Sometimes, suicidal ideation follows me home like a lost puppy, though it’s less like a cute “aww let’s adopt it!” puppy and more like some sort of mutant puppy creature from a 90’s comic book, that latched onto my leg with its grungy gangrenous little teeth and won’t let go, and it is slowly poisoning me with its radioactivity or something. I don’t even get cool mutant powers out of the deal. I just get tired and frail and brittle and cry at things that most people shrug off, but to me are suddenly gigantic crises. It isn’t quite as hard for me to put myself into my clients’ shoes when they are in crisis mode, because I’m often there, too, with that stupid mutant crisis puppy dug into my calf and dragging along behind me.
I got a new job, which will be netting me quite a bit more money and marginally better insurance (a $2000 deductible is easier to swallow than a $5000 one, especially when I’ll start out making an extra $6000 a year…) This is what I wanted, but dreaded. I’ve been alternately thrilled and unable to stop grinning, and also crying and wondering if I can possibly even survive the change. I’d finally kicked off the January puppy, and here the new job puppy came along, slavering along behind me, ready to take a great big bite out of my leg. I turned in my official resignation today, and will start my new job on April 4th. It’s breaking my heart, but I had to- I couldn’t afford another year of that insurance. I’ve only told three of my clients so far, and telling the rest of my caseload is not going to be easy. I know I’m going to cry right along with some of my clients.
I’m excited, but so very nervous, and scared. I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle working at a new job, having to learn a new caseload’s worth of idiosyncrasies, a new team and supervisor’s individual strengths and assets, and all of the area resources, as I’ll be working in a different county and haven’t got a clue about anything out there. That insidious little voice is telling me that I’m going to fail, and that the grungy mutant crisis puppies are going to eat me alive. (I’m imagining a bunch of piranha-pups, now, that look a bit like Sharky the Sharkdog. This analogy keeps getting weirder. Maybe I should write my blog posts at a reasonable time of day, and then I won’t be quite so strange?)
My team is sad to see me go, and I’ve received a lot of congratulations and have been told repeatedly that I’ll be missed. One coworker asked me what she’ll do without my knowledge of resources and overall eccentricity. I like having a legacy of eccentricity. It’s a lot better than being known as “that crazy bitch that used to work here.” Besides, if I wasn’t eccentric, I never would’ve thought of an analogy that featured grungy mutant crisis puppies, and the world would be less colorful without such a strange metaphor.
…Yes, I’m in a strange mood. Time for bed…