Time Flies
Five years ago I was a night desk clerk at a local hotel. (A week and five years before that I had my own personal #MeToo incident at the same job.)
Five years ago today (1/26/18) I was saying goodbye to my father at his memorial service. I bawled my eyes out for the first time since I found him passed away in his hospital bed a few days before. (It was probably the last time I would really cry until a few months later when my repressive dam finally broke). It was the last call broadcast over the attending police officer's radios that did it. Five years later, I think of the dispatcher's voice announcing that my dad's badge number was going "off duty" one last time and I still break down in tears. He was a police officer for 34 years. He had retired only a few years before he passed away from a devastatingly brief fight with cancer.
A change to pharmacy tech, a brief return to the night desk, and a long-term change to working for the school came within the next several months. Add a part time stint as a grocery cashier, and a full-time job as a caretaker to a diabetic feline, and you have a pretty good look at the next 3 years.
Not quite two years ago I hit my breaking point. As it turns out, you can only play the "I'm fine" card so many times before the deck runs out and you have to fold. I quit my school job, doubled down on working on me, and started working with a professional on rebuilding the foundations that had cracked and crumbled beneath me without my even realizing it.
Four months after that, my foundations were finally beginning to settle again. When a particular individual forced me to question my personal value once again, I had a firm enough footing this time to swing back. By the end of that December (2016) I had Ash to Ashes finished and editing completed for a complete first draft (having started it eight years earlier).
Almost exactly one year ago I made the decision to self-publish my first book. I submitted my "finished" draft of Ash to Ashes to Createspace to get the professional editing started and the publication process kicked into gear. It was terrifying. It was exhilarating. It was the first time in a long time that I finally felt like I was on the right path. My path.
It's January 2018 now. Ash to Ashes has been in print for approximately 8 months. I've been to a few conventions with my book. I've made some new friends who share relatable experiences. I'm creeping up on 200 copies of the book sold since it published. I've had incredibly supportive feedback from friends, family, and complete strangers who have read the book. I've created something and done something that is uniquely mine. I've made my first mark on the world that I can tangibly see and touch and say "Hey! That's mine! I did that!" I managed to take a successful swing at the existential crisis that had been plaguing me for the last several years that had left me asking myself, "What legacy will I leave behind when I'm gone?"
My second book is slowly but surely getting closer to done. It's not where I'd like it to be as far as progress is concerned, but I'm learning to deal with that frustration. At the very least, it hasn't taken me ten years to get it to this point this time (...uh, technically speaking; more on that another time...), so I'm already winning in that department. I have a years worth of experience and learning at my disposal this time around. I have a better idea of what to expect as I wrap up this book and get it ready to send to publishing.
In an oddly poetic twist, I said goodbye to somebody else yesterday. Perhaps it wasn't so much of a "Goodbye," but more of a "See ya around." It's hard not to run into people in a community the size of the one I live in. But after a year and a half of intensive work, my counselor and I have agreed that I have made it to the point where I don't need ongoing help anymore. I recognize that anxiety and depression are things that I'll probably always be dealing with off and on. (Bad shit happens to good people. Welcome to the world.) But, thanks to her, I don't have to be afraid of instantly shattering again the next time something hits me the wrong way. I understand myself better. I understand my foundations better. I've learned better how to identify and express what I need for myself and from the people around me. I've grown and strengthened with this person's help, and I've reached the point where I can move forward on my own and utilize the tools and insights that she gave me. She did her job amazingly well, and I will always be thankful for what she helped me to accomplish in our time together. That's the power of finding the right match in a professional counselor.
If you had asked me ten, five, three, even one year ago if I thought I'd be where I am today, I would admit that I had no clue. Five years can feel like an eternity while you're in the thick of it, but it's such a small space of time, really. What's truly amazing is looking back and seeing how much can happen and how much can change. The ups, the downs, the spins, and the completely unexpected twists - life is a wild ride when you take the time to look back at the track you've been on.
It makes me curious to see what happens next as the time continues to fly.
