Fears and Cheers

So today was my debut as a "public" consultant. I led a workshop for reps. from eight different community development groups on grant writing. It's not rocket science, I know, but I was still pleased that the only "negative" comment was that the workshop was too short. I'll take that kind of criticism any day of the week. Perhaps this will mushroom into something more; perhaps not. Either way, today was a good confidence-booster. Let's see what tomorrow brings...

Five Months and Counting

Hard to believe that I've been "retired" from my job for five months and have yet to look back with regret--or to look back much at all. I'm tempted to ask myself who robbed me of my essence when I wasn't looking and replaced me with a facsimile who doesn't second guess her every move. But perhaps I was just so ready to be gone, to give myself a break, a time-out of sorts. I think that's probably why I have yet to look over my shoulder wondering what I might be missing, or if I made a mistake.

It feels like much and little has happened since I left. In short order I was offered a several month consulting gig (through the end of June), asked to join two nonprofit boards, had one essay accepted for publication, and was encouraged to turn another into a longer, "reported" piece. I've also been struggling mightily with how to handle A and the concerns we have about her. She's been quite vocal lately about feeling left out, unliked, and friendless. It's just torture for me to hear that, and I try not to project my own childhood memories and lifelong insecurities onto her, but I can't help seeing something reflected in her moods and her struggles that just screams out to me from my own past, and even from my sometime present.

I'm still trying to figure out if therapy--and what kind of therapy--might help her. We're having her evaluated through the school district and are quite seriously considering bringing her back to public school in GN. We'll make that decision by month's end.

My sorrow about my father continues to rear its head, though I think I did something he would be proud of in getting Sam to play at our synagogue's Yom Ha Shoah commemoration. Sam wrapped himself inside of Max Bruch's Kol Nidre in a remarkable way. And he told me that his leg didn't shake when he played (as it always seems to when he performs solo). I told him that I thought Papa Jack must have been resting his hand there to steady him.

Wish I could say that I've made progress with my mother. I haven't. I know I should, but there's just a mountain of anger, disappointment and regret that I can't seem to get over or around.

I'm out this evening to dinner with two girlfriends and tomorrow, instead of thinking about Altman business, I can think about who might show for the second parent support group I'm hosting (decided to start one now that I'm home), and how A will do during her evaluation at school. Life still has its obligations and challenges, but they feel more like ones of my choosing. And I'm very grateful about that.