In Need of Happy Feet
It is no secret that my writing has stalled over the last month. I was making a transition between a sit down job where I was tethered to a keyboard and phone 10 hours a day (call center) to a stand up job working 8 hours on my feet. I was excited to make the change. I had worked at grocery jobs in the past and this would be working in a grocery store deli. My feet were not as happy as I, however.
I was kept awake at night by spasms and fallen arches and weird pains all the way up into my pelvis. My 40+ year old body was angered. My feet felt brusised and I began to limp. I am a hiker and beachcomber. I was not able, even though now I had the time, to get to the woods and journal. Now I was marrooned to the couch and elevating my feet. I would wake in the middle of the night unable to hobble to the bathroom without excruciating pain.
I thought. I am a whiner. There are women working here (the store) with sore feet and they have stayed for years. The difference is what is and what isn’t acceptable to me. I have choices. They, too, probably have choices but are not used to looking for openings.
Not wanting to call in sick repeatedly and not wanting to inconveince my fellow employees, I gave my two week notice. I have gone down to a handful of hours. Paid what bills I can into September. And have again taken a leap to the next thing.
To transition I am going on an artist retreat of sorts. On Thursday, August 29 I am traveling up to Ramblin Rose and Keweenaw Krayons . I will be staying at the Bed and shared kitchen, gardening, writing, snapping photos. I will stop at my favorite Greenhouse. Do Tai Chi by the waterfalls. Visit with my son at Michigan Tech University. And attend a poetry reading and gathering of the Gyspy Pie Society. Then head back for two days at Blue’s Fest .
What comes next? Working as a substitute teacher. Writing my book. Being a grandma.