2020 has been big, long, uncomfortable, too hot or too cold kind of year. This year has taken us all through literal storms of grief and despair. I’m lying if I say that it’s been the worst thing that happened to me; quite honestly, it might have, for these reasons, been the most necessary era I had to go through. I paid my dues in the SNF for a year and a half before I knew for sure I needed to get out. Yes, like an episode out of Jordan Peele’s repertoire. OUT. The plan was just about set and ready, absent of me actually having a decent job replacement. I wanted to travel for 6 weeks in a part of the world that gives me the good kind of shivers. I was sure that things would figure themselves out. An act of God or a pursuit of the devil, I truly don’t know. But March came, then April, then May, and leaving a job when so many were struggling to keep theirs, seemed more selfish and stupid than anything else. In my Tattletales, I walk through far more detail of this period of strife. I lend it to ALL of that, that I got good and ready to completely flip the switch. The events leading up to my resignation were interesting, twisted, and confusing. I don’t think I’ve ever put in a two week notice before, less a full 30 days. These 30 days were the longest I’ve ever experienced. From the outside, it seems as though nothing is going on. On the inside, I have a plethora of doubts, a constant replay of everything leading up to this point, unanswered questions, feeling like I’m walking down a twisted stairwell with a blindfold. This is unlike me. When it comes to a job I hate, or even one I like that’s just not meeting my needs quite as well, I have no problems signing off and saying my final toodleoo. Why were things so different this time? I left the building with tears in my eyes and fear that I felt in my bones. Come my first Monday as an unemployed (well, partially employed) SLP, I was just happy to sleep in. Then the Monday after that, I came really close to using my “hey big head” line to get my foot back in the door. Toxic relationships die the hardest. Mondays have since been really smooth, and it helps a lot that I make my own schedule. Nothing at all beats that. I say all this to say, fear nothing but a comfort zone. “Timing” and faith are all we have but they are not equals. When I ran out of patience waiting for the right time, I just relied on what I had left. So far, so good.