moving right along
It’s kind of insane to think that I just finished my second week at my new job and am rounding my third. I’ve finally finished up training and am getting some more responsibility.
I’m fairly thrilled with what my manager has given me so far. One role is brand new to me, so I’ve gotten to play student. It’s a geeky science thing, too, so I’m loving that. I also am going to be taking on some things that are pretty much right in my comfort zone, so it’ll give me a chance to prove myself and impress people. I will be helping out a coworker with some things and will also be taking on four really high profile projects that will let me show off my skills while allowing me to do what I really love most. I pretty much can’t wait to be busy. I’m really grateful that my manager seems to trust me to do a great job with projects that are so important to senior leadership.
It’s been a big change. I don’t think I’ve ever had two full weeks of training before. I’ve never had an assigned mentor. I’ve never gotten bonuses for volunteering for committees and just doing my job. While we’re all mostly virtual, it feels very welcoming and interactive. It is still awkward, though. New jobs always are until they know who you are. Unfortunately, constant training doesn’t exactly bring me out of my shell. It’s been difficult to be my naturally friendly self. I’m hoping this week changes that.
It’s kind of weird for me because I’m really not used to being so supported. I have tools that I’ve always wanted–that I sometimes paid for personally just to do my job. Management seems genuinely interested in me as a person and wants me to explore my passions. And the pace is so much slower, but also more focused on what’s important. So, it’s busy in a way I’m not exactly used to–but in the ways that let my strengths really shine.
So, all in all, it’s been great for me and I’m hoping for a smooth transition.
But I’m also learning how that old environment sort of distorted who I am and created habits that don’t work well here. I’m learning, oddly, that taking care of myself isn’t just good for me. It’s good for business. So much of what I do involves people, so keeping myself happy means that it’s easier to do that people piece. I’m also noticing that things are a lot less regimented, so I have to relax a lot more. Which means a lot less fussing about silly things.
I needed this change. So much. My job, in the past, drove me crazy and reinforced so many toxic behaviors in me that truly hurt my well-being. I left, finally, because I was worn out. I knew I didn’t have the emotional stamina to do it for much longer. Or maybe I did. I just didn’t want to. It got old.
That said, I am feeling a lot of pressure to perform while also juggling a lot of stress. Our big move to the Bay Area is looming. I’ve chosen not to mention it to my work peeps, for now, since I’m not sure when it’s happening exactly. But it makes the whole “what are you doing this weekend” convos all the more awkward. I’m not trying to be secretive. I just don’t have many details and don’t want to even go there till things are more definite. Especially since it means taking some time off.
My roommate is actually leaving for the Bay today, so this weekend has been unusual. I weighed in on a lot of clothing choices yesterday. He was a flurry of activity, too, trying to get things handled since he’ll only be back home sporadically until the day we finally go. I didn’t get much of what I intended done yesterday due to debilitating migraines that left me in an exhausted heap of nausea and light sensitivity. I feel better today, but a new weird thumb-size bump has appeared near my occipital lymph node. I’m thinking I must have a sinus or ear infection. I took some stuff to hopefully rid me of such things, and it seems to be smaller today–but that bump is sore. But no horrible migraines, so far, today.
Luckily, we have some time. My roommate will be out in Mountain View to start his new job this week. He’s in temporary housing (thanks, AirBnB) that seems pretty cool and is a real bargain for the area. He’ll be home next weekend and will be out here every few weeks to help pack all of it up. He’ll be scouting neighborhoods and securing our next home over the next several weeks. It’ll be a while before he’s actually able to make any moves, though, due to how his relo is managed. And we have to put together rental portfolios so we can actually grab anything good. We have a lead on a place that a friend of mine lived in when he relocated, so we’re hoping that’s a viable option. In any case, we can’t exactly do much about it for a couple weeks. The market out there is difficult, so it may be a while. Our goal is to be out there together by July.
In the meantime, there’s a lot of purging that needs to happen. And I’m not just talking stuff. Though we’re planning on getting rid of a lot of that, too. It’s amazing how our homes reflect our lives over the years and how they either support or reinforce things in your lives.
I’ve always been fascinated by how the places I’ve lived have defined chapters of my life. I actually haven’t lived in very many places. I tend to stick around. I guess you could say, by the time I leave a place, I’m usually more than ready to go. I’ve only ever lived in Westwood and Cheesman–well, except for my travels.
Westwood, in a lot of ways, was like a black hole for me. It was a place filled with ghosts and dysfunction. It held so many happy memories, but the tragedies I suffered there often overwhelmed me. I felt trapped there and stuck. I couldn’t seem to move forward and everything felt like a struggle. I wanted to leave for quite a while before I actually did, and then, it really only happened because my mother died. I just couldn