Blog Post One:
A Momentary Forgetting
This is my first blog post, "A Momentary Forgetting." (I'll let go of the thought that it should be profound.)
Leaving work Friday, I saw an amazing site: on the far horizon, a cluster of clouds that were "backlit" by the setting sun. In the foreground was beautiful farmland, devoid of people, dotted with a few cows. For a few minutes, I lost the melancholy feeling that our Oconee Campus would be subsumed in a consolidation in four months. Change is something I expect and accept, but the upheavals associated with the consolidation of Gainesville State College with North Georgia College and State University have distressed faculty and staff to a significant degree. (Not sure if students care.) Would we have jobs? Would the campus be closed? Would we have a voice in any decisions ahead? Questions remain.
Also, people are leaving, one of whom has been a trusted confidante -- a special role in a place where confidences are rarely kept. It's especially important to me to be able to share private thoughts and know they will go no further than the friend who is listening. I'm a person who eschews gossip and is committed to keeping confidences -- not only because I'm a counselor, but also because discretion and confidentiality are extraordinarily important elements of respectful relationships built on trust. I will miss my work friend and her dear husband.
I named the blog Hawleywood on Hallways for a few reasons, not the least of which is my affection for a saying I heard more than a decade ago: "One door closes and another door opens, but it's hell in the hallway." Transitions are difficult for most of us. Those difficulties are essential for growth, however, and I'm acutely aware that much of what is ahead for us on the Oconee Campus has the potential to push us toward more self-awareness. Maybe all of us have the chance to ask questions that are important. What is happening that is pushing my buttons? Is it the sense of helplessness? Does this remind me of anything else -- am I helpless in other aspects of my life? What do I need to address this discomfort?
I find myself reviewing the decisions I've made over the years, back when I was much younger and sought-after: not accepting offers at the University of Nebraska, University of Alaska-Anchorage, a charming Colorado program, and more, and leaving some wonderful positions in Flagstaff, a woman's college... Not believing in regret, it's difficult at this point not to review what my mentor, the late Conrad Fink, said when I made the decision to leave the University of Georgia: "Can't you just make your niche here?" He was right that the position was a good one. Yet, it didn't feel like the right fit anymore -- in fact, it felt that some essential part of myself was being smothered.
What next? Does this consolidation call for "soul-searching," a review of Right Fit? I think so. At this point, I'm back in the hallway. Hoping to walk it with Zen sensibilities.

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