Well here we are. This past year, after almost dying, leaving my job, dating and breaking up with someone I have loved for years, being unemployed for months, I'm once again a functioning member of society. Not someone who hangs out in yoga pants all day alone with her dog doing little projects for whoever needs to hire someone who can write for them or do their taxes.
I applied for A LOT of jobs. I interviewed for a lot of jobs. With the reasons I had that told me I needed a change, I was picky. It got crazy by the end. I had 13 interviews in two weeks. They were all pretty aggressive in wanting me to make a decision. I had to decide what the hell I was doing with my life. I'm 40 now after all. Halfway through my life, if I'm lucky.
I can't say enough good things about my almost 7 years at KPMG. I worked with great people. I had mentors who helped me grow. I made a couple of life long friends. When I left, I said from the beginning I wanted to work non-profit. It seems like you can take the girl out of the JWs but you can't take the JW out of the girl. I'd rather help people than make lots of money. I am doing my MBA so hopefully I'll have some great options in the future.
Still, it was hard to decide. Some companies seemed so much more exciting. My best friend was here when I was in the middle of all that craziness (cause he's always here when I need him) and he was like, "Margaux, you know what you want to do. Do it." I pretty much played Russian roulette with my professional life and I think I dodged a couple of bullets.
It was the right decision. I'm 9 days straight in and I'm sure of that. I'm exhausted, but sure. There is one drawback to my almost perfect new job. The company next to us - there's a JW who works there. We used to be friends. I'm non-profit now. All the offices on my floor share a bathroom. So I run into her. She shuns me. I gotta say, I don't know if I'll ever get used to it.
They make a big show out of it. Look straight at you - look appalled - look away with their head down. Walk faster past you. As happy and grounded as I feel, it still shakes me. It's still makes me feel bad about myself. It still makes it harder for me to walk tall and be proud of my decisions in life. Even though I am.
What do they think is going to happen if they look at me? That I'll suck them over to Satan's side by making eye contact? Maybe I'll just have to go to the bathroom at Starbucks across the street now. Or find a way to deal with it.
We were friends for years, but I can't for the life of me remember her name. It got me thinking. It will be 8 years in June since I was disfellowshipped. I'm starting to forget a lot of things. I'm forgetting my JW family. I see my mom and sister in pictures in my head. Not in video. It's snapshots, not a movie. Worst part? They will never say something. They just disappear, shun. It's okay, Jehovah told them to do it.
I'm at about 20% of my life that's post Jehovah Witness. It's going to take me longer to fix myself. But my therapist thinks I've come a long way. :)
I still wish they could say something though. Like, maybe...goodbye? Something that would give me the closure I still crave. Now that I work in an organization that deals with palliative care, I understand how important the "goodbye" is to the family members and close friends.
It's important to me. I didn't get that opportunity. My mother has said a lot. Mostly about how I'm a sinner, how I'm going to die at Armageddon and how much I've hurt her by deciding to live a life different from the one she choose for all of us. But it's never the goodbye, the closure.
So, I officially give up. She called Grandma when I was there at Christmas. I answered the phone. She knew I almost died and she couldn't even say "Are you okay now?". My mother. Couldn't ask if I was okay. She couldn't hang up on me fast enough. To be fair, Jehovah probably wouldn't like that. Jehovah doesn't seem like a very loving or accepting God to me. I'll go with no God and put my faith in the Universe to work things out. The Universe makes me nervous, but she always comes through in the end.
This is me, phase 2. It's not the end. I've been gifted with a new beginning. I promise to make the most of it.
Sullivan out.
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