Tales from the House of Chaos

Tuesday, November 26, 2019

Writer's Block

Writers block sucks. Especially the kind I've been struggling with these last several months... hell, make it a year, or even two.

Unlike streaks of writers block that I suffered in school (both back in the day and recently), there was no assigned paper, no sensation that one late night was all I needed to pound out the 10-page record of all that I'd researched and learned over the prior 15 weeks.

No. Not this time.

This has been a more insidious form of writer's block, involving moments where my soul cries out to feel the scratch of the pencil on paper, to hear the clicking of keys as I memorialize my thoughts in the digital space. Yet, my mind resisted. With each attempt to share with the world the one word that ended the potential and promise of what was to be a vastly rewarding 3rd career, my words faltered.

This post is a good example - it's taken me nearly 3 weeks to complete. An unwavering emotional dam resulted from the subconscious knowledge that once the words began to flow, so would the tears. Tears that have been trying to release themselves from my soul in an unending stream.

Thankfully, time heals. Mostly.

Time, a lot of water, and a multitude of lifestyle changes. No more tomatoes, eggplants, tomatillos, or peppers of any kind, and certainly no 'red' or pepper based spices. Diet Coke is off limits as are artificial flavorings of any kind. Eating out is an adventure in finding food I can enjoy without completely pissing off the waitstaff. (Hint: It takes 3 questions about food ingredients before the manager makes a visit to the table.)

The one word diagnosis that brought all of this into my world?

Fibromyalgia. Fibro for short.

Yup.

Tears have been shed, emotional landslides buttressed, and a healthy outlook attained. In truth, I haven’t been as healthy or happy as I am today in a very long time. Fingers crossed that things continue to move in that direction, fibro or not.

Wednesday, October 23, 2019

F is for Fuhgeddaboudit

When asked what I'm up to these days my response is usually that I'm currently "In transition".

It was, I suppose, inevitable that things would go awry after all of the hard work, late nights and discovering an actual joy with the profession of accounting. Friends, old and new, often expressed disbelief in my newly chosen career.

"You're too vibrant, too outgoing and social to be an accountant" they'd say. Or they'd respond with an incredulous "Uh, really?"

Yes. Really. I love the order, the process, the piecing together of miscellaneous facts to build a financial image. Perhaps evenmoreso, I love the challenge of digging through old records, passed legislation, and case law all for the possibility of determining the answer to a client's question.

I love nearly all of it. Yet, for me, a career as a full-fledged accountant is no longer a possibility. Reading that statement... When I admit the reality of my state in life... it tears my heart out, and I find myself adrift.

I cannot help but continually ask, "Where did it all go wrong?" "How did I miss the signs?" and an even more uncertain voice asks "What will I do now?"

I've stumbled and fallen professionally now at least three times. Each time I've experienced such a change, I've risen, dusted off the debris and began the hard work of starting over.

In 2008 when the housing market crashed and professions associated with that industry suddenly had no gainful employment. As a Landscape Architect, I was unable to frame proposals for projects that were awarding at work rates from the mid-80's.

After a few years at home with the kids, I began the long trek down the path of acquiring entry into a medical program as medicine has always been another untapped interest of mine. Though I did well in my coursework, I was unable to crack the code of developing a successful application and essay packet and was never offered admission into the programs I sought.

It was during the course of acquiring prerequisite classes that I was offered what became my second career - working as a transcriber for the D/deaf and hard of hearing. Challenging and often lonely work, yet I found that the service I provided for the students I worked with left me feeling joyous in being a small part of their success in higher education.

When that job was unexpectedly no longer part of my life, I struggled to find a new profession, a new Identity, and a new passion that would and could carry me through this second half of my life's story.

And I'd found it with accounting. It met all of my apparent needs, all of my personal goals, and the areas of practice are vast and highly employable. Most importantly though, I enjoyed the type of work and critical thinking that was required.

Long days, late nights... recollections of my days studying landscape architecture... While I didn't LOVE each and every moment, I felt complete.

Most are lucky when they find a career that they love and can pursue at full abandon for the rest of their lives. I'm not sure what to call it when you find an equally passionate path a second time. Fortunate? Perhaps.

But a third time? Miraculous?

As with the first and the second, I've been struck down just as I neared the summit of my life's mountain. Only this time it wasn't the economy or a supervisor who felt threatened by my skills and resilience.

This time my future darkened as the result of one. single. word.