Thursday morning, around 10am, if you'd seen me walking down Regent Street, I'm sure you would have decided I was just a little bit unhinged.
You see, at 9.30am precisely, I handed my boss my letter of resignation. I managed to just about suppress my joy until I walked away.
Ten minutes later, I skipped merrily out of the office on a photo shoot, grinning from ear to ear. It felt amazing. I felt liberated and like a weight had been lifted from me. Suddenly, I was no longer frowning, no longer preoccupied with what the bullies thought of me, or what their next move was going to be.
I'd seized back the power, while maintaining the upper hand. I refrained from expanding on my reasons for leaving, was careful not to burn any bridges. But inside, I wanted to hurl petrol bombs at those bridges, I wanted to destroy ever last timber, smash every brick. But I didn't. I was gracious and serene in my resignation. I even refrained from hurling petty insults.
Instead I shall trust in karma. I'm pretty sure my resignation sent a big enough message, and if it didn't, I'm past caring. I'm outta there!
In exactly 1 month, I'll start my new job with a new company. It's the same type of role, but a much nicer working environment, fewer bullies (i.e. none) and more grown-ups (so fewer strops, tantrums and general childish behaviour - I get enough of that at home).
My smile lasted all day, only enhanced by a lovely trip on the London Eye. *sigh* Photo shoots eh? It's a tough job, but somebody's got to do it.