Gun-shy

I’m temporarily in-between temp assignments. Yesterday, having bought groceries and filled the gas tank, the question loomed: “Will temping be enough?” So last night I perused the want ads for permanent positions; there are possibilities.
Admittedly, however, I’m a tad gun-shy. This is for good reason: for years I’ve been bobbing and weaving around red-hot bullets.
I don’t relish again being tethered—buying a membership without knowing the soup du jour: What will it be? Cranky Coworker? Social Sinking Ship? Narcissistic Nut job? Dealing with warped egos is above my pay grade. After Round One of that nonsense, I examined it—even self-published a book on the subject. So you’d think I’d see it coming—but, Ding-ding! Round Two!
A year-and-a-half later, now happily on hiatus from the hooligans, I feel like a jilted lover, cautious of re-entering the game—with fear of getting burned.
Oh, sure, these experiences have made me stronger: I can spot red flags, can persevere (through a lot), and know where my freedoms lie. Nonetheless, it’s a query: on one hand, there are jobs available. On the other hand is the “Don’t wait till it’s too late” logical fallacy of exigency.
In those previous scenarios, God gave me strength to endure for the long haul; so I know He can do that. And when it came time to finally disconnect from toxic tempers, blinded blunderers, and graceless goofballs, the Lord was faithful there, as well. So I can move forward with assurance and faith.
But (with a big stick), I’m walking softly. If I’m not yet ready to jump in with both feet, I think it’s okay to wade awhile.

 

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