Eventually I’ll find the time to blog.  Right now it’s enough to say that I am:

- still employed
- finished with the Army 10 Miler (and still able to walk)
- getting better at balancing my life
- thrilled my youngest is going to be 7 years old tomorrow. 

(source)

Whooo-boy, I’m officially tired.  The last week has felt like that annoying commercial of the person trying to swim in a pool filled with caramel.  Everything is going so very fast, yet it seems to take forever.  My brain works overtime during the day, trying to comprehend the many new things I’m trying to cram into it.  I attempt to cram a run into my body in the 40 minutes I have after work and before kid pick up.  Pick ups have me on edge; I take deep breaths before getting the girls from their after-school care.  They are necessary, the girding of the loins so to speak, because Arden is usually angry about something and Lily is usually sulking about something.  Both of them place the blame squarely on the school, but only because they are kind enough to not hurt my feelings by reminding me once again how I screwed up their lives going back to work full time.  Then it’s time to rush home, cram dinner in their tiny bodies that are trying to grow (but not fast enough, according to the pediatrician), and make it to whatever class they are signed up for.  By the end of the night, I’m wiped out and wondering if this is ever going to get easier.

And it will.  Right now certain activities are being dictated to me, and for right now, I’m going along with it.  Once this week is over, I will be able to impose more calm to the current chaos, and I think both of the girls will respond well to having some downtime and perhaps be less grumpy.  I don’t really blame them; this anti-superwoman is pretty cranky herself. 

The positives:  I do love my job.  On a conference call today, all my old coaching skills came back and I found myself leading a discussion with an attorney about how best to position the firm in this particular situation.  It was natural to me, and it wasn’t until after, when my boss commented on it, that I realized I still have most of my brain cells and can occasionally leverage them for other people’s benefit. 

I LOVE working downtown.  I know many people think it’s a drag - the drive, the tolls, the homeless bugging you for your spare pennies . . . but I love all of it.  Well, not the tolls.  I love getting out of the suburbs every day.  I love learning the names of the security guards on the bottom floor of my building.  I love rapidly changing out of my uncomfortable 2.5” heels into my running shoes, and heading out across one of the many bridges spanning the James River, just 2 blocks up from my office.  Or I’ll run up to Broad Street and distract myself with the amazing people watching; the runs go by quickly and my steaming brain, cooked beyond recognition, begins to reset and still in the sweating cage of my skull. 

The honest truth is that yes, I made the right decision, and no, it hasn’t been easy.  There are things going on with the ex that really bother me, but I’m not able to discuss them here and I’m certainly not able to discuss them with him.  At least not now.  Things that bothered me about him during the marriage are now quite huge and ugly; I’m sure he feels the same way about me.  And sometimes the idea that we are tied together, trying to coparent and raise children together for another decade plus, feels overwhelming. 

Add Running Boy’s ex who is still legally his wife and all of their issues and the mixing and melding of our combined four children and you start to get the picture of why, on random nights like tonight, I just want to tell everyone to go pound salt and drink a martini while lounging in bed. 

The silver lining in all this is that after the last two years, I’ve become an expert on myself and my limits.  When I begin to feel like I’m doing and doing and doing for everyone else, I need to reel it back in, back down, sleep more, be kind, be relaxed.  I know that I’ve hit the wall mentally, at least for a little while, and I need to just chill on worrying about everyone else.  This kind of behavior is ingrained in me, so it’s going to be a life-long struggle.  The best I can do for others is to simply state what is bothering me, and what I am able to offer, and move on.  It’s ironic that I was just telling someone I run with to stop fighting so hard and just “be the rock in the stream”.  In other words, instead of walking against the current, trying to envision yourself as a polished stone with everything just flowing around you.  You can observe the water, but it doesn’t affect your position or life.  This kind of new-age crap talk really works well for me, except I can never remember to do it.  It seemed to help the person I was running with, but I promptly forgot it and by the time I got home tonight I was wound so tightly you could have used me as a slingshot. 

I’m ready for better, less chaotic times.  The financial pressure easing from me has been a huge source of peace, but it’s going to take a couple of months for me to catch up and really start saving for a house.  I’m ready to stop finding new ways that my divorce has damaged me or my kids.  I want to make amends and move on, instead of just saying the words outloud and hoping they come true. 

I started my official job today.  I decided on a comfortable dress hand picked by Chelsea*, personal shopper extraordinaire at Nordstrom, threw on some very uncomfortable wedges (Chelsea swore they were better than heels!  She LIED!), and hit the road. 

I’m not really sure how to summarize the experience other than to say it was a good one.  It was also an intimidating one, but I’d say excitement won out over fear.  After being presented with my super-duper security swipe-card badge thing, then forced into a chair for a mandatory headshot, I spent the remainder of my day trying to navigate the hallways to the bathroom (got lost twice), figuring out which bank of elevators took me to my car or my floor, or sometimes a random floor or even another building, and filling out massive amounts of forms and learning the specialized lingo and jargon big corporations tend to have. 

Later, I found out that they actually provide floor plans to you so that you can figure out how to get around because it feels THAT COMPLICATED.  I totally should have studied them before coming in today. 

