Certain

            When I quit the first time, I was done. I just felt like I couldn’t do it any more. The thing that was in me that allowed me to do my job broke, and I had to get out. By the end of the summer I guess it kind of mended itself, and with the assistance of a shockingly misquoted dentist bill I returned to work.

            My first client back was an older man. He was gentle and in need of love. I couldn’t have asked for a better welcome back to the industry. He became a regular that I continued to see every couple months.

            This is not about the thing that was in me that allowed me to do the job. This is about my soul. When I work now I fear not for my physical well being, but the well being of my soul. I feel that there has been some sort of energy shift. It feels like there is something malevolent in the energy. So it’s not about the thing being broken. I don’t care what shape it’s in. The most certain thing I can say right now is that I will never work another job again. There is nothing in the world that I am more certain of.

            I went to see a naturopath today about some other health issues I’ve been having. He believes that the physical and mental are entirely intermingled so we talked about a lot of the emotional shit that’s been going on with me lately. He had me do some word associations.

            “Black.”

            “Ummm… Ok, give me the next word. For some reason I already had the Kremlin in my head even before you said the word.”

            “Weak.”

            I tried to play the game but I was still thinking about the Kremlin. I tried to think about other things but the best I could do was add tourists. Then there was this guy there. He looked like the Burger King mascot, only he was a real person and his hair was dark brown. He still had the stupid moustache, and puffed crushed velvet sleeves. I felt like I was doing it wrong but the doctor pushed me to tell him what I was seeing, so I described this idiot.

            Then I realised he represented my clients. I was overcome with a feeling of hate.

            “He’s such a fucking loser. He’s dirty and gross and I hate him. He’s incapable of having real relationships so he hires me. He uses me to fulfill the bullshit issues in his own life. He lives in his dirty clothes in his dirty little shit hole of a basement suite, and he can’t afford me, yet he hires me anyway, and I don’t give a fuck. I take his money anyway, and I enjoy it because he’s such a fucking loser. I hate him.”

            Word vomit.

            So there were some feelings there. Didn’t quite realise my feelings were that strong. We didn’t need to go further than that for word association.

            Yet despite this, I’m terrified to phone them and tell them I’ve quit. It’s my safety net. I have no income right now. But I will be ok. I have a small stack of cash saved that is meant to pay off debt but if it has to go to rent, it will go to rent. Some times I have ‘end of the world’ perspective. I am going to try not to do that now, because I am coming up out of a valley, and the hill I’m climbing is beautiful. I’ve got this. The scary thing is, if… if I do have to go back to work, it won’t be for just one job. The amount I earn in one job will not be enough to get me back. If I have to go back to work, I’ll be going back. But that’s not going to happen. It is not the end of the world. I have my emergency fund which might get me through a month in a half if need be.

            Some of my friends have Mom & Dad Insurance. I don’t. And I take pride in that. My family helps me out by giving me things that aren’t needed by others, ie a while back my aunts mother-in-law’s sister died so I got her 15 year old car. But they don’t give money, and the amount of strings that come with money really doesn’t make it worth while. But I wonder if I told them that I needed money if they’d give it to me. When I told my dad I quit, he cried.

            “Now you need to get a real fucking job,” he said, “Well not a fucking job…!”

            “Awww, Dad, did you make a hooker joke? That’s so funny!”

            Then he gafawed like only Dads can.

            Mom didn’t say anything. Then about ten minutes after I told her she asks, “How are you going to make money?”

            “I’ll get a job.”

            Then she returned to silence. I tried not to be hurt. I tried not to be mad. I know she just doesn’t know what to say. I just wish she’d say something. Anything. Good for you. I’m proud of you. I support you. These words are not in my mom’s vocabulary, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t feel them, and it doesn’t mean she doesn’t love me. It’s just hard.

            I’m still afraid to call and quit though. I talked to Joseph about it. He is so supportive and understanding. We are trying to get some emotional distance from each other since he’s now moved to the other side of the country, but I need his strength. The things he tells me just makes sense. The things he tells me feel so right and he never tells me what to do. We’re both virgos and well know the stubborn streak that runs through us. Perhaps he knows if I felt pressure I’ll just dig my heals in deeper. I’ll call when I’m ready. It’s a process. I know it will happen soon. And it will feel sooooo good!