Long strides

When I was asked to come for an interview in Boulder, I didn't ask questions, I just booked my ticket and came. The five days leading up to my appointment were filled with anxiety. The only way I could soothe myself was to think that I was surely qualified for the position and that soon I would be notifying my boss that a better opportunity had come along.

That didn't quite pan out. The meeting was great; I am such a fan of the work that art therapists do with families and children, and this center is no exception. However, I learned that I am overqualified for the job, and that had I already moved in and formed a network in Boulder I would be more desirable for this position. I was given a full hour of the director's time and she sent me off with a good luck. I know I'll return to volunteer at some point, but I'm not expecting anything more.

Now, the real magic. Since I would be driving through Denver on my way to Boulder, I requested a meeting with a woman who runs a paper conservation lab. She responded coolly but nevertheless I was thrilled to be allowed a peek. I arrived early, casually parked the car in front of the building, and helped myself to a coffee next door. I could already feel myself easing into this fantasy of starting a new career in this historic section of town, in this old crumbly building that oozes with character.

Beth greeted me warmly, and appeared more relaxed than in her photo. She showed me into the library, where we talked about techniques, experiences, career paths. She described her earlier career in art therapy, and wished me luck with my upcoming interview. As she showed me out, I reveled at the ping pong table she converted into a portable work station, covered with folders containing artwork exactly like I pull every day to work on. In the course of talking about fellow conservators, she left me with numerous names of people who would be happy to speak with me about my aspirations. And what's more is that she recommended creating a business identity of my own, so that others could hire me as a subcontractor. This was something I had fantasized about but never fleshed out fully, assuming that getting set up on my own would be too big a burden. But to my surprise, Beth informed me that setting up a business is relatively cheap and easy in Colorado.

This was a bombshell. I know that my brother set himself up this way to do web design, and that everyone who has pulled this off says it's the only way to go. I'm in the best position now to make this work, and I even have names of conservators to align myself with. All that's left is doing the work. It's so simple.

I can't help but notice all the self reliant women here who are doing the work, making a life here like pioneer folk, blazing trails and helping others along so they can experience all there is to enjoy when you set your sights high. It's crazy but I'm starting to feel like I'm being reborn as the mature self I always wished I would become.

Good night, bike. Good night, mixer. Good night, moon (-shaped led light).

As I sipped a long-pour of vodka and soda, I listed some things on the facebook garage sale site. I didn't expect it to get so much attention! I woke up to a dozen messages, people wanting appliances, tables, shelves, bikes. One by one I scheduled pick ups, and now I'm about $150 richer. And mourning the loss of my precious stuff. Trying now to take a few moments to think of how my stuff will give others pleasure as it did for me.

The bike, though. That was my form of transportation when I was carless in the late 90's. I spent every evening on the lakefront riding further and further from my home base, till I was able to do the 30-mile Bike the Drive. One summer I logged 1000 miles riding to and from my job in the south Loop. Then, after handing the car over to my ex in the divorce and before selling our home, I rode 15 miles from Rogers Park to my parents' home in Mount Prospect, in a symbolic act of strength in the face of sadness. I listened to Bon Iver and Of Monsters and Men as I made my way west, reversing the trip I had made so many years earlier to settle in the big bad city. It was a pattern I would repeat for the next 3 years, visiting my old haunts for a sense of closure. I took up running and made destinations out of schools I had attended, parks and pools where I'd spent my younger years, the filthy bar where I'd shared my misery with grown-up childhood friends, and homes where I had had my first sleepovers, make out sessions, babysitting gigs, piano lessons. I had a rich and rewarding childhood. I loved being able to relive some of my greatest memories when I was so deeply saddened about the course my life had taken in my 30's.

About 7 months ago I decided to wrap up the old days. As my daughter's godfather reminded me today, the times, they are a changin'. It's time to make some new memories and let the old ones stay in the past, to patina and gather dust. Soon I'll feel a pull to explore new words, and to give my daughter all the joys I never knew as a child.

The deed is done

And today is part deux, telling Christina and the others about my departure. Michael was my moral support this week as I began dreading the conversation about leaving the company. He was right, it does feel so good to be on this side of it. I gave my friend Dan an early heads up, and realized that he too has been feeling disenfranchised. I sincerely hope that he finds empowerment as I did and makes his own path toward happiness. He is so close, but lets his guilt hold him back.

The technical skills I learned at JOI are numerous. The interpersonal skills I learned will serve me well. But the trauma of never being fully able to express my frustration will haunt me forever. Before I came to JOI I had never even heard of codependency. Now I know it intimately because of having been surrounded by people whose tendencies toward this unhealthy behavior were fully realized in an environment of manipulation and power struggles. In recent years I've had the fortune of seeing myself and my situation from an outsider's perspective. Had I started out that way, I would have built the proper boundaries to protect myself from the damage caused by others' jealousies, resentments, scheming. But I chose to dive in, even married into the JOI employee family. I wanted acceptance and I wove myself into the tapestry of Oppenheimer history, gilded as it was by intellectual attitudes and waspy superiority. And once in, I became aware of who knew what, how we were all being led where they wanted us, how this was one huge narcissistic game and we were the pawns.

Fast forward 14 years and here I am, making one  of my final commutes into the city that I used to love. Looking back on how this experience changed me. How on the one hand, my first day with this company coincided with meeting the man I would marry and with whom I would have my only child, and how I wouldn't trade that gift for anything in the world. But how on the other hand, my former director, a clinical sociopath who admitted that she envied my success as a mother and professional, distorted my perception of this business and of my capabilities as an art restorer. She did everything in her power to take away what happiness I took from this job, denying me opportunities for growth and travel. Because of Zoe," I was told I could not travel for work, in spite of my explicit requests to help out on overnight jobs which would have greatly empowered me in my career development. Today, however, I am enjoying the humble achievements of a 20 year stint in the art business, embarking on a bright future with a clear conscience, having only risen higher in my mind's eye in spite of her repeated attempts to drag me down.

Mercurious

I heard that Mercury is retrograde, and in transit across the sun today. Scientists say this affects us zero percent from a physics standpoint. But dammit, I'm feeling so fucking off today. The train was late, my old comfy shoes gave me blisters, no one said a word to me at work, I'm paranoid, craving salt, tired, listless. All the bright, positive energy I had last week is gone. I had trouble even remembering what I did when I left town. Maybe it's just latent stress. It will pass, it always does. I wish I could curl up and sleep till it's over.