Work From Home

Spring - Harriman Ranch, WY

While I like the people I work with, I don't care for the physical office where we work. It's a large beige room, filled with rows of cubicles. It's on the 25th floor of the building, but any beautiful views are reserved for the managers - a row of office doors block the windows from the sight of the worker bees like me.

This aspect of work has been hard for me; for the first few months after I started, I felt a physical yearning for views of the sky. It's been an unwelcome disconnect from nature. Winter, warmth, clear, stormy, spring, cold - all are alike when I am cocooned in my world of bland beigeness.

Then, last week, I was granted an unexpected reprieve. It's an open secret that my company is not on the firmest of financial footings, and raises are not an option. In an attempt to offer something to their people in lieu of money, my department has decided to let us, if we choose, to work from home four days a week, starting next week.

I used to work from home, I liked it. I still got my work done, but enjoyed the freedom of the extra hour I gained by not commuting to the office. As they were announcing the new policy my face must have been an open book, because the gal behind me said, 'Take a picture of Janice and post it in her cube. We'll never see her again.'

Part of me wanted to protest that, no, I was happy to come into the office, but my efforts would have fallen flat - it's simply not true. I am grateful to have a job, but my work is largely solitary by nature, so there are days I go into work and say very little to the people around me because we're all absorbed in our respective tasks.

Working from home, I will be able to reconnect with the weather; my home office looks out into the back yard and I'll be able to watch my garden change day by day. I'll be able to reconnect with some of my friends - the downtown location of my office makes it difficult to be able to pop out to meet anyone for lunch unless they're also downtown. It'll be easier to schedule in the furnace / fridge/ etc repair people. I won't have to fight traffic. Heck, I'll be able to pop out to the grocery store at lunchtime and not have to contend with the after work rush.

I will need to figure out a way to get in my daily workout. There is a small gym in my office building, and I've been going down each day just before lunch for thirty minutes to get in a quick workout. I have a weight room set up in my basement, but if my fingers aren't freezing from sitting at my desk for too long, if my eyes aren't aching for a break from the dull surroundings, I don't know my effortless motivation will still be there.

But that's the only downside that comes to mind, and I'm sure I can work through it.  I'll still be able to connect with my coworkers in person - we've picked one day each week we'll all come on in. I can't wait to give this a try.

Free Weekend

This weekend, for the first time in a long time, my calendar was blank. No commitments to anyone but myself. It's been lovely, and I've had my ever-present list of chores to keep my hands busy, but it's been...  awfully quiet.

It's been a long time since the only energy in the house was my own. It's a big adjustment, I rather like it. But would I like it if (when!) mine was the only energy around for days on end? I've been thinking about retiring sooner rather than later - how will it be when I don't have the distraction of the office to pull me out of my nest?

Hmmmm... The last time I spent days and days in my own company, I also had the changing scenery through the windshield of the camper van to hold my interest. I had new people in the campground each night to watch. (People watching in campgrounds is an entertaining sport...)

While it's tempting to think I'll be happy curled up in a corner with my assorted projects and books for days on end, something tells me that, too, will get old. If I'm going to retire, and I am, I can see I'm going to have to spend some time coming up with ways to intentionally connect with people. Fortunately for my need for human contact, there are a lot of ways for me to connect where I live right now.

I can take art classes. I can sign up for yoga. I can volunteer to read to young children. I can walk in the park and watch for the black man with the beautiful smile who often happens to be walking in the opposite direction when I get out. I can reach out to my collection of friends for coffee, lunch and dinner dates.

This weekend has put an abrupt halt to any stray thoughts I might have had of getting myself a place in the country. (I've harbored this dream for years - to have a secluded place like my sister Libby's - where when you look out the window, there are no other houses or people; just deer and trees.) While part of me would love it, I'm afraid my natural tendency to turn inwards would lead to a destructive spiral. I'm afraid I'd end up being the crazy old cat lady with a shotgun at the ready, going into town only for vital sustenance and avoiding all eye contact when I did prod myself into making the trip.

Perhaps I'm jumping the gun here. How can I know what I'll want to do when my time is free when I've never tried it? Something is holding me back from trying to plan my how my days will look when my days are no longer planned by outside forces. Maybe that something is right. Maybe I need to sit in the empty space of some days before I can begin to know how to best fill those days.

