The last day on my job was Christmas Eve. Leaving was the right decision, for a number of reasons for which this is not the proper venue. Giving myself time to figure out what comes next, to heal, to rest -- that was also a good decision.
Still, I find myself like a deer caught in the headlights, like the victim of an accident wondering what just happened. I've spent three days wandering around, in and out of my home, starting at sudden noises and forgetting what I'm doing. I've slept a lot.
Part of me has been upset about this, thinking that I should Get Things Done and Accomplish Tasks -- presumably to justify taking time off. But my body and mind have not cooperated. Beyond taking showers and feeding self and cat, I have accomplished nothing.
This morning the sun came out after a year and a half of overcast days (I may be exaggerating a tiny bit). I sat in my sunroom and thought, "I can do this. I just think I'd feel better if I knew what this is." Apparently, the answer is not forthcoming.
And so, I'm sitting here, watching the sunshine sparkle on the snow, and waiting. Patience. It's a virtue -- one I am being dragged kicking and screaming into cultivating.