Recovering From a Tailspin

Went for coffee with my mother yesterday. We were both happy to get out and talk. The only problem is we talked the whole time about me and work.

She's interested in my life but I'm terrible at sharing and tend to keep things to myself. That's hard to believe given this blog, but I reveal more writing online than in person, even to my mother.

So it was nice she got me talking, but then I spent the rest of the evening pissed and depressed. I had to apologize to my wife, daughters, and even the dog for my bad mood.

Talking about work reminds me of the absurdity of it and I feel the failure of still working there. I've written all week about a new life, new adventure, but these evolve over time and talking about where I'm at made me feel again that I if I don't change everything right now, it will somehow be too late.

The problem is that I know I want out but don't yet know where to go. I'm prepared to run, but toward what? I have to sit tight, plan, and take steps. I want to get somewhere and not just run away.

Late last night, not wanting to go to bed, I watched the old Aaron Sorkin show Sports Night, a great show any day, but especially when I'm dreaming about a workplace worth dreaming about. There are conflicts at the fictional sports show, ups and downs, but the characters love what they do, know they're where they want and need to be. They're following their dreams.

I know it's fiction, but there is a Sports Night for me. I'm sure of it.

This morning I woke late wrung out from staying up late watching the show, feeling panic and anxiety about work and my future. I got out of bed, showered, and downstairs. I unloaded the dishwasher, made lunch, brewed coffee, and sat to write this. I'm late and will have to hustle and I'm going to a job I don't dream of, but I'm building up steam. I feel better than when I woke, closer to Sports Night and farther from that helpless depression I felt last night after coffee and the talk with Mom.

I worry that I'm somehow going to lose everything. It's not likely. When I fall into those spins I pull on the stick and level off. I'm already climbing again, up past grey clouds and rain, into the blue, and the horizon stretches to forever. There is no place I cannot go.

All that just for getting up and writing on.