It's dreary here, cold, rainy and wet.
So, I ask myself, "what would you like to do today, Scott?" I'd like to go back to bed. But, I must write. I must, at least, honor this painful, depressing gift of freedom from the restaurant. That's what getting fired was: a gift, even if I can't see it right now.
As I was reading about Liz's last week in Italy, her week-long exploration of the dreary, broken Sicily, I was looking for something connect to, something to hold on to. I feel like I need some sort of connection while I'm in this free fall of a new life (not even knowing what this new life is). As I read on, I begin to lose faith that even Liz will offer me some breath of hope. And, then it hits me, touches me more like, as a welling up in my chest that's climbs into my throat and mists up my eyes": ". . . and when you sense a faint potentiality for happiness after such dark times" (IN dark times, the way I'm feeling right now) "you must grab onto the ankles of that happiness and not let go until it drags you face-first out of the dirt - this is not selfishness, but obligation. You were given life; it is your duty (and also you entitlement as a human being) to find something beautiful within life, no matter how slight." p 115
Maybe my situation isn't as bad as a debilitating divorce and an equally debilitation depression (though, in my drinking days, I did experience such depression) as much as those things aren't as bad as the blight and morass of Sicily. In the midst of all this comparing and contrasting, I have responsibilities. I need to get boxes. I'm out of my apartment in 5 days and I haven't even started packing!
I must look for the joy and the pleasure in today. I must find something today or I'll go crazy! I'll get debilitatingly depressed in this new gift. Funny, I don't know what to do with it in the same way I didn't know what to do with Mom's gift of Eat, Pray, Love. Yet, here I am. A few days after I received the book it hit me. Perhaps, the same will happen a few days after I received the firing.
My therapist and a close friend suggest that I get another job waiting tables. I feel the same resistance I did the last time I got fired. I've been fired from two restaurants in a row. I'm sensing a pattern. However, I was miserable at the previous restaurant and I was miserable at the last restaurant. Who's to say I won't be miserable at the next place? So, where can I go to work and find joy? I guess I could look all over the world only to discover that the joy was already inside me. I, then, could do any job joyfully, couldn't I? Oughtn't I?
Perhaps I ought to write another petition to God. Something like:
"God, it is clear that you have had a hand in all this. I humbly and respectfully request you clue me in on what you're up to. Right now, I'm unable to see the signs clearly. So, if you could see fit to give me some sort of clue, I will gladly follow, as I would greatly appreciate said "clue". However, if I'm required to blindly, yet faithfully walk through this fear and uncertainty, I will do that too . . . as willingly as I can. We are both participants in my life and I am not yet well-versed in our language. So, a little more clarity would be appreciated . . . if you see fit.
Humbly, Sincerely, Faithfully, Respectfully, Truly and as Lovingly as I can muster Yours,
Scott
I will know the answer in God's time. Now, I must start looking for the clues. Who knows what the search will bring? I certainly don't. I still need to go back to the restaurant to clean out my locker and get my last pay check and tips. While the gut-check to the ego that was the firing still aches, perhaps what I need is some closure; a clean break (as a write this, it begins to rain. A cleansing rain?) before I can move on. Perhaps I'll see that this is a gift from God. Right now it hurts. But, someday, hopefully soon, I'll be thankful.
I feel the pain lifting as I make a plan for the future, sustained by my writing. Now, what shall I do today? Get some boxes. Rent a truck. And, be happy, because the grace of God goes with me.
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