Maybe instead of making choices about how I'm going to spend the days to come, I could come up with lists of options. That way, after I've turned in my key card and gotten past the first rush of celebration that I (again!) didn't have to set an alarm to haul me out of bed in the morning, I can look at the list and choose what I'd like to do that day - or looking at the list will spur me to choose something I hadn't thought of doing before (volunteering at the animal shelter?)

When I'm not afraid I'll hate spending time in my own company, I'm liking the liminal space where I've been spending my days. My world, it will be changing yet again - but this time, for the first time since I jumped into my camper van, I will be driving the change, not reacting to it. (I hope!) It's a good feeling, it carries a whiff of freedom on its breath. I liked being free last time I tried it, maybe... maybe... I'll get the chance to try it again.

Possibilities Are!

Itchy Feet

Harriman Ranch, Granite, WY

There's just something about Colorado - the mountains, the sky, the air.

Recently, there's a pattern to my visits to the state. I go, have a lovely time, come home, and open up the real estate listings - for the entire state. I don't need outside advice to tell me this is a lousy idea from the get-go. I have no idea where I'd want to live in Colorado, but know enough to know I don't even know what questions I'd need to ask to get myself landed in a place I'd be happy. (If you can sort through that sentence, you get bonus points...)

I don't suppose I really want to leave my family in friends in Kansas City behind. There are reasons why I landed back here when I got cancer. There are good people everywhere in this country, but it takes time to find 'your people' - the people who get you; the ones who will have your back in times of trouble, who will give you a hand up when you're down. 

But still, I feel the call.

I get it. There's been a lot of pain in my life in recent years; many months of struggle as I work to regain my balance. These are hard times to get through, and I've firmly established long ago that I don't like to do hard things. Somewhere in my head, moving to Colorado would be like my camper van experience - packing up my kit bag to leave all of my troubles behind as I stop and breathe and take in the beauty of the world.

Yes, I have equity in my house. Yes, it's tempting to sell it, take the money and run. Run fast, run far.

Sadly, the voice of experience tells me this wouldn't work. I got away with it in the camper van, but only because my adventure had a limited scope. Sure as sunrise, when I landed, all the problems I had run away from came back to settle around my feet and wait patiently (or not so patiently) to be dealt with. Running away from the hard feelings doesn't work. Even when I'd really, really like it to.

**sigh**

Time to close the real estate listings and keep on keepin' on with the life I have. It's a good life; there is beauty in all of the days I have. The day will come when I will have more free time again. I'll have time to travel, to drink in the beauty of the outdoors. And if I listen to the voice of reason, I'll also have a place to come home to.

There's a lot to be said for having a home base.

Web of WIsdom

Harriman Ranch, Granite, WY

I just got back from a wonderful few days in southern Wyoming.  This is the fifth time I've gone to a Web of Wisdom (women's) retreat since I first met up with these ladies in 2004 or thereabouts.  This time, it was Kate who pulled me to the workshop - she's been curious about my hard-to-describe experiences for a few years; this is the first year she's been able to attend.

We met up with two of the other participants at the Denver airport last Thursday, picked up the car the leaders had left in the lot with a hide-a-key to let us in, and headed north.  The retreat was at the same ranch where it was held two years ago, but this time the weather cooperated.  In 2017, I drove up in a snowstorm.  This year, it was in the upper 50's and sunny.

In Kansas City, the upper 50's are chilly; as I stepped from the car, it was a pleasant surprise to be reminded that drier air is crisp instead of clammy at that temperature.  My feet touched the dirt, I felt my shoulders drop from my ears and my breath unwind - my body has good memories from retreats past.  It was finally time to stop and breathe for a bit.

There was time to learn (or, in my case, relearn) the tools created by Virginia Satir to help us understand our family systems.  There was time to wander the quiet fields of the ranch; time to .
seek out the shy blooms of the first spring flowers.  Time to reconnect with friends from retreats past, time to talk with and begin to get to know the newcomers.  Time to help prepare the carefully chosen and delicious vegetarian meals, and to laugh in the kitchen with the cleanup crew.  Time for catch-up conversations with Kate - dang, but I miss that no-longer-a child of mine.

My tired soul welcomed the change of pace.  For a few days, I cared not at all about the state of politics in this country, nor about the daily concerns of my job.  I left my phone on airplane mode; used the internet only to scan my emails for the few items that actually needed my attention.

Stop.  Breathe.  Relax.
It's  good advice - I should pay attention to it more often!