||[Jun. 28th, 2010|07:01 pm]
Isn't it always this way? I was just about to invite folks over for drinks to celebrate stepping down as chair, and I need to meet with the new chair on Friday to do the update. Not Wednesday. Which is a little bit annoying, but I'll be happy to step down after that. So maybe Friday night instead.
Friday we interview a potential teacher for Psych 001. Then go over all the stuff that she'll need to know to get through the summer.
Feeling very weird today. Working and feeling a little low. I cleaned my dresser off, though. Cleaning my room is one way I have of cleaning my mind, my life. You can usually tell my psychological state by looking at my room. Right now the bed is made, the floors are clean, things are dusted. I can breathe again! But there are bags of little stuff lying around. Stuff from Den of Desire. Stuff from the semester. I'm just getting to the point where I am actually putting things away and moving things out of the room that don't need to be there.
I'm trying to not figure out why I feel this way. That's my goal, to not know. Because when you do not know you are quite a bit closer to the truth than if you think you do. I wish Alfonsox was here, because it would be good to do some inquiry. Maybe I'll ask Fattest when she's done with work.
There is part of me that is really sad about not putting all this down on Wednesday. But also part of me that understands that I can't really just dump it all, like what happened to me. I am going to have to have some real boundaries around this, because it is going to be hard and the new chair is going to actually have tons of questions. Questions I'll do. But I need to not do the work of it.
It is harder to put down than I thought. It becomes a habit. And everyone wants to encourage that habit. But that habit is not good for me. I want to plan my classes. I just got invited to review another article. And I still have that database to work on. As I am typing this, I can hear my research calling me. I can hear the whispers of the new way I am beginning to write as art, turning story into memoir. And even more quietly, I can hear the nearly silent calling of the piano, reminding me that my summer is supposed to be about me.
I haven't had a lot of training in how you put this down. Like the sessions in the Den of Desire, there is this movement out of that connected space. The moment where you and your client laugh, and thank each other, and begin the move back to just being attendees at a conference. It literally feels like I back out of their energy. But there is an agreement, a closing, and then a parting.
At work, there is no agreed upon closing. There is this reaching out, a desperate kind of confusion. The refusal to open the closing. How to exit without an agreement? I will figure this out, just like I have figured out everything else.
I feel like I need to hand something over on Wednesday, and not wait on everything else. I can get together the things that I need to hand over and send them by e-mail. I can hand over advising, with the policies that the department has agreed upon. At least that will be a marker that I am no longer chair of the department.
Then I just need to meet with the adjunct to discuss their observations, and finish up any outstanding advising situations. I have already said that I'd help with JT's computer and hold his hand. But I'm done doing the negotiating for equipment.
The budget is done. Everything we ordered has been delivered. I need to write an e-mail requesting for a particular budget structure to the Dean and then that is finished. The schedule is the chinchilla that needs constant grooming. But once this new course is in place, I can hand that over, too.
I'm realizing it is not clean, like opening a circle or leaving a client. It is the fine extrication of each finger and toe from a web of responsibility and connection. I am backing out of a social role, and all the requirements. No longer the heavy, the mama, the mediator, the advocate. All the things that make the world run smoothly, but that no one ever notices.
So yes, this is still my last week, and that is how I need to think about it.