The Kraken

The bone crushing, soul sucking moments before it all changes.

I had started this blog with the idea of looking back first. A brief review of what came before to better understand who I am and where I am going. But while the perfect clarity of hindsight could indeed identify those moments of lost opportunity or lessons learned, in the end they were simply the past. And because time in linear (except on Dr. Who), there is no going back. The past cannot be changed, lesson learned or not. Which doesn’t mean I don’t have humorous anecdotes highlighting the juvenile nature of corporate life and it’s so called leadership, or how the world of acquisitions turns perfectly normal adults into ranting 13-year olds screaming “Pick me! Pick me” for what can only be called a demeaning game of dodge ball led by the cackling buyers. But who hasn’t been there? Who hasn’t played that game to keep a job, then looked in the mirror asking, “Who the hell ARE you?”. And came up empty for an answer. For what? The hoarding of people, places and memories to hate? Hate is such a strong word (say this with a southern drawl, you must practically spit to get it out). Here is some advice honed from years of hoarding – do not hold hate in your heart because it makes your heart heavy. It is hard enough in this life to lose weight without carrying around bitter rocks of animosity in your chest. Let that shit go.

It is important to remember how the last month felt. Moored with false security to a job I had dedicated years to, a job I thought I loved.  But up from the dark had crept the tentacles of foreboding. Work was incessant, the atmosphere oppressive.  I started hating Monday on Sunday, because the job had already consumed Saturday. There was no down time. The small office without windows was a trap. I kept the door closed because of noise and foot traffic in order to think. And then thought too much. Something was squeezing the air out. Every other week a new set of acronyms, a new leadership team and self-inflicted perpetual chaos. Chaos begets chaos. And chaos begets meanness, fear and loathing.  I could not see it but the mooring chain to my anchor was corroding, being pried apart by the dark thing sucking all the passion out of the job I once loved. Blinded. Or so it seemed. But even in that What the Fuck moment of being handed a severance package and the offer of a car to “anywhere you want to go” the snarky bitch in the back of my head screamed “I knew it!”. And just like that it’s done. Where once you belonged, you don’t. Time to go. The tide does not wait. This ship is sailing, and you are definitely on it, like it or not.

Now Sunday’s come and there is no desperation. Because Monday’s are like Sundays, except you can buy liquor before noon. I greet the day with a Red Bull in one hand and close the evening with a glass of wine in the other. And should I choose to reverse that order, no matter because Japan in not waiting on the other end of the phone at 6am. At least, they are not waiting for me. In their place I listen instead for the wind to rise. And mermaids. And I never look back.