Well, I'm pretty sure I'm in my final week of being off work for my foot. I have been doing so little for the past 6 weeks that pretty much the only thing I could have written about would have been my woes about not being at work. When I look back to what I have accomplished during my time off, it seems like I should have done a whole lot, but I really did next to nothing. Of course, I've been trying to keep off my foot and allow it to heal, but that's probably no excuse for my son's bedroom being a complete pigsty and the rest of the house having 1/4 inch of dust everywhere.
I went to lunch with my dad and aunt Sharon last week. I hadn't seen Sharon for a while and was filling her in on my foot. Dad told Sharon that I'm looking into changing careers to something less physical. He then went on to state that I'm "taking it very well." Uhhhh... I don't think that is true at all! The truth is that I am completely devastated! I love being a zoo keeper. I love working at a physical job outside. I absolutely love working with the animals! There are certainly things I don't love about my job, but most of those things involve something going wrong with the animals (illness, injury, old age, death) which is extremely stressful sometimes, but ultimately makes the job more meaningful and special.
I have needed most of my time off to just process the thought of leaving the zoo. I've had very productive days where I've made phone calls and gone to appointments and worked hard on my resume. They are usually followed by days curled in my chair, doing only what I'm absolutely forced to do. I'm not very good at showing emotion or letting people know how I really feel. I hate drama and really don't cry or rant or anything. My plan as of this second is to go back to work next Sunday and work until at least January 30th- my work anniversary date when my retirement vests. If my foot is perfectly fine, I will continue at the zoo for a while and give myself more time to research (and hopefully find) other jobs. If my foot is bad, I will probably quit soon after my anniversary date. I'm certainly no closer to finding another job than I was 6 weeks ago, but I'm in a lot less denial and have a lot more ideas. I'm not there yet, but I'm slowly coming into acceptance. I know I'll eventually be okay. Seriously, scooping poop is not the only thing I can do.