All's Well That Ends Well

I was so busy up on my soapbox yesterday that I neglected to celebrate my last day of work at the bakery with you!

I really don't have much to report, other than to say that despite the issues I have with the way they run that place and the fact that making minimum wage is depressing at my age, it wasn't a terrible job. In six short weeks, I actually met some people that I like and might even keep in touch with - the most likely being Reality Bites (whose name I am now changing to "Coffee Girl," after that Tragically Hip song). 

But in a happy ending of sorts, Coffee Girl is moments away from getting a new job, Still a Teenager already quit, and I was able to write my assistant manager a letter of reference for her husband, who worked at the bakery until his wife was promoted and is now still looking for work (she is giving it to the manager to sign and asked me to write it because, in her words, my English is so good). Plus, I came home with a box full of goodies. 

On Monday, I will reprise my role as a cubicle hamster. This weekend, I will enjoy having a mind free of strategy. 

P.S. It's still Autism Awareness Month, so I'd like to refer you to this article, which summarizes all 10 of the "Ten Things Every Child with Autism Wishes You Knew."

Burning Desire

Today brought the realization of two things I've been anticipating for a little while now:

1) The doctor (mostly) confirmed that I have an ulcer. Or, at least that's his best guess. He did casually ask, "There's no history of stomach cancer in your family, right?" Uh, I really hope not since the only test you've performed was to push on my abdomen for 10 seconds. So I'm on the Prilosec for four weeks to see if the constant punched-in-the-gut feeling subsides. I was hoping he'd prescribe a distant boarding school for a certain 16-year-old...no luck. At least now all my whining about the proverbial ulcer I was getting turns out to be legit.

2) I quit my job...the leave-the-house one. When I left work last week, I didn't know I was going to do it. I mean, I knew I'd quit someday, but not today. But then I had a bit of an epiphany over the weekend. It was the combined effect of a tidal wave of well-paying freelance work and my therapist calling me on the fact that my fear of failure causes me to throw obstacles in front of the things I want in life. You see, it's easy to justify not having time to even attempt to write that ever-elusive book if I'm busying myself with a job at a non-profit, a steady stream of freelance work and the raising of my children. Nevermind the Judy Blume-types who spend each free second of their day holed up at a keyboard, making their dreams come true...my fear wins out every time.

I want to note here that although this was a good move personally, quitting this job was not fun. There was no sense of triumph like when I left corporate America. I really like my co-workers (and I really like having co-workers) and I feel like I'm jumping ship at a very inopportune time for them. Normally, I would have let this guilt pressure me into staying several more months - not today. It was hard and I felt really bad about it, but I did it and they were sad but understanding.

So here I am. A hole burning in my stomach and a vast landscape of untouched ambition sprawled out ahead of me. There is a long journey ahead...I'm bringing a lot of Tums.