I’ve been told forget my old job and move on – make a clean cut, as they say. But I just did that with marriage and it’s not getting easier to forget things as life moves on. Not even close.
So here I am packing, trying to start anew, again. But half my stuff still smells like my ex husband, reminds me of my former job, or some combination thereof. Shall I play along, not remember any of it? Yikes.
I’ve been told my smile is infectious, mostly by people who make me smile. I’ve been told I’m good at hiding stress, mostly by people who help relieve it. I’ve been told so many things; I hardly know when to listen anymore.
When I want something, I attack it with a ferocity that slackers cannot understand.
I want very much to move forward. I don’t want to forget the past. I don’t consider failures to be mistakes. I don’t consider different to be wrong.
Someone dear once told me – “You don’t have to do it the way everyone else does. Do what works for you.”
I listened.
If the only kitchenware I feel like keeping is a greasy waffle iron, so be it!