I was also amazed at how much is DONE for you.  Having been a small business owner for years, and before that working in primarily small to mid-sized businesses, I’m not used to anything like what I saw today.  While meeting one of the team members for lunch, a team of people were buzzing around my cubicle installing computers and phones and leaving me typed instructions on how to do everything.  Press a single button and a help desk person answers your call and remote controls your computer.  Need something shipped, even if it’s personal?  Send it downstairs; they’ll deduct the cost from your paycheck.  Someone set up my parking for me so fast that this morning, I had to take an hourly parking ticket and by the afternoon, I was swiping my new badge to get out of the garage. 

These little things impress me greatly, and yes, I realize that some of them are novel.  I’ve just never worked for a corporation so large and so segmented that every tiny task is assigned out and perfected into an art form.  Soon they’ll be expecting me to make art forms from my tiny little pieces of work, and I’m looking forward to that, but in the meantime it’s fascinating learning how a company this big remains fluid and able to react to the economy, client needs and general tweaks in planning.  Sitting through the benefits meeting was like shoveling fistfuls of cake into my mouth.  I’ve never seen benefits like these and could only sit there, marveling and drooling, over how this could make my life so much easier and so much better.

A small dent in my ego:  being escorted to my cubicle, I ran into someone who has been newly appointed a higher-ranking job than mine.  She’s someone I know from an organization, but mostly just by name.  We are both on an upper floor and she has a beautiful office with a huge window.  At the time I met her, I was presenting to the organization and she was in the audience, a newly minted marketing professional, me the seasoned expert.  It was a bit weird shuffling off to my desk while she tried to put together the pieces of how I ended up where I am.  Then I realized that the previous tenant in my cube had removed the fluorescent lights from above the desk and I was back to my normal happy self. 

The girls did well today.  It’s going to take them some time to adjust, just as it will me.  We were all tired tonight and I am still trying to piece together how I’m going to fit everything into my days.  A warning:  I’m going to drop some balls, and I apologize in advance.  That being said, I suppose I need to pack some running clothes so I can squeeze in a small run after work and before kid pick up, pack lunches and finish doing laundry. 

*If you haven’t had the personal shopping experience at Nordstrom, I recommend it.  Nordstrom may be more expensive than other stores but it is worth every penny of it, especially if you are fashion-challenged as I am. 

10 years has passed since I “officially” worked for anyone, though it seems like I’ve been working for people constantly - and I have.  The only difference is the benefits were non-existent and the paychecks came sporadically, usually long after I actually needed the money.  When I lost my business partner, I lost a lot of motivation.  It was too hard to keep selling as well as servicing the clients I had.  I was torn in three directions - and that is 2 too many. 

So a week from tomorrow, I’ll be channeling Ms. Parton (with a lot less in the top-heavy department; can’t even imagine what running with those things would be like):

Ironically enough, I can’t seem to get the legal sector out of my blood and I keep coming back to it.  I think it’s fair to say I like the challenge.  This job is different than others I’ve had.  The firm is huge and they have lots of people to do lots of individual things; I’ll be spending most of my time responding to RFP’s and figuring out how best to position the firm, and what attorneys should be teamed up, to get the business.  It leverages one of my strongest skills:  pulling the best parts out of people and making them dance on paper.  It also proves one CAN make a living with a degree in English and Creative Writing. 

My team is small and I’m excited about the amount of work and autonomy involved in the job.  I like to be left alone to crank out the work; writing is a solitary art anyway.  I’m also, frankly, excited about things like working with other people who are smarter and more successful than me, working downtown (yay for crossing into city limits!), meeting new people (cliche but true!), and having health insurance that doesn’t cost me 1/3 of a mortgage payment.  I’m nervous about how it’s going to affect the girls, or how I’m going to manage to fit runs in between a career and mothering, neither of which is very part time, and I’m going to miss the flexibility I’ve enjoyed so much over the last decade.  Sporadic paychecks are easier to swallow when you can set your own schedule, even though the truth is this:  if you own your business (in sole proprietor style), you are never on vacation and you can never fully disconnect. 

I say all of these things lightly but this was a very difficult decision for me.  The career person still buried inside me was yanking on the chain, wanting to be let loose to make a difference in a new environment.  Instead of intimidating me, the firm seemed to energize me and I realized what kind of assets I could bring if I could just get my foot in the door.  Back at home, I struggled and suffered through Lily’s tears as she begged me not to put her in after-school care.  She’s really had the Kool-Aid mom for as long as she can remember; I’m always arranging play dates and dragging kids all over.  Those days will be over when I start my new job, but I also felt it was important to listen to her and let her know that I too am sad about those things.  In the end, I told her, I have to save money to buy a house for all of us and that requires me to work. 

The hard cold fact is that I work very, very hard for someone who makes almost no money.  I’m tired of working for free, even if that’s for myself.  I can’t afford it and mentally, I have to find a better way to work like normal people do.  This means working during the day, and leaving the work at work.  It means I can read or watch television at night without my laptop open and on, laundry piled up in the corner, my refrigerator a mess because I forgot to grocery shop again and am once more eating cereal for dinner. 

