Self preservation is scary

I’m going to be pretty revealing in this post, if only because I can think of nowhere else to go right now. I’m at the point where it’s either spill the crap or go lie in bed with a bottle of wine and drink under the comforter until morning. But it’s early, so why not do both?

This was a big day for me and because something in the back of my mind tells me to always cover my ass (the voice of my mother, perhaps?) I’ve been nothing but vague about this until now. My apologies. Last Friday, after a ridiculous string of events that occurred throughout the afternoon, I found myself sitting on my bathroom floor, clutching the telephone in my hand, cheek-to-tile, crying. They weren’t huge, dramatic sobs, but rather more desperate and exhausted. I can count on one hand how many events in my life have made me drop to my knees in desperation, so this was pretty big. And I don’t recommend seeking these things out.

After I picked myself up, something came over me. You know when you’re putting water into a container like, say, a child’s swimming pool and the water slowly seeps around to cover the bottom completely? And as you watch it fill up, you see that last available dry spot just before the water takes over and then, just like that, it’s covered?  That’s how that feeling was for me. It was like that one spot that had been waiting for something to fill it was finally covered. And then the water kept pouring in and made everything even and complete.

In this case, though, instead of water filling that empty space for me, it was action. I reached some unexplainable yet obvious-to-everyone-else place in my mind where it was like, of course, that is what needs to be done. Today, Internet, I quit my job. I quit my job without having a solid, full-time gig lined up. I quit my job without having married a millionaire. I quit my job without having won the lottery. I just quit it, to maintain my health, my sanity, my life.

Over the course of the last year, it has been no secret that I’ve not been even near remarkably happy in my situation. A few times recently it’s come to the point where people that love me have sat me down, took me by the shoulders and simply asked WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU? YOU ARE NOT THE SAME PERSON. I WANT LESLEY BACK. (There is no way to communicate that other than all caps, just so you know.)

The hardest part is, I know I’ve been different. I know I have been hard to live with and frightening and even if I’m okay 90% of the time, that other 10% screams through like a damn freight train. Which is so very unfair to the people on the platform, the people I love. It’s also terribly unfair to me, especially being that I’m the person that can actually do something about it.

So, today I turned in my resignation. It felt right when I did it, just as right as it did in those moments on the bathroom floor with the water filling in all the dry spots. This was the third morning in a row I’ve opened my eyes and felt good about the decision I’ve made. That feeling of action, of progress, it’s unmistakeable. It’s what I’ve been waiting for.

It is also absolutely scary.  Who quits their job in a recession?  Who quits their job with only a very loose Plan B? Apparently, I do. And I know for sure that it’s the right thing, because the fear of the unknown is far more attractive than the dread of the present. That?  That is everything right now.