*My Freezer Meal-Preparing Groove, not anything risqué or even movie-worthy, which is why this is a blog post, not a two hour cinematic production. It is, however, filled with passion and beautiful people.
Last spring I quit. “Medical and ethical differences.” There it is, without all my whining and with all of the expletives taken out.
I cried. I vented. “Sorry I stayed pissed off for so long.” I tried to take it back. “Sorry I said ‘pissed.'” Things got worse. I leaned on Russ. I called Mom. I e-mailed Dad, “He’s yelling again. What do I do?” We changed our phone number.
I have the most amazing parents and brothers in the world. I dated little before Russ, and when I did, I was generally treated well. And of course, Russ is wonderful. All that to say, being mistreated shook me to the core. I had never been treated so poorly, and did not know how to react. I know, poor me, right? But I had no tools with which to fight back. I felt as though I had been sucker punched. Over and over.
I stayed with Banfield. I knew the company, when sticking to its written ideals, could thrive. And look. It works. I needed to prove that, to myself? To him? I don’t know. More than that, though, I needed to be where my values matched that of my team and my boss, and where I could be healthy.
I threw myself into writing, into facebook, into twitter. I found friends. One of my dearest friends is a wife of a veterinarian. God has an amazing sense of humor, but I would bet most of His humor is over our heads and we usually miss it.
I drank. A lot. Fortunately, I drink Diet Coke. I know the aspartame will get me, but if I were drinking alcohol at this rate, we’d all be in trouble.
I set out to prove men and women could be friends, and it didn’t have to end in a five year long horrible career mismatch that explodes in my face and scars me forever. I probably overstepped in trying so hard to prove that. If I did, I am sorry. But thank you for being there for me. And yup, it’s true, huh? Things can be good. Relationships can be healthy.
With my God and my friends and my family and my protected phone line surrounding me like a shield, I decided to no longer be frightened.
My fear had been conquered, well, if he isn’t around. Otherwise, I still shake. I moved on to the sadness. I mourned the lost relationships in every crisscross pattern in which they had been tied. Our kids had been friends. We vacationed together. We said things like Aunt and Uncle, boss, friend, brother and sister in Christ. In that respect, we’re stuck with each other. But I suppose God Himself can straighten that out later.
I went to church. I came home and cried and slept till evening. I did it again the next week. I had no sympathy for people who had wandered off from Westwood this year. Then I wished I were more sympathetic, like I used to be. And is this really healthy? But I go back again.
My garden last year was random and wild. I think, “that matches the turmoil in my soul” then laugh and realize it is just untamed because I have been moping around and neglecting it. It feels good to laugh. This year’s garden is not as wonderful as in years past, but it is again beautiful and orderly, and it feels good to play in the dirt.
So here I am a year later. I have a dream job. I am free, even mandated, to treat people ethically and treat patients to the best of my medical ability. I have what I hope is the start of a writing career. I have my awesome family and friends. I held on to my church with a closed fist – I know, you’re not supposed to hold anything with a closed fist, but I need it.
I went grocery shopping today. I rarely do that anymore. I used to do it weekly. Now Russ has to pick stuff up every other day or so, because I just can’t. Tonight, I am preparing freezer meals for the month, like my ex-boss’ wife and I used to do together every month. And I will be with former coworkers. And our leader had to postpone it once before because of a Terrible Sadness in her family.
I have perspective. I don’t have enough perspective to say “It’s just freezer meals.” But I do have enough perspective to say “Things could be worse, a lot worse.” And looking around, things are actually pretty wonderful. It’s been quite a year.
