That little voice: ignore it at your peril

I have, over the last 25 years, as I've mentioned [link to https://steemit.com/introduceyourself/@fionasfavourites/6ndjsc-the-journey-to-a-new-chapter!], been self-employed, and that has meant being a self-starter and doing a lot of disciplined self-management. I have been known to lament that at times, I've had the worst boss ever. That said, she's also the best. That's me: the typical Piscean paradox.

I was also fortunate to have worked in a mostly collegial way where team leaders who were my bosses and contractors were respectful of my contribution. They treated me as a peer.

Right. I started this post a month ago and was very angry and hurt. The hurt has abated and so has the anger.

All very cryptic but in a nutshell: I had agreed to take on, for a pittance, a role, for someone who purported to be a friend. When the arrangement was being discussed, the comment, "I hope this doesn't ruin our friendship", should have been salutary. I chose to ignore it. We had never really been more than acquaintances. It would not be too great a loss if that happened.

I didn't, though, believe that it would. At the risk of repeating myself, all my other working relationships had been mutually respectful and collegial and some have lasted for the duration of my working life, becoming lifelong, dear friendships.

One is never too old to learn that to ignore that little voice is to do so at one's peril. It soon became clear that there would be nothing collegial in this arrangement: I was merely the hired help only good for trans-national micromanagement, with nary a word of thanks or encouragement. Rather, a focus only on what went wrong - and there wasn't much of that - and communications that were only directive, starting daily at dawn, and ending after dark. That little role wasn't supposed to have been my day job, either, but it became virtually all consuming.

Anyhow, with the parting of the ways, it's not the loss of friendship I mourn, it's the loss of a certain equanimity in the household. That, though, is returning as I am beginning to push out of the proverbial brown stuff to emerge - not like a mushroom, which is how I felt - but rather like a fresh green shoot on an old, established vine, ready for a new venture.