Every once in a while something cool will happen, and I think, "Hey, I know who would understand what this means to me."
And it's you.
So, thank you for being a good audience. :-)
That being said, I think a few of you might wonder whatever happened to me after I quit working in radio. The posts got kinda sparse after that.
So, this is not necessarily the funny today.
You are welcome to skip it if you're not a vested reader. It's cool. I get it.
Warning if you stay: There is rampant rambling ahead.
I used to work in radio. It was my life's dream. I lived it, breathed it, ate it, did it in my sleep, with my eyes shut, with one hand tied behind my back. Every thing I did in it was second nature, a habit, a comfortable rut. It was so familiar, it was easy. Radio is what I was, inside and out.
Maybe I grew smart, or maybe I grew old, but after a while I realized I was putting way more into radio than radio was giving back. When I stood up for myself and stated that I deserved more, I was told there isn't any more, and I should be happy I was getting anything.
What I got after that... was out.
I left radio for an internet television station where they taught me social media and SEO (search engine optimization). Fascinating stuff! NEW stuff!
After a year, the company ran out of money and folded.
I was lucky enough to get picked up by a website design company that had an SEO department.
This was an odd hire. I was originally supposed to be a part-time, five-week temp for a specific project. But the owner, on my first day, said he'd like to see if he could keep me on permanently.
That... was... great... but...
He barely knew me. Why would he want... me?
I was in a very low place at the time. I had divorced radio. My new affair had fizzled.
I really had a hard time believing anyone would want me.
When the opportunity came and the permanent job was offered, I took it.
That was a year ago. I have since learned oh so much about SEO. I know stuff you don't even know exists. I speak a language my own husband doesn't understand... and he's the guy who finishes my sentences with me.
More NEW stuff! Fascinating!
Now, this all sounds like old Roses landed on her feet pretty good. Perhaps leaving radio was the best thing she ever did, and maybe she should've done it a lot sooner.
I'm still not sure it was what I was supposed to do.
Leaving wasn't a wrong thing, but I think there might have still been some more things I was supposed to do there. In a the-universe-works-in-mysterious-ways kind of way.
I feel I was a pathway between two things that were supposed to come together, but I shifted, and now that path can't be traveled.
Hm. That's a little deep.
Let's just say I feel there's something good I'm supposed to do, and sitting in an office making clients' websites rank higher on Google just isn't it.
I went back to school last spring. I think the job I am supposed to have is at the end of a 4-year degree. I don't know what it is.
Currently, I'm a college junior. At the rate I am taking classes (while working full-time), it will take me 6 years to finish the second half of my four year degree. This amuses me.
This semester was supposed to be an easy one.
I signed up for 1.5 classes. An Intro to Public Relations class, and a half credit Phy Ed class.
But because this semester seemed so easy, I also signed up to test out of a required speech class.
AND I auditioned for a news anchor spot at the campus television station.
So, during this "easy" semester, I have after-work activities four nights a week.
I am surviving only because I tell myself it's only temporary. It's only until Christmas.
After Thanksgiving break, there's only three weeks of madness left.
I can do it.
Oh, that Phy Ed class?
It's self defense basics.
I can use that, right? Smart choice, I'd say. Better than, oh, Archery (which I really wanted but it wasn't offered at a convenient time of day) or Bowling (which I can practice any day for a couple of bucks rather than pay a university half a grand).
The punching. The kicking. The falling. The getting up.
Each week has been brutal!
I've never worked so hard for half a credit.
At least I'm learning stuff I can use.
I passed that speech waiver, btw.
I might have been a little cocky being someone who's talked in front of people for a living for 25 years. At one point I joked to friends that even if I wrote a crappy speech, I'd deliver it so well they wouldn't notice the speech was missing anything, and they'd pass me anyway.
Well, that's almost what happened.
My speech lacked a couple important elements, but the professors to whom I presented had enjoyed hearing me speak so very much they did not want to fail me.
They should have.
But they didn't.
Instead, they hoped I would rewrite my speech and present it to them again.
Would I please, they asked.
They had every right to kick my butt out of their department and laugh as they did it.
But, would I please come back?
I humbly tucked my tail between my legs and thanked them for the opportunity.
When I passed the second presentation, they applauded. They told me glowing, wonderful things. They said they were moved by my words.
I walked to my car and thought about who I would call first to share the good news.
But I didn't feel like calling anyone.
I was not proud of myself.
I did not rejoice.
I was only relieved to be done.
So, stuff has been hard.
My brain had not had a diet of anything new for decades. It was refreshing at first.
But at times, I crave familiar and easy.
And none of this has been easy.
And I ache.
And I'm never home.
I'm alone a lot.
I fight depression.
Interesting thing about that depression.
My medical doctor prescribed a couple drugs somewhere between me saying "de" and "pression".
I accepted those drugs somewhere between me saying "depres" and "sion". The drugs had worked years ago, and my doctor reached for the same bottle this time. What could go wrong?
The meds were not good for me this time. I don't know why. I stopped taking them after two days because the regular depression was better than the state the meds put me in. It was that bad, that quick. It took me three days to unfold from the fetal position, and the depression felt almost happy by comparison.
Instead I focused on my sleep. Which had sucked. Eggs. Royally.
Know what works? Bologna.
Two slices of bologna before bed, and I sleep like a rock.
Nutty, but true.
My chiropractor told me that if you have trouble falling asleep, it's because of hormones. If you have trouble staying asleep, it's your sugar levels.
I stopped eating ice cream and breakfast cereal for bedtime snacks. Believe me, the last thing I want to eat at night is lunch meat.
But, it works.
It works so well that the weekend I drove to Michigan to be with my dad in the hospital, I carried a Ziploc of bologna in my purse so I could sleep.
I still have bad days. When they come, I feel as if I've never felt good.
But I work hard to get sleep and sunshine, and it helps.
It helps to remember how bad those drugs made me feel.
There have been many changes in my family's dynamic, too.
Each member of the family is adapting to new "normal"s.
More change. More adjusting.
Also not easy.
Nonetheless, "not easy" is not the same as "bad".
I can see where this is all good. It's just... not easy.
It's the "not easy" that is so distracting from the funny.
I keep looking for it, though.
When I find it, you'll be the first to know.
Because you "get" me so much better than anyone else does.
And I humbly thank you.
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