Just over a year ago, long about this time of day, I would be hard at work at the job that had held me prisoner for nearly thirty years. Is that actually fair to say? I mean I was free to quit at any time. Just hand in my notice and walk away. But..the job was only six minutes from the house, I knew it well, I had earned lots of paid vacation time, just a few of the chains that kept me there. Plus the fact I knew most of the people who worked there at varying levels.
Then, this virus came along. I will admit that for months, I said I was tossed out like yesterday’s trash. Unneeded, unwanted, thirty years meaning nothing. Then, after calming down and accepting that the promise to be called back was yet another lie among many I began to rethink the situation.
After I decided to take early retirement, and calmed down even more, realization set in big time.I had been rescued, released, set free of a job I probably would have never voluntarily left. The locks had been opened, the chains removed, freedom beckoned. I have said that it was the Lord who set me free, took me from that position, so that I would be available for mom and dad. Stubborn me just took a while to understand.
Which I now understand as wonderful and amazing. But yet, I get confused.What day is it?
Monday had always been the day to dread. The weekend had been much too short. Where did it go? Wasn’t it just four o;clock Friday? But wait, working ten hour days, we usually finished on Thursday. That made it worse.
Tuesday was usually Monday on repeat. maybe, unless it took an attitude, it would be just a tad easier, but that all depended on what all was going on across the manufacturing floor.
Wednesday was a day where that annoying phrase “What day is it??” kept echoing across the room. Usually with someone shouting, “Will you stop it?”
Thursday, unless we were flooded with an abundance of orders requiring overtime, the last day of the week. Smiles covered the room, laughter was often, annoyances easily worked through. We only had to make it to four. Then the weekend could begin.
Friday, as long as we weren’t working, was a good day to take care of all that stuff you couldn’t get to during the first of the week, like doctor’s appointments. Unless missing work wasn’t a big deal then you just went.
Saturday, was play day.
Sunday was a day of worship.
Unless there was a holiday tossed in or the plant shut down for Independence Day. That changes everything. And we won’t discuss that first day back after a shut down.
Unless of course my over the road truck driving husband was going to be home, then everything was upended, until he died.
I spent what seemed to be forever trying to clear away the fog of confusion on how I was supposed to act and feel. Am I supposed to be? Am I supposed to be sad? Angry? Lost? Strong? What am I supposed to do?
But back to the suddenly free, clear and…confused. I have a calendar open on my desk, right in front of me. I still get days mixed up. My son laughs at me when I make mistakes, when I lose days, or dates, or events.
Currently, with nothing much going on, each day tends to blend in to another. I wonder though, if that is really a bad thing? Being free of restrictive time schedules leaves me free to be able to assist others, to be here for my folks, to do what I want to when I wish. I can write, I can read, I can sit and stare out the window.
I’m thinking though that after we finally make our way through this current storm, I may find a part time job, or volunteer somewhere, or find something to do with myself….or not. I’ll figure it out, right now I’m just a bit confused..