"Turn to face the strain." That's how the Bowie lyrics go, and it seems relatively fitting. Changes most certainly can be fun, but the big ones require a lot of soul searching, and quite frankly, an awful lot of faith. And I have to say, I'm kind of struggling with that today.
A set of weird circumstances have brought on a move for me. This, in itself, would not be something I would have chosen for myself. It has the potential for being a good thing, and I'm enjoying some of the benefits of the move to be sure, but there are plenty of parts of my former life that I miss. Things that I took for granted would always be there. Things that I truly enjoyed. They're not gone, but I have to work and hope that everything falls into place to get to enjoy them again.
And the initial change - the move - has had a snowball effect. I'm on the cusp of changing jobs. And when is this not scarey? Ok, I guess for lots of people getting a new job is a really happy occasion, and in many ways this IS a happy-maker. But it's still scarey. I have a dozen devil-I-don't-know questions that I'm worrying about:
Will the money be there?
(Commission based jobs can be lucrative and challenging, and you have a sense of empowerment because you get monitary rewards for doing a good job. But in slow times, the wrong location, a bad economy it can be a be struggle)
Will the insurance be acceptable and affordable?
(Now that I'm 40-sih I find that parts are starting to fail, and the warrantee is more important than ever. Buying group health with a bunch of older, chubby, smoking men scares me. Hello high premiums.)
Will the location be okay?
Will I like my new coworkers?
Will I like the new customers?
WILL I LIKE THE NEW COMPANY?
But the last year has been no cake walk. A pressure-filled environment. A downward-trending economy in an already recessed city. Down-sizing. More hours. More demands. More accountability. More events. More stress. More grasping at straws.
And then there's the boss. Picture Meryl Strep in "The Devil Wears Prada" only without the glamor, height and poise. "Hard to please" is the kind way to phrase it. And even without the move (which brings with it a 94 mile round trip commute) I had been contemplating (read: wishing) for a new job. It's hard to feel like you're really trying every day, and yet every day you're failing. Good things happen, but they're serendipity. Bad things happen, and they happen because I let them. Or so it seems.
I want these changes to work for me. I need them to work for me. But that doesn't mean I'm not terrified.
And then I remind myself:
I am provided for. I have lived at the very brink for a long time, and yet when I get too percariously close to the edge, He's there to yank me back. Whether it's some strange check in the mail that exactly covers the speeding ticket I couldn't afford, or providing me with a new job after 2 years of looking just when the company was closing my location, I have been provided for. So it's hard to think that this oppurtunity appearing just now is coincidence. It feels more like a life preserver being thrown my way. So I'm going to grab ahold and hope for the best.