It's been 2 weeks shy of 3 months since I walked away from the lab. I haven't really thought about it all that much. There is still a sadness about it. A biggish hole in my chest and in my head that used to help me know who I was. Without that I am kinda struggling to figure that out. Too many days spent watching TV and numbing out so that the question would stop asking itself or at least get quiet enough so I could see what the Simmons family is up to. (Could be worse. Could be the Kardashians).
Today I had to dig around in the severance paperwork for some insurance information. They were still down in the basement, sealed in the moving boxes where they have been since November. Those documents make me feel horrible. The way I imagine Robt E. Lee felt every time he saw Appamatox Courthouse. Made me feel that despite my best efforts, despite all the time and energy I gave to it, I still failed. Those boxes are a little cardboard monument to my failure.
I understand all the new-agey stuff some of you are thinking - that greatness is born out of failure. I get that something else is coming. But with no notion of what that might be, no passion driving me in any direction I am just circling mindlessly - and I HATE it.
I hate having nothing to do. Or having so much to do that it is incapacitating. It is an oxymoron of the finest kind. I have never had the time to do anything more than squeak out what needs done before it was back to work. I am used to knowing what needs done and doing it. But I can't seem to figure out what needs to be done? Nothing NEEDS to be done. There is plenty of time to get it all done. So nothing gets done.
AAAGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!! Today is the pivot point in my six months. The next three are going to be different even if it means I have to chuck the TV out the window.