It's no secret that I'm a self-proclaimed work-a-holic. I even wrote a book about it: Diary of an Unemployed Workaholic. But, I never thought that I would ever need to write a sequel.
I have spent four years with an amazing organization. There have been ups. There have been downs. But, I think the worst part of my job is where it brought my family so many years ago. We loved where we lived, in the Heart of America. I uprooted my family to move North to a state with the worst economy and the most instability when it comes to growth and fortune.
But, I have to say, I have loved my job. I've even grown to love the state of despair. The state featured in every Michael Moore, Eminem and Kid Rock video to help boost tourism. Why? Because it was the first time I moved away. I mean, really moved away.
When I went off to college. I went with big dreams and aspirations and no desire to look back. I got out, relatively unscathed. I now had my future ahead of me and nothing could stop me. I would make a name for myself and be the most successful person I could be - on my own.
And I did.
I met great people. I met stupid people. I met best friends and I met enemies. But, I did it on my own. With no help.
You can ask any of my college friends (especially the one who became my best man at my wedding) that I took getting ahead and using my brains so seriously, that while they all wanted to go to the bars, I chose to work at a bar to pay my way through school. And during finals, while they all wanted to play pool and de-stress, I brought my notes and books to the pool hall to study while they had fun.
I'm not a party pooper. In fact, I like a good happy hour. However, I stress out more when I know there is work to be done and I'm not doing it, than when I'm in the thick of the chaos navigating my way (and my company's way) to safe shores.
But I got out when I went to college and I made a name for myself and made myself proud. Today, I know that I got out when I needed to and I have made a name for myself. A name that embodies loyalty and devotion to an organization that I truly and firmly believe in.
My last official day with the Red Cross in Michigan was this week. While I'm glad to be finally going home to a great city in the Midwest and I'm FINALLY able to see my husband, child and two doggies, I am sad. I am nervous and anxious.
Just like an abused child, who balks and screams for the parents who abuse him/her, I am nervous to leave the main identity I have known for four years. I miss the norm my family and I created on our own. I am anxious for the new norm that awaits me.
My time at my job was fortuitous. While I got threats, migraines, stress-induced illnesses, I knew and will always know I did my job. I did a good job. That defined me. I felt my organization needed me. But as I leave, after vetting out my replacement and agreeing to train him, I feel sad. Four years - gone.
What awaits me is a mystery. Many find that exciting. I find that unnerving. It messes with my Type A personality of always wanting and needing a plan. What is my plan?
I've discovered in my time away from my husband, little boy, and four-legged kiddos that the plan will come. The unexpected may be welcomed. A plan needs to be flexible. I've always firmly believed that in the workplace, now I need to apply it to the home front.
My number one priority is getting back to my norm with my family. I miss them. I love them. The job will come, but the family has been there, patiently waiting for me and for that I will always be grateful!
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