Old and New

The last day at The Store was hard. Much harder than I anticipated it being. I was sobbing when I left. I wrote the staff a letter and posted it on the bulletin board, so hopefully they will see it before the store manager takes it down because she's a bitch.

I took my keys off my arm for the last time, locked them in the safe, and felt like I had just dropped a piece of my identity in the trash. It was awful. I cried all the way home. Thank God Omar was home. He took good care of me. We went out that night to meet some of the people from work for a drink. I promised them I would check in every now and then, make sure everyone was doing okay.

It wasn't awful like I thought it would be. I know my staff will miss me and I definitely miss them. But it was so hard to walk out that door and not feel like I was leaving a piece of me behind. Even thinking about it now, and knowing I'm going to work somewhere else, it doesn't feel real to me. My whole last day I kept thinking it was a joke. But it wasn't. I left, for good, and it's hard. It's still a little upsetting.

Lost and Found

Happy, happy, happy!

The police found my car. It was abandoned in the town next to mine and it's only missing everything inside it that was personal (CD's, a screwdriver, a fork, my cell phone accessories, etc). Everything else was still there, except the ignition. So here's the crappy part: my insurance company's not paying for it because it's less than what I have for coverage. I pay $65 a month for insurance, someone steals my car, and I have to pay for the damage. What about this is fair?

Then I think of all those people on the Gulf Coast who have nothing and I feel horribly guilty and selfish for whining about having to pay $217.65 to get my car back. (Not to mention labor costs, see there I go again being totally selfish and self-absorbed!) Anyway, I donated so money to the Red Cross at a Tim McGraw concert last week and I'll probably donate some to The Store's Associate to Associate Fund, which gives the money directly to people who work for The Corporation so they can get help.

It is past midnight and Omar is not home from work yet. I needed his help tonight, which sucks. The bank says I am $80 overdrawn. I finally balanced my checkbook tonight, for the first time since May, and my checkbook says I'm $755 overdrawn. I don't get it. That's a pretty big difference and I don't know where I made the mistake. Am I only $80 short or $755 short? Did I forget a deposit somewhere? I must have. But I don't know where. And if I forget it, I probably forgot it like six or seven months ago. I needed Omar's advice on how to proceed, but he was working at Evil Job and is now going to be cranky. Damn it.

Re-read Bridget Jones Diary for the umpteenth time. My novel, which started out as chick-lit, has merged into something else. I don't know whether to be pleased about that or alarmed.

Omar and I went to the florist on Saturday with my mother and picked out flowers for the church, the bridesmaids, the groomsmen and Omar and me. Am I horrible bride for confessing that I don't give a crap about the flowers? I mean, who gives a damn? No one at the church is going to be looking at flowers. Omar's cousin said to just do something simple; she said the only people who will notice the flowers were her mother and mine. My mom didn't think that was funny when I repeated. I love Omar's two cousins from his Mom's side. They're both hilarious.

Better go to bed now. Will call Omar once more before attempting sleep. We haven't seen each other all day. Now I'm cranky. And I have to get up at six thirty.

Three more days to go at the Store.

This Sorta Fairytale

Sometimes, I look at the Object of My Affection and I just marvel at the fact he picked me. Frankly, I don't think he's getting such a bargain. When I say I have been crazy lately, I'm not kidding. I've even considered buying a pregnancy test because I've been so hysterical lately I thought it might be a hormonal thing. But I switched my birth control pills a couple months ago, so that might be it, too.

I had a panic attack at work the other day. Full-blown crying, shaking, nausea, clammy and sweaty skin, feeling faint. It was horrific. I haven't had one of those since I was a teenager. Even then, they weren't that bad. It was my job that did that to me. I was walking into work and completely fell apart. Just lost it. And I realized that was it. I was done. I could not work at this place I once loved so very much.

I grew up there, at The Store. When I moved here, I didn't have anyone to lean on except Omar. All my friends from college were at home or back at school and I didn't keep in touch with anyone from high school. I made friends there, good friends who I've kept over the years. I developed new friendships there with people who've become like family to me. I got to be a real professional there. I put pieces of myself into that place, with the hours I worked and the care and thought I put into my job. And to hate it so much these past couple months has just broken my heart.

So I interviewed with a company that I think will be good for me. New Store offered me a job and I took it. I gave my notice a couple days ago and God was that weird. My staff is genuinely sorry to see me go. Which is nice, because I love them. They're good kids. Now I have this new opportunity coming to me and I'm not as excited as I feel I should be. I'm just so relieved to be leaving my job that I'm glad to be going somewhere new. I don't know that I'll love it at this new place, but I won't be having panic attacks, so bonus there.

So what with the panic attacks and the weird crying jags and the obsessive need to suddenly be near Omar all the time (I spent Labor Day sleeping at my parents' house and was completely incapable of being away from Omar when he walked in the door Tuesday night), it's not surprising that I feel like Omar's getting the raw end of the deal here. But tonight, when I got home from work and saw him laying on the floor studying, I just felt this rush of relief, this feeling that everything will be okay from now on because Omar and I are going to be fine and happy and married.

And I remembered why I wanted to chronicle this time between wedding and engagement. To remember how good it made me feel to be getting married to him. He's the best person I've ever known and he makes me want to be better too. I feel like with him I'm almost the person I think I am. I think we all keep this vision of ourselves in our heads, a vision that's not entirely accurate. It's the person we want to be. I know in my head I'm like twenty pounds thinner, confident, and successful. I'm self-assured and calm. With Omar, I'm all those things (except the 20 pounds thinner part). I wonder who he thinks he should be. I like him the way he is.