choosing to hope

I picked up my dry cleaning on the way home from work today. What makes this event noteworthy to me (enough for me to term it an "event") but may escape others is that I was so happy to be performing what is normally considered a mundane chore. Let me explain.

Today marks the first time I have picked up clothes from a dry cleaner in a few years. Now the sad part is I've worn these clothes, but I just haven't had them cleaned (well ,that's not entirely true. I have cleaned the shirts, but the blazer and suit have not been to the cleaners probably since the end of the Bartlett Presidency on The West Wing). Let me also add, it's not quite as gross as it sounds. I've only worn these items maybe half a dozen times in that period (so it's still gross, but not quite BBC America How Clean in My House gross).

The reason for my unhygienic behavior? I think it was simply I just didn't care enough about myself to bother. It's the same explanation for why I had not worn these items much even though for the majority of my career, I'd always worn a uniform of suit (or jacket and nice pants) and tie. However, in my last job, such attire was not really necessary except on some rare occasions. Plus, the environment (both physical and cultural) was such that my motivation to look like a professional had eroded to a point that it was thinner than Lindsay Lohan. I reserved the urge to "dress the part" for really special occasions, which, within the hellish experience I call my previous job, became harder and harder to identify. So the reason for my happiness today is that I discovered that I was now in a place (both physical and emotional) that I actually did care enough about myself to attend to me.

Does that mean I am now in some type of career nirvana? Not really, but I do find myself confronting an interesting pattern of behavior. My current situation is starting off in a very promising manner, but I also am dealing with thoughts of, "well, that's how they always start and then they go to sh*t." It appears that past experience has trained me to fear the worst, but experience has also taught me that fear is not where I need to be dwelling. So, I choose to hope -- that life will work out, that I can be fulfilled by my work, that I can know and express love fully, that at the end of my days I will close my eyes at peace with my God and the life I've lived knowing that I have done all I can do to fulfill my purpose on this planet.

Emily Dickinson wrote, as an explanation of her choice of poetry as her means of expression vs. prose,"I dwell in possibility." To which I simply add, make room for me Emily, make room.