I noticed two things today.
I got a call this morning from an HR person at a company called Senior Helpers. A couple of weeks ago I was riding this strange high about rejoining the caregiving community. My soul's knowing place spoke up and nudged me into giving it a voice. I talked to Sweetie about it. I talked to my senior friend about it, to my writing group and my priest friends. Everyone agreed. I'm not psychotic. Listening to my heart is different from hearing voices.
I toyed with the idea of starting my own business. I also thought it would be good to investigate some caregiving and schools. I filled out an online application. I felt confident, secure, brave. When I got the call for an interview I agreed to work for $8.00 an hour, even though it seems like a paltry fee. But I've got to start somewhere. Even though I may have a bunch of experience, I don't have any credentials, certificates, or references. And with that little tiny opening crack of insecurity, I noticed how quickly all my fears and anxieties came rushing forward and last night's tears started to fall again.
What if I'm not good enough?
What if I AM good enough?
What if she doesn't like me?
What if I don't like her?
What about my commitment to other people?
Who do I think I'm kidding?
Call. Schmall. Remember how hard it was to take care of your daddy?
And on. And on. And on.
I can't let this fear run my life. I won't. But I gotta tell you, this is not a fun place. One foot in front of the other, Merry ME. That's all you've got to do today. Tomorrow will take care of itself.
Where oh where does all this negativity come from? How can I go from high to low in the course of one phone call?
To combat the anxiety, I went to the church to put away baby shower gifts. It was busy work. Keep moving work. Sorting and holding soft cotton baby clothes can calm most any fear. I stayed focused. Didn't let my mind wander.
Let me re-phrase that. I stayed focused right up until the time I threw my cell phone along with some trash in the dumpster. Damn I hate when that happens. Unaware, I started to drive off. Thank goodness before I got out of the parking lot I had a feeling I'd left the phone in the locked room. I turned around, retraced every step without any sight of my phone. Since it was missing, I couldn't call it to follow the ringing. My last guess was to look in the dumpster. Using a stick to poke under some paper, I spied the phone on the bottom of a week's worth of trash. When I say bottom, I mean the very bottom, as in sitting on the cold and rusted metal. My poking stick wasn't long or strong enough to fish it out. Where's McGiver when I need him? Or Sweetie? Attempting to hoist myself I noticed my arms are not nearly as strong as they used to be. Suffice it to say, they did not do the trick. It looked like retrieving my phone would require an actual swan dive. I needed some height.
This is not the first time I've had to jump into a dumpster. When I worked for my friend Pam in San Diego she often had me going into places no one else would venture. But I was younger then. Eager to please. And had a few muscles.
Thank goodness someone was working in the church office. She laughed when I told her what I'd done, handed me the broom and suggested a chair just in case. The broom didn't work worth a damn. The chair turned out to be my saving grace. It raised me high enough to get one leg up and over the edge. I didn't hear anything crack but I'm pretty sure I stretched parts of my body that were never meant to stretch. The actual phone retrieval proved easy. Getting out of the dumpster no so much. Maria stood by ready to call 911 with my now-germ ladened phone, while I pulled the chair into the trash with me and reversed the procedure.
At first I thought "what happens in the dumpster, stays in the dumpster," but what's the fun of having a blog if you can't write about real life? If Jon Katz can post a picture of the urinals in a public bathroom, I suppose I can write about dumpster diving. As disgusting as it is to climb into a dumpster (and I have to say it could have been WAAAAY worse) it reminded me of something else to put on my resume - willing to go the extra mile. But thank God there are no pictures.
I think I need a hot shower,