I really can't breathe.
Waiting with indecision riding me, I wonder if I should consider a different edge to my career. Maybe I could take a new turn and try another adventure.
Unexpectedly, warning bells sounded between my ears as I tried to talk myself out of the fear that triggered when I seriously considered clicking the “submit application” button. It will only be one building over. There will only be a slight change in my focus.
Reading and re-reading the job description, I know that I once fit that profile. However, my confidence was whittled away as my duties were stripped from me. No longer one of the chosen, they revoked my ability to participate in events, in projects. There was no longer an opportunity to lead. I became a hermit, and I have grown to like it.
My shell wraps me in a false sense of security. Walls and the ceiling protect me from unforeseen threats. No one can attack me from the back. I have matching chairs, dual screens, and a functional, yet stylish floor lamp. Hanging on my wall, I find a poster that mirrors my fascination with spooky lighthouses and thunderstorms. Next to it hangs my crowning accomplishment, my college degree, Magna Cum Laude. On my shelves sit pictures and other items that remind me of home and family. Behind me is a window which I can turn toward anytime that I feel too compressed. My office is arranged according to fung shue standards. I can breathe here.
Out there, I would have the cold glow of fluorescent lighting. Exposed, there would be no protection from people. The fabric walls would not be large enough to hold my lighthouse and thunderstorm poster or strong enough to support my degree. I am not even sure if there would be room for my shelves or my chairs. The restrictions of the cubicle would require significant contortions to come anywhere close to creating a peaceful setting. The crush of the free space above and around me would be devastating.
So, I panic trying to struggle with the possibility of change. Management could throw me out of my cozy home at any minute, regardless of my job position, but maybe they won’t. If I go to another department though, I will be willingly surrendering part of my environment that allows me to stay sane.
How would I react out there? Would the distractions and reactions be too much to handle? Could I grit my teeth and grip my shaking hands until I became adjusted to the change? I don’t know. Lacking answers to these questions, my mind does not know the next move to make.
My environment should not play a factor in career growth, but it does. This panic is not rational, but it is real. What is normal about a panic attack is that it makes no sense. One's emotional state goes beyond what should be displayed.
My lungs feel too full and I cannot take in any more air without water spilling from my eyes.
That’s silly; I know.
Silly, silly hermit.
