God is home; we are in the far country. --Meister Eckhart
I have been in the far country for most of January. My impatience brought me there, and when I'd had enough of stringing myself out, I packed up and came right back home.
I was chasing after something I thought I wanted, or needed, or both, and when I finally woke up again, I realized neither was true; I had my chosen path for the next year or so: Life Coach training (and then indefinitely thereafter, practicing as a Life Coach). However, I am sometimes easily distracted, and so found myself distracted by the possibility of a job with a large, local Episcopal Cathedral. When I initially queried them, I was met with an enthusiastic "Yes, please forward your resume! I am really looking forward to speaking with you!" And speak we did, on three separate occasions and with a different panel of people each time.
So I cleared my temp schedule. I was keeping my eyes on the prize, I told myself, and couldn't be distracted by short-term nonsense. But day after day, the prize never materialized; key decision makers at the cathedral were perpetually gone, and a hiring consensus was not being reached.
I admit, I can be impatient, and I often criticize timelines that aren't my own (hell, I criticize a
lot of things that aren't my own, something I continue to address in Recovery, but I digress.....) I was doing that here, but the lack of a concrete decision also provided me with a lot of time to think. The last communication I received, via email--after the third interview, when all pertinent ground had been covered and more could not be said and I allowed myself the brief fantasy that the hiring manager would turn to me, smiling, and say, "You've got it!," thus making my weekend blissfully happy--was that everyone at the Cathedral was being "prayerfully discerning." I'd been told I was the final of two candidates, that I was at the top, still on the radar; I'd been hugged by one of the hiring managers, a warm gesture I interpreted as a very positive sign; and I'd been winked at by another person on the second panel who said to me in passing, "I think we'll be seeing you again."
All roads pointed to a forthcoming offer. And while I waited--and waited-- for that offer, I regretfully turned down other work. Then developed a bad case of insomnia and an anxious stomach. And started crying a lot and generally being a pain-in-the-ass around my roommate, who did his best to talk me off the curtains. I meditated, and it didn't help. I hiked for miles. I ate chocolate. Desperate for a mood-lifter, I snuggled on the sofa and watched "Miss Congeniality" (it helped). Desperate for sleep, I stayed in bed all of last Saturday and read. This emotional investment was not good. In fact, it was becoming utterly dysfunctional.
I felt like my life was not only off-track, it was completely on
hold, and I wondered if all this trauma-drama was worth it. As a former self-professed Drama Addict, I do my best to avoid drama now; I don't want it or need it to remind myself that, yes, I am
alive. But apparently, I am still an expert at creating it. Buckets-full.
And then I got this gentle reminder from my future Life Coach teacher:
".....remember your path. The force is with you....."
I'd come to Portland to be a
Life Coach,
NOT to throw in with an indecisive non-profit. My heart is in non-profits; I believe in them, just as I believe in public schools....but ironically, my experiences at both have never, ever been positive. Still--bafflingly--I persist in my thinking.
I knew, finally, what I had to do. I wrote the hiring manager a kind, thoughtful email full of thanks and gratitude, letting her know that I, too, had been prayerfully (more like
restlessly) discerning, and that I'd be withdrawing from their consideration. I ended up making my
own decision, and once I hit
send, it was like a huge burden lifted instantly. It felt right.
I let my temp agencies know I was free and willing. I am planning to send in my application for the Spring Life Coach program ASAP, which starts mid-March. I am sleeping better, and my stomach has calmed down. I am no longer anxious, nor am I morose. My roommate--who heard the brunt of my anxiety around all of this--was disappointed that I'd made the choice I made and wondered why, after all the spent energy and the positive feedback, I didn't continue to just stick it out, to
wait.
Because I've been waiting, I said. Dormant, almost.
Frozen. By
choice, yes, but....I lost my focus, and it began to gnaw at me. I gave them what they wanted, and in the end, they
still needed to pray....and I finally needed to move on. It was okay that he was disappointed; I'm entitled to change my mind, even if my choices seem to not make sense to those around me, even if I risk disapproval by doing so, even if I still develop those old, unnecessary feelings of
letting someone else down.Most of the other people around me, friends and family who'd also heard me question and analyze and complain and wonder, were happy that a decision--
any decision--had been made.
As am I. I am, contentedly, back on track. I've learned a few things about expectations and impatience and surrender. And I am no longer, in this instance, in the far country.
Welcome home.
