’ll be in the wilderness where the happy people are.
trainliktaylor@gmail.com
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