Time Warp Tuesday: Advice

Oops–it’s Thursday.

Here we are again, the second Tuesday of the month and it’s time for Kathy’s monthly blog hop called Time Warp Tuesday. This is an opportunity to revisit some of our favorite posts from the past and see how far we’ve come since then.

This month’s theme is advice. I knew I’d written plenty on advice, and I thought I’d surely choose to share more derision of our court-appointed counselor. But no; instead I chose this post.

A post on the consequences of advice; the consequences of decisions; tue consequences of actions.

A lot has changed since the time I ignored all the advice I was given and bulldozed my way through.

Because last weekend, I went back to work. At the place I thought I burned my bridges and even rerouted the river three years ago. Okay, so it’s only been a few days, but it’s different than it was. And different is good.

I wanted to go back because I missed the job, and I missed how I felt when I was working there. I wanted to be part of a team again.

And yes, I know I’m part of a team with my family, but it doesn’t always feel that way. Sometimes I feel like a third wheel in my own home, and I hate that feeling. It feels separate but equal, even though my head knows I’m not equal.

It’s hard to deal with sometimes, and I wanted an escape. I guess I could have just brought Lappy up to the library every day for some novel finishing time, but this is paid escape. It doesn’t feel so much like running away.

But what does this all have to do with advice, you may ask? A few things, here and there. It’s different now, being back. It’s actually about me, not me in my poor situation. Most of the advice givers are still around, but it’s almost as though they’ve forgotten whatever advice they had to give.

It feels like three years ago to me, because I don’t have any of that intervening time to cloud my memory, but it really has been three years for them, and I’m old news. It’s such a strange feeling. Nobody even seems to remember why I left; what they remember is my skill set.

I wrote my post last year while out of the loop, with their superior words still fresh on my mind. I’ve learned that I can forgive and forget, as easily as they can simply forget. No, they can’t take those words back; they’ll always have been said. The difference is that I was able to distance myself for long enough and far enough that it doesn’t matter anymore. It wouldn’t matter if most of them said the same things today, because I have taught myself that I don’t need them. They’re not important enough to hurt me like they did before.

I am more than that. I am more than one choice or one mistake or one job. I am a whole person.

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