Day 2 - 1 personal day

I ritually prepared myself for my forced 16 day retreat (that is, 16 days without a partner) by killing 3 spiders. Large spiders. Spiders, half as big as dimes, who when they fall from the ceiling, made a discernible sound ("pap"). I've never before seen a spider fall down...it must have been that extra gloss-high coat that tripped them up.

Anyway, I suppose killing the spiders was a test...of my strength. Of my ability to stop focusing on the sickening crawliness of a spider that must be squashed...of changing focus from the fact that I am alone here and not on vacation (with 4 puking animals ) for the next two weeks...and focus on the gift that is time uncoupled from coupledom. Who will I be? Will I surprise myself?

Now that I'm alone, what do I know, so far?

• I love unbaked oatmeal cookies and espresso.
• If you feed the cats first thing in the morning, they'll mostly leave you alone.
• The dog, bless his old heart, will sleep all day, if given enough treats, pee breaks and a short, steep walk down the hill to get the mail or the paper.
  
• It takes me a day or so to get settled into my writing voice.
• Television holds almost no appeal, except right before bed.
• I don't miss talking to anyone --yet.
• I prefer being in my office because I've got the light just right in there.
  
• The house has devolved into messiness fairly quickly (I'm going to try to right that ship this evening.).
• Writing, when done after this much silence, is a benediction.

I wish I didn't have to go to work tomorrow or at least not for all 10 hours of it. Oh well, money and all that...

Notes on changing my name

First, let me say, I’ve changed my name more than once…and each has been a transformative moment…I haven’t regretted leaving the old public image behind and trying on the new gal’s clothes. Now, after completing my first nuptials, I’m planning on changing my name yet again.
Why?

• To claim my place as an adult. My other name changes had to do with my family’s divorces and remarriages, the remnants of my childhood. This name I’m taking on is my partner’s name. We actually picked out this surname for her in response to an identity theft incursion. Now, I’ll join her and we’ll start a new branch in our 21st century family tree.

• I love beginnings. And isn’t what the threshold of marriage is all about? All last year I yearned for a certain elusive quality of newness. I was able to achieve some change by a shift in my career but I still want more pioneering elements to bring a discreetly different perspective. A name change creates a refreshed persona and I’m deliciously anticipating the ripples this additional development will bring.

• And lastly, rather surprisingly actually, I want to change my name as another affirmative step in my desire to set and accomplish goals and objectives in my life. If left to my own devices, I’ve more of an inert personality, less likely to change things if the pot isn’t boiling over. Assertive action has typically brought me beneficial results. And so I go forth eager to complete this task I’ve set for myself.

It’ll take a couple of weeks for me to get all the paperwork completed. I’ll let you know how it turns out.

If at first you don't succeed, keep trying

My sister (whom I love dearly) is a high-level management type at a Fortune 100 company. She makes a lot of money, has traveled much of the world in first class and regularly rewards herself with expensive jewelry, clothing and furniture. She brash, iconoclastic, popular…the picture of success and she’s done it mostly on the strength of her sharp personality and work ethic. She loves her company (warts and all) and loves her work. Pretty impressive for someone without a college degree!

I on the other hand went to college, a pretty decent one on the west coast, and ended up in civil service and have slowly been building a pension for the last 17 years. I have also traveled extensively but on the cheap. I regularly reward myself by eating high caloric meals or purchasing books on Amazon. My more modest achievements were accomplished through a very low-key, intelligent but empathic personality. People love talking to me and I've always had a knack for making someone feel good about themselves.

I’m also a hard worker-verging on workaholic- but only when the situation calls for it. I hate my company and my work, I’m chronically sick on the job and I’m finding it exceedingly difficult to maintain my low-key, people-pleasing outlook. A pretty bad situation for anyone, college degree or not.

I don’t recount this story to you just so that I can whine (although, I did get a good whine in). I also use it to illustrate my belief that passionate people tend to succeed while those who turn away from the hard work required of their passion tend to whither. This is classic example of not listening to the melody of our master numbers, interpreting the insistent refrains to take important risks as so much static.

I’ve been a poster child for this kind of wrong-headed thinking. I always wanted to write (technical writing, essays, columns, etc.) but felt it would lead me down the path toward bag lady-dom. Thus…

• I didn’t feel especially passionate at college and had no real plan when I finished.
• I didn’t feel especially passionate when I got my first jobs. I was just happy to have a position that had benefits and a pension.
• I boomeranged between several different types of work at the same agency with no real commitment. As soon as I found I the work insufferable, I bounced to another department…but the intervals between when the work was tolerable and when I detested it became shorter and shorter. There was virtually no honeymoon when I started my current job. I hated it the first day. I also lost hearing in one of my ears my second week on the job. It hasn’t returned yet.
  
• I no longer even feel well enough to have casual conversations with people at work ( which were more like professional listening-- can you tell I'm an INFP???)...these seemingly innocuous conversations were my way of networking and staying connected to the hiring powers that be. Instead, I cough alot and appear tired and edgy. Definitely not an asset.
  

I’m fairly confident I’m not the only one who’s done this in their lives…moving through it like it didn’t matter. I’m lucky though. I’ve finally figured out that it DOES matter. And that the hard stuff of working up to our potential must be done sooner or later…but it can’t be denied.