I called my supervisor at the National Park Service to tell him that I have received a conditional offer of employment locally and that I won’t be returning. I found out on Friday, but only now contacted him because I am nervous. I know that the remaining background checks will clear, but I will continue to feel like this until I receive the final offer. Why did it take me days to make contact? Again, nerves and being a worrier, but also because this puts him in a tight spot. Staffing is often bare bones in the park service and he might not be able to fill in behind me for the season. Due to unforeseen events it won’t be as busy as expected for a while, but this still feels like an act of betrayal. This is the end of my career with the park service and wearing the green and grey uniform. Time to hang up the flat hat.
I may have mentioned this before, but I hate change. Switching from one park to another can feel like that, because it often happens at a time when it is difficult to fill that gap. Most supervisors understand the score, though, and are eager to see a ranger advance or to have the new experiences found at other parks. There’s also the prospect of learning something new, which I find exciting and unnerving.
Going from an established routine to a new challenge worries me to no end. Feelings of failure, of inadequacy, and particularly going into something so different from previous experience is honestly terrifying. Without my meds I would be an absolute wreck right now. As it stands, I am still shellshocked at the prospect of getting what I have craved. No more moving. I get to set down roots again. I will be able to afford to move into my grandparent’s old house. My parents can sell this old, crumbling trailer I live in. It’s all so surreal.
Damn, I just remembered, there will no doubt be some travel soon. Since it’s a state job there will be periods where I will have to travel to Frankfort for training. No pressure.
Another random thought is that I can convert one of the bedrooms into a study. I can have a dedicated work space while leaving the living room to be what it should be, rather than how I live now with my living space almost entirely situated in the trailer’s living room.
So many thoughts popping up at random and just waiting to be processed. Paramount of these, those, is that fear. A gnawing terror that it could all disappear. One day at a time.
Thanks for stopping by, as always, and take care of yourselves, my friends. See you next time.