SPLAT!

Have you ever had the experience things just going all to hell? One minute things are great, life is good, and you're happy. The next minute, SPLAT! You've hit a wall. Probably one covered with mirrors, reflecting back the fact that your oh-so-perfect life is not so perfect.

I really hate SPLAT!s.

I had one recently. It's a big part of why I haven't been blogging. Remember the nasty Co-Worker? Well, when she quit, I found myself taking on a lot of extra responsibility. First it was just trying to divide her tasks so that everything got done. Then we hired a new person, and it was up to me to train her. On top of everything else I was doing. Putting in nine to ten hour days was the norm. I was okay with it, though. I felt useful, like I was really doing my best job; I was happy with life.

Then one day, my dad (aka THE BOSS) called me at the store.

"I hear you're being a terd. Knock it off!"

"What? I'm not being a terd! Who told you that?" At this point, I actually thought he was joking.

"Don't you defend yourself! I just got a call saying that you were being a brat and it's just like having The Redhead around again!"

It was at this point that I realized this wasn't a joke. One of my co-workers had actually called my father to tattle, rather than coming to me with a problem. I knew who it was, but I asked anyway. The response? "Everyone feels that way."

I was devastated. I felt (still feel, acutally) betrayed, unappreciated and confused. I had spent the last few weeks working like a maniac, making sure the place still ran. I was in the midst of what turned out to be a 12-hour-day. Worst, I had no clue as to what had gone wrong. I thought my co-workers were my friends. At least, I thought we were friendly. I had no indication whatsoever that they were the least bit unhappy with me.

What am I, psychic? Because if you don't tell me something is wrong, I can't fix it!

I'm still not sure which is worse - that they were all complaining about me behind my back or that instead of talking to me, they went to my dad. I can't help wondering what the heck I'm doing, living at home and working for my dad anyway.

I never intended to stay here long term, you know.

I've been here for a year, and even that's longer than I meant it to be. I ended up here because I was unhappy in Arizona, and I was getting ready to move back to Colorado. I was going to come home, live with the 'rents for a few weeks until I found myself a job and a house, then start my life over. I ended up living at home and working for my dad because he called me and said, "I need you to go home and work at the store. They're desperate for help." I thought, Really? He needs me? and I packed my car and left that week.

I've been thinking about moving on for a while now, but I never really did anything about it because I was happy where I was. In my prayers, I had said, "Okay, God, I know I'm supposed to move, so you just let me know when." This whole ordeal happened a couple days later. Hello, sign.

While betrayal wasn't my first choice as far as answers to prayers go, I'm starting to see the wisdom of it. Change is scary for me. It's scary for everyone to some extent, but it's hyperventilate, hide in the closet scary for me. Making a big change in my life takes a lot of courage for me, and that's something I seem to be in rather short supply of. However, now I'm just pissed.

Have you ever noticed how anger is a rather consuming emotion? It's kind of like pot. Unbridled and in large doses, it's dangerous; but in the right circumstances (like for cancer patients) it's acutally helpful. For me, the anger and betrayal is giving me the motivation to push beyond the fear.

So now I'm back where I was a year ago - unhappy, looking for a job and a place to live. Only now I have to find a place to live with a dog. I'm filling out applications, faxing resumes, making contacts; all the while thinking, Hmm. This all feels rather familiar.

And the kicker is, I'm terrified. Yeah, the anger is keeping me from just giving up, but it's definitly not getting rid of the fear altogether. New situations can be such a risk for me because of my depression. If they don't go well, it's not just a crappy situation that I have to endure for a while. It's hide-in-my-bed-can't-get-up-for-a-month-want-to-die, and I'm just not sure I can do that again.

I keep telling myself that having faith and courage doesn't mean that you're not scared. It just means that you keep pushing through. Sometimes I buy it; usually not.

But for now, I'm stuck at my old job, feeling like everyone here hates me. I know that probably not true, and I know it's my attitude making things uncomfortable for me, but it's awfully hard to pretend everything is okay around a bunch of backstabbing, immature liars! Ah. See, the anger has reemerged.

I'm still stunned from the impact. I'm seeing stars and rubbing my forehead, thinking "Where the hell did that wall come from?!?"

I so didn't see this coming.