I am surrounded by a distracting amount of clutter that I cannot see through - things I want to sell, things I want to donate, things I want to keep - all piled up, all messy, no space on any floor. But I was keeping my Certainty - everything is fine, the right place will come up at the right time. And the more apparent resistance I receive, the more I feel as though it is truly going to happen.
Until my Dad came to pick me up Saturday afternoon.
Now, don't get me wrong, I love my Dad to bits and I can see that he loves me. The only reason he gives me a hard time is because he worries about me and wants to know that I am sorted. And to a greater extent, with the exception of everything else that has brought me to where I am today, part of the delay in my decision to change my line of work is due to knowing that my Dad - with his staunch Protestant Work Ethic - just wanted me to 'stick with what I am good at' (because that's what you should do) and earn an honest crust. I have a need for his approval.
He doesn't get the whole spirituality thing. He doesn't see the need for counselling, or positive thinking, or understand the energy of the Universe or all of that fluffy stuff. So for the past 3 years his only line of conversation (when he is not dragging me in to an argument about the European Union - something that he is passionately against) has been around whether or not I have a job.
In fact, one time he even rang me up and stated "Hello, Have you got a job yet?" as his opening line. Hey Dad, I'm very well, thanks, how are you? I replied.
When he arranged to come and pick me up, I explained that I was focusing on moving and doing the work for W, building my CV, ready to earn once I have moved, etc. "You can explain all of this in the car" he said.
So I did. An hour of telling him my plan for the next 3 weeks and my focus thereafter. I said that the aim was to get all of my ducks lined up and as soon as I have moved I could start taking action on finding work - that if W wasn't able to pay me by then I would be going to the agencies. He even took the longer route back to his house so that we could talk more, and during that time I explained briefly how low the last 3 years had taken me, and what state of mind I had been in after the New Year.
I told him what my preparations were for looking for work. Yes, I need to get work. Yes, I need to have income. Yes, I will be looking for work just as soon as I have moved. I was agreeing with him. Yes, Dad, I will be sorting out my finances. Everything is going to be okay.
It made no difference. My Dad just couldn't leave it alone. Here are some extracts of his line of approach over the next 24 hours:
"So tell me more about this Business Gym then."
"When are they going to start paying you? Couldn't you get a job with them?"
"So you are still going to the Kabbalah Centre. Tell me what that is about"
**KR does her best to wrap Kabbalah 1, 2 and 3 in to a nutshell, to a man who believes that humans are no different than cats, based on the super-intelligent (read: manipulation) of his own cat, without getting in to an argument, and failing**
"Yes," he eventually says "But can't you get a job with them? You spend so much time there, when are they going to start paying you?"
"So what is W's new business all about?"
**KR explains with enthusiasm, even though this was all covered in detail in the car**
"But when is she going to start paying you?"
I think if I had told him that I had taken someone's dog for a walk the other day, he would have asked whether the owner was ready to sign me up for a proper contract, or whether the dog had any pocket money.
Eventually I was on the verge of losing my temper, after not being able to make my point - or rather, I was on the verge of losing my temper because my plan for the next 3 weeks relied heavily on Certainty and Trust, but what he wanted was Evidence. And as I couldn't provide that, and he continually asked for it, I could feel my Certainty being slowly chipped away.
Even after I had finally snapped and shouted "Argh! Dad! Will you just STOP bloody going on about me getting a job! Enough is enough! Let me just bloody focus on moving! Jeez!!" he paused for a couple of seconds, slightly injured at my outburst and said: "Weeelll... I still just think you would be best off finding a proper job"
There is only one way to do this. Get through the next 3 weeks in one piece and prove to him that I knew what I was doing.
It's going to be a long 3 weeks.
Funnily enough, I have not been able to get this Harry Enfield sketch out of my head since he dropped me off at home. (Cannot find it on YouTube - so cannot embed...). Ah, the power of humour...