Learning to live again

It's been about a month since I last worked what I would venture to call one of the most difficult jobs one could acquire. Relieved? Yes, yes I am. Sad? That, too. In all the excitement, disorganization, and stress of the holiday and going to see my family then moving shortly thereafter, I've not stopped long enough to "process" my experience. (Damn processing, and damn "suws-ing" myself.)

Working in wilderness therapy is almost as difficult as no longer working in wilderness therapy. I say "working" but what I really mean mean is devoted, strained, loved, hated, by which I was inspired , and by which I was finally exhausted. It is not a job. The average person who shows up to a job is there to do menial work (that they probably don't enjoy all that much anyway), collect what is due to them and go home. The average person doesn't work there, rather the exceptional person. Yes, I got the job partially because it would help pay the bills, but I ended up getting so much more than that.

When I made the decision to leave, I never imagined it would be so difficult to transition into "normal" life again. On occasion I jokingly think it would make sense to have exit therapy available to employees in addition to the benefit for current employees. I find I'm having to take a deep breath and remind myself that this is just another transition that's going to be hard for awhile.

Having spent the past 20 months working 8 days on/6 days off, I've been forced to learn how to live as a "normal" person (in a relationship, which complicated things) whilst living in the "real world" for only 12 days a month. I was a 12-day-a-month girlfriend, a 12-day-a-month citizen, sister, daughter, granddaughter. Every facet of myself that existed outside of work only had 12 days to function somewhat normally. Instead of 6 days of rest in my off-time I found myself pressured to cram everything into 6 very short days. I squashed my creativity for being on time and the completion of menial tasks like laundry, cleaning, getting myself organized again. I was a person who was only partially present most of the time both at work at at home. Toward the termination of my employment it seemed as though I didn't really want to be either place but somewhere in a fantasy inbetween. Weekend trainings for CFR and WFR sent me into tailspins, especially because during those times I couldn't give enough time to me or my partner. Yet somehow I made it work. I learned to maximize every minute, to take multitasking to the next level. And I had a load of support from my ever-striving-to-understand girlfriend who could have seen our relationship as a constant battle for attention and time and called it off at any point. But there she stood.

Life with what seems to be like all the time in the world is quite different by comparison with the aforementioned cramming and chaos. I have a lot of time: to think, to lie around, to create, to do something other than constantly clean and organize. Kelly has had to remind me on several occasions that I don't need to cram and cram and cram and go a thousand miles per hour. It sounds nice, but this is a lot more difficult than it sounds for this type A personality. ha. It's hard to let myself relax without feeling guilty or like a sluggard. In all truth, I should enjoy this while it lasts, especially with class and work starting soon.

Take a deep breath. Relax. Learn to live again.