In The Time of Coronavirus…

Resigning after working 3 years at a job I thought I would retire from. Moved up the ladder every year but alas, through internal transitions, resignations and new hires, I hit the glass ceiling of the most uncomfortable kind. The glass is thick and stunts my growth.

My wings are clipped like a bird trying to fly as its’ owner tries to bend self-determination into submission. I would like to blame this on the time of Coronavirus, but no, it was happening long before.images.jpeg

So, I’ll be unemployed like millions right now trying to survive financially in financial uncertainty. My unemployment is of my choosing, for at times it is better to be sane than having anxiety control your life and taking meds to undo the control. Those who are unemployed due to business closures in the time of the Coronavirus had no choice.

It makes me laugh at times how I planned to do some soul (alma) searching after the resignation to find my new path in life but, “life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans”. In the time of Coronavirus with isolation and working remote from home, I have plenty of time for alma (soul) searching.    

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Daily routines, like the gym, trotting in Prospect Park, taking long walks with Katie (greyhound) no longer exists. Instead the routines are replaced by unhealthy eating, Doritos, Chardonnay and…BACON!!!

If we make it through this, I will reap the rewards of gaining unwanted pounds of fat. This I will blame on the time of Coronavirus.

As there is always positives in negatives, I picked up my knitting needles, got frustration and picked up my crochet needle. I am reading while eating, watching CNN as if I own stock and breaking up daily cat fights.

As the Game of Thrones, cat style has yet to be resolved. I wonder which of my four cat owners will sit on the throne?

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Is it okay to go just a bit crazy in the time of the Coronavirus?

Home bound in the time of Coronavirus or…Bored.

How Fate looks like.                                                   What Fate looks like to me.Unknown.jpeg

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What Tara-Habby looks like.                         What Tara-Habby truly is.

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What Winnie looks like.                               What Winnie looks like to me.

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Who Big E thinks he is.                                                        Who Big E is.IMG_0918

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Who Katie thinks she is.                                                         Who Katie really is.IMG_2335.jpeg

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How I think my furs see me.                                      How they really see meUnknown-4 12.57.45 PM.jpeg.

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Once or…one time only.

Once,

I dated a Boy who loved me and whom I loved.

This sensitive Boy was a poet who composed songs with fragile words on a guitar.

I,

was the girl who recorded black and white visuals of everyday life on an Olympus camera.

Alas,

the Boy needed care in ways which depleted my heavily guarded plethora of emotions.

Drained,

the guard broke, and I left, taking my reserve with me.

The Boy,

recovered, found strength in his songs with fragile words on guitar and now tours all around the states.

His followers,

follow him in awe of the songs with fragile words on guitar.

Once,

I dated a boy who looked like Sting.

This boy,

was an aspiring editor who cut through slices of life with no remorse.

I,

was the girl who recorded black and white visuals of everyday life on a Nikon F3.

I,

married the boy who didn’t love me but loved what I offered in terms of him moving ahead.

Sycophant,         Image result for sycophants

is what a co-worker once called him.

I,

did not know what the word meant and looked it up in hardcover bound dictionary.

Sycophant,

suited him well for he used people for his own benefit.

The Boy,

who composed songs with fragile words on guitar was far more truer to himself.

He,

reached for the stars when they were out of reach and grasped a bunch that paved the way for his travels.

I,

self-sacrificed my recorded black and white visuals of life on a Horseman 4×5. For no one said I was good enough and I was not true to myself.

The boy,

moved on, to a sycophants’ ultimate dream of scoring one who had connections that would propel his self to a lucrative outcome.

Pity the boy could never relied on his own strength and worth.

That or Which or…What did you say?!

I work at a place

that promotes peace and self-determination.

I work at a place

which is anything but peace and squashes self-determination.

I work at a place

that practices a means for communication and conflict resolution.

I work at a place

that due to its shaky beginnings creates chaos, bad morale and internal strife.

I work at a place

which strives to be about diversity, inclusion and opportunity.

I work at a place

that recruited diversity without knowing how to relate to peoples of other races,lacks knowledge in what inclusion encompasses and due to funding lacks opportunities for growth.

I work at a place

where staff are at times, treated like the characters in “The Help” minus buckets, mops, brooms and dustpans.

I work at a place

which allows a false sense of hope in terms of promotions and breaking that glass ceiling.

I work at a place

that gives the allusion of breaking through a glass ceiling and moving upwards­–while in reality–the only movement is lateral with added responsibilities.

I work at a place

that is in dire need of micro aggression repair and reconstruction, involving staff, those who supervise staff and those who should not supervise staff; those who are clueless to culture nuances and those who fall into an economic cushion which does not include eating dollar ramen for a week.

I work at a place

that has new leadership, new structures and systems in place, grant proposals, new directions and staff training that will take this organization to its fullest potential.

I work at a place

where I respect the CEO, the undertakings at revamping an organization in need of restructuring, the hard stance on change and acknowledging what was not acknowledge for so long.

But alas,

I can no longer work at this place.

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