It’s going to be a big transition for all of us. 

Hey guess what?  Patience has never been my virtue.  Not sure if you’ve noticed, but this Type A personality doesn’t like sitting around waiting for things.  I especially don’t like sitting around being sick, especially when nothing I can do but give my body time is the only remedy. 

I decided to just test out my lungs today, so I did a lap around my driveway.  Nope, my lungs can’t breathe, the coughing fit that followed left my head feeling like it was going to explode, and my neighbor probably wanted to dial 911 because I sounded like I was in the death throes of some heinous respiratory thing. 

Pneumonia sucks.  I’ve had respiratory infections and bronchitis - yeah, those were bad, but this thing is kicking my ASS. 

It’s like my breathing has been narrowed from a fire hose-sized tube down to a kiddie straw.  Air doesn’t flow right, and when it does, my chest rattles and wheezes and as Running Boy so kindly pointed out, I sound like an old person with emphysema.  (and my brain isn’t working right either; i would normally be able to spell emphysema in my sleep, but i actually had to look it up after spelling it emphesema, emphsyma, and empasema)

On an entirely different note, Running Boy can laugh at my coughing fits, but he’s the one who consistently calls cicadas (of which we have many, here in Virginia) quesadillas.  I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to look at the tortilla version the same way again. 

So, it looks like one more week until I can attempt a run again.  I might throw caution to the wind and try to catch up with my training team on Saturday; I have to play it by ear. I don’t really trust my ear, because my “ear” is what got me in this mess in the first place.

I was talking to Meg earlier today contemplating why I got so sick.  This is honestly the most sick I’ve been since I don’t know when.  Part of my promise to myself, way back when my life came off the rails, was to take care of myself.  This meant mitigating my stress, managing my food intake, prioritizing exercise, and taking time for myself.  A big part of it was making sure I got enough sleep.  Throughout the past two years, periods of insomnia have caused me major issues. 

Looking back at the past month, it’s easy to see why I got sick.  Some of it was truly out of my control (I hadn’t planned for my mother’s stroke; she hadn’t either for that matter, and I underestimated the emotional impact it would have on me).  Some of it was just unfortunate - I didn’t really think about the fact that my triathlon training would overlap with the start of half marathon training, and instead of trying to just focus on the tri training, I insisted on keeping up with both.  I wasn’t sleeping much and I was going through a period of stress with the Boy.  My vacation that I’d looked forward to for so long had blown up into a million tiny pieces.  I was interviewing for jobs (again), and trying to figure out how to manage my internet site’s busy season at the same time as my part time job’s busy season.  I was eating poorly and working out in a manner that wasn’t healthy, either.  Too much of a good thing ends up in plantar fasciitis, inflamed hip bursitis and shin splints. 

Still, I was thinking my body could have sent me a slightly more subtle message than full-blown pneumonia.  In one week, we had an earthquake, a hurricane, and I got pneumonia.  I felt a little overwhelmed. 

We tried to make the best of the vacation week.  I left town for a few days with Running Boy and his kids - we headed to his hometown for some fun.  I was already going downhill by the time we arrived last Sunday night.  I spent the better part of the evening in a run-down ER full of people who, god bless them, looked either like viable contenders for the upcoming season of “Teen Mom” or extras on the set of a 1984 Whitesnake video.  After the diagnosis and a purse full of pills, I managed two days in my Oscar-winning role of “heavy burden girlfriend coughing germs all over my parent’s house” before I called Nicole and begged her to come pick me up.

Two days in Christiansburg with Dan and Nicole was great; I got to catch up with them, kick them out of their bed, and spread my germs all over a new town.  Nicole let me do nothing and we watched hours of Style and HGTV.  It was awesome.  I knew I was truly emotional and still sick when Jerry Maguire’s “You Complete Me” speech reduced me to tears. 

(I hate Tom Cruise)

Back in Richmond, I am making the best of my recuperation time while waiting for my kids to return from their vacation with their father.  I’ve never gone this long without seeing them, so I’m a bit keyed up.  Add to this nearly 2 weeks without any exercise and minimal time with the Boy and I’ve got some seriously stored energy.  I’ve been catching up on long-lost DVR programming and doing a lot of laundry.  I’ve slept a bunch, too, and tomorrow I’ll attempt to process payroll without falling asleep on it or blowing pneumo-germs all over the time sheets. 

I say all this humorously, or at least I try to.  The truth is, I’m so annoyed that I’m sick and that it’s taking THIS LONG to get over it.  I’ve got a 4th (and please god let it be the final) interview on Wednesday, my kids start school on Tuesday, and I have a freakin’ half marathon to train for.  I do NOT have time to be sick and this is frustrating me.  I go back to the old tried and true sayings of therapists around the world and “look for the lesson” in all of this.  It doesn’t take a genius to figure out the lesson is that if I had taken MORE time to take care of myself, I might have avoided this . . . or maybe not.  Maybe it was just my turn to take the bullet and spend 3 weeks moaning and coughing and wheezing. 

I do know one thing - I cannot wait to get off this couch and back to living.