Saturday, February 9, 2019
I was working from home because when I went outside at dark-thirty to get in the car, half the drive was dry, half was a sheet of ice, and the forecast wasn't promising. I decided driving downtown wasn't worth the risk of sliding on the ice, and went back inside to plug in and get to work.
I took advantage of a quiet part of my day to call my friends who had been so rudely let go. They were already starting to move on; looking at open positions, contacting recruiters. It helped to hear their voices, to know they were OK, to get to say the goodbyes I hadn't been able to say last week. We traded emails; they promised to keep me posted. And I was finally able to begin to let go of what happened.
I have to admit I was grateful for the ice storm that swept in Wednesday night. The depth of the ice was highly variable across the region, but my neighborhood got hit pretty hard. After the temp had dropped below freezing, it managed to rain enough to form a nice 1/2 layer of ice, which gave the following sleet a nice base to stick to. We ended up with over an inch of ice on the ground. Only one guy even tried to get into the office on Thursday morning. Three days later, I've finally gotten the driveway clear enough to be able to leave. Just in time for more snow to come by tonight. (We seem to be at the edge of a persistent weather pattern. It shifts north a tad, temps go up into the 40's. South, and we're in the 20's with freezing rain. *sigh*)
I enjoyed the chance to work from home Thursday and Friday. I especially enjoyed the part where the ice didn't bring down the power in my neighborhood at all - for reasons best known to itself, it didn't stick to the trees much at all. (I was a little worried, given my experience in mid-January.) So there I was - warm, lots of hot tea, and no distractions as my mind finally let go of enough outrage for me to focus on business and the project of the week. Good, bad or ugly, I needed to start to move on.
All of this angst has not helped with my annual battle with the February blues. The days are longer, but not much. The trees are still deeply asleep, spring seems far away.
Remember to breathe, I tell myself. This, too, shall pass. I've been looking for the beauty in each day, and sure as sunrise, I find it. A child giggling in front of me in line at Costco. The oranges and pinks of the morning sky. The taste and smell of my morning latte. Hot showers on cold mornings.
I remember a conversation I had several times with Libby: Today is the only day we have; try to live it well.
I'm doing my best. anyways.