I just found out that I will officially be reporting to my old group, (thus, my former boss) when I return to work on Monday. Thrilling news (I loved reporting to Leslie and greatly respect the work of the team), but it certainly threw me for a loop.
When I was let go, I pined so deeply to return to my old company, my old group, my old desk (check out this entry) I actually inhibited my own forward progress. I probably spoke to too many former colleagues about too much work stuff, too often and wanted so desperately to be part of this fantastic group again, I got myself in a knot. The only way to move on was to really let go.
That didn't mean not speaking to these people anymore; that would have been nearly impossible - they are my work family. But I did release any hope of being part of the team and I moved forward, feeling healthier all the while.
Now, I am heading back, reporting to the same person but doing very different work. We'll call it returning to the neighborhood. Well, I can't mull over the situation too long, I suppose, as I have been known to be a tad analytical (I can see my girlfriends rolling there eyes right now) - okay, yes, chronic over analyzer here. Today's' college dating patterns will turn any gal into a damn gumshoe. I digress. Familiarity will bring some comfort while I work out new challenges. In the meantime, I need to get a drug test.
What is that? You must pee in a cup? Indeed. Since I have been gone from the company more than three months (ahem, whose fault is that, ahem) they want to make sure I haven't gone off the deep end, blowing coke and rockin' the gange. No, no, dear company, my dismissal only led to a few too many happy hours and three packs of cigarettes.
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