Since the move is imminent, I decided yesterday to tell the other receptionist who runs the desk with me (Sandi), and my manager. They’ll need time to replace me and I just couldn’t hold it in anymore. I really enjoy the other receptionist and felt guilty not telling her. We have a lot of fun together.
This morning I came in and within half an hour 4 people asked me about moving. I never asked Sandi to keep it quiet- I always assume pople understand my need for privacy and operate on the same standards, but people never do. Sandi is outgoing and loves to talk and is really sad to see me go, and I think she talked toeveryone in our office about it.
All day people drifted past the the front desk, casually prying into a subject which is simultanesouly devastating and exhilerating to me; it is deeply personal. They don’t mean anything by it, it’s just conversation, confirming office gossip, but I’m overwhelmed already and the last thing I need is to answer the same questions over and over all day.
“Yeah, it’s a really great career oportunity…”
“We’ll be closer to our little nephews…”
“My husband’s family is down there, so at least we’ll know people…”
“Of course, it’s bittersweet…”
“Yes, South Carolina IS very pretty…”
It all sounds so hollow. What I keep wanting to say is that it’s none of your goddamn business, and get out of my face. I believe intellectually in the joy I’ll experience eventually, but I feel nothing but sorrow. I’m confused like I’ve been adrift at sea for weeks and I can’t tell what’s right or left or up or down anymore.
I went to the doctor today and told the receptionist we were moving in about a month when she asked me to schedule my next checkup. She said, “Oh, cool. That will be fun!” I wanted to pound my fists on her desk and yell at everyone in the lobby. “WHY DOES EVERYONE KEEP SAYING THAT?!?!?! Look at my eyes and tell me again!”
Then the doctor asked me to schedule a vaccine, and I had to tell her that I won’t be here long enough to receive the full series. When asked about our reasons for leaving, I gave one of my standard answers, “My husband’s family lives down there.” She asked where my family lives, and I told her how I’m a fifth generation Colorado native, and that almost all my family is here still. She responds, “Wow, that sounds hard for you.” Understatement of the century. I’m mourning and grieving and weeping inside. I want someone to mourn with me, to look me in the eyes and say something sincere. To hell with “good luck”. Good luck doensn’t mean anything. I want to know that my heart is understood. Someone tell me it DOES suck, and it IS painful, and it’s HARD to see how beauty will come of my ashes.