Sunday Morning . . .

I have only been at work for 2 hours, it feels much longer. I was going to hang out in the living room to watch election stuff with the guys, but there are 2 couches and they have occupied them both. So I will return to the office to write this and then go read in the dining room - at least it shows that I am moderately invested.

Anyway I was standing outside while one of the guys was out there smoking and it is this perfect crisp, or cold really, morning and the trees are all kinds of beautiful colors and somehow it made me think about how my life has been worked out.

I used to be a morning person, not that I am grumpy in the morning or anything, but like I could wake up in the morning and experience the day. But why was I this way? Because I had an early morning job. In fact so much of my identity and life is based on these jobs - time punctuated by employment. And for many years by the men that were in my life.

I have a pretty good memory, up to about 2002 when I was taking a medication that turned my brain all swiss cheesey and poor Jason had to put up with a girl who couldn't remember that we went on a vacation for my birthday - there would be this hole and I would say, "Hey, how come last year we didn't do anything for my birthday?" And he would say, "Heather, we went to Catalina, remember?" Once prompted scenes of that trip began to reveal themselves. Like how someone remembers childhood - once triggered snippets and sometimes whole stories come back.

Well, about those punctuations. I know myself by titles - sales associate, coffee girl, assistant, receptionist, probation assistant, youth worker, psych tech, manager, group leader - most of these are not correct titles, but these significant pieces of my life are wound around them - for better or worse. I can see my successes and failures. Dissapointments are often easier to see but really just in my last full-time job. I don't like who I was there, but I also always saw the worst in everything - it was pathetic. I like who I was in most other positions. I was cheery, excited, sometimes drained and negative, but more than not I was invested and not just because I HAD TO BE, but because I wanted to be. I loved helping kids, which meant actually working with them. I loved being an assistant - some would think that odd, but I got to make sure that my boss was happy and doing well. I loved to learn new things. I was not "management material" because I didn't want to be totally in charge. I wasn't ready and I was so burnt out on life and had no rejuvination because I didn't work with people. Especially younger people, even with struggling lives they still had these glimmers of hope in the most dire of situation - well not so much that last one I worked with, but I still believe that there has to be hope for her. Because I have to believe it and I want to believe.

I remember so much about those experiences - vibrant memories of emotion and relationship. The smell of coffee, the different presentations of me - fashion, demeanor, walk, talk, style.

Anyhow, this is already so long or I would move on to those other punctuations. How they were more of my view of my "self" than an actual internal self. I think I finally got me one of those - an internal self. I like it. It is how we are supposed to be.