The Nature of Controlled Endings

 

Nothing particularly relevant to Disappearing today - I've eaten reasonably well, though an outrageous number of grapes. No walking today - no time.

Today was the last day of my current job. And unlike the previous two full-time gigs, and (now that I think of it), it was a controlled ending.

Controlled by me, I mean. Every ending is pretty much controlled by someone, but the last two full-time jobs I've had have been ended by someone else's decion.

The last one was one of those juicy "We'll give you loads of money to quietly fuck off" deals. Voluntary redundancies, I think they're called, despite that being a semantic fig-leaf to cover the truth that you're being canned. Ten of us - a whole department, were canned "voluntarily."

That's still a shame to me, because it was the best gig of my career. But the money came in hugely handy, and I was lucky to land another gig at just the right moment. Which, if you're going to do a thing, is a highly recommended pathway.

But man, was there sweating and graft en route to that happy ending.

Ironically of course, that happy ending is the role to which I'm saying goodbye today.

There was nothing particularly wrong with it, it's just that the one to which I'm going is more...me. 

More authentically me, I guess you could say.

Which feels timely. 

This whole Disappearing thing came on us by surprise this time, but you can't end a whole decades-long pattern of behavior by accident. You have to control the ending. You have to choose a pathway that - if it hasn't hitherto been more authentically you, has to be from here on out. You have to find a peace with that in your mind, or you'll fall at the first sweet-craving or hunger-pang.

Make no mistake, there's more to do. We need to see what d's new medications are, and get them, and start her taking them. We need to work out a way of doing regular blood testing, whether it's needle-pricking or something newer and more technological and less hurty and more expensive. Or if there's some middle way - whatever happens, we need to start testing.

Other things, too - I have yet to forsake my nighly bowl of cereal, for instance, which of course is a ludicrous habit. Another choice to make. Another controlled ending.

Neither of us has yet to cut out fizzy drinks, though a) d's cut her consumption right down, because she's sensistive to artificial sweeteners, and so is still ont he full-sugar version, and b) all of mine are diet, though I'm aware that's not really ideal either.

As I say, there are stages to this controlled ending. That, I guess, is what "controlled" means in this context.

And if you want to push the metaphor even further - and of course, I have no sense of subtlety, so let's - by the time I start the new job, we will, in all probability, have a new government. A deeply controlled ending of 14 years of chaos, venality, asset-stripping and deceit.

Yeah, you're right, I'm reaching now.

And on that note of closure, enough for today. A wekeend of writing, reviewing, and ideally walking awaits. A weekend of controlled...beginnings, if you like.