Now that I've given word I'll be leaving my current position, everyone has been incredibly kind about stopping by and lamenting my departure. (Some just go straight to the jugular with guilt.) And the funny thing is, I'm a talking head. I have my speech down; I react as I should. But the truth of the matter is, I'm in absolute and total denial.
And this is how I've functioned the better part of my life. All my family and friends know I survive this way. My best friend told me matter-of-factly, "That's how you always do things." And she's right. For instance, I went through all the motions of preparing to study abroad in Australia. But part of me, the part that seeks to protect myself from disappointment, kept me from believing any of it really was going to happen. If you'd been sitting next to me on the plane as it took off for Sydney, though, you would have seen the walls crumbling, the look of sheer panic in my eyes, and the rapid breathing of one who believes she's just ruined her life.
This same mode went into full effect when I got married, we bought our house, and moved to Chicago. I'm great at making sure every detail is taken care of while my head skips off to la-la land where it hides until those very first crushing moments of reality tear me back.
So I've begun cleaning out my cubicle, trying to obtain my college transcripts (which are annoyingly needed when I begin orientation for the new gig), and letting all my sources know of my pending departure. I've been working ahead, albeit half-heartedly, for an issue I'll never see through fruition. And this whole time I'm insanely in denial.
But stop by at about 8 a.m. on December 19th if you want to see the entertaining reaction when that river runs dry....
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