Friday, October 19, 2018


You know that feeling you get...excitement, anxiety, anticipation....when someone is slowly turning the crank of a jack in the box?  You know what's coming, but even though you're ready for it, you're not ready for it when it happens.  When the top pops open and monkey/clown/princess jumps out.  It startles you every time, but then you smile, and stuff it back in and the whole things starts over again.  
Tinny music dink
                                            dinks along... and you just know that on the next turn its coming and you're'll get the jump, and happens again, but not at quite the spot you were preparing yourself for.

Well, that was today.  That was 9:47 today.  And I had prepared myself for sometime closer to 9:55.  And I wasn't quite ready.  Fuck.

So let's rewind....

I've gone and done this thing that some people would call brave.  I have resigned from my job.  A job that I love.  A job that I am good at.  A job that has given me the rare privilege for the last 10 years to be in the same space with people who are discovering how amazing they can be when they believe in themselves and they do hard things and they learn to love themselves as they are, even as they pursue making themselves into something new.  And it has been hard.  Even though I know it's right and it's good and it's time.  It has been really, really hard.

In a very controlled way, a little at a time I have been saying goodbye to colleagues and friends and members that have been attending my meetings for years.  I've made the announcement many times in the last few weeks.  Starting with my husband so many weeks ago with a teary, vulnerable phone call that felt like a mix between admitting defeat and declaring my independence and ending this morning with my final announcement, it was like that tiny, slow cranking of the jack in the box.  I knew what was coming and it felt good to get it out, but it hit me in a different place each time.  This morning, an unsuspecting woman in a pink t-shirt was talking about being stuck.  She was thoughtfully explaining how fitting back into her 'skinny clothes' wasn't good enough.  Not anymore.  Good enough wasn't good enough anymore.  And her words hit me when I wasn't ready.

How I managed to hold it together for another 6 minutes until I could deliver my carefully thought out departure announcement I honestly do not know.  But I did.  And it was all of things things I hoped it would be when I saved this meeting for last.

Because that's just it, isn't it?  That's the shift.  That's what I'm realizing as I challenge myself to not be stuck with good enough.  I can be happy and sad at the same time.  Ready doesn't mean I'm entirely prepared and being fearless doesn't mean I'm not scared to death.  Things can be hard and good at the same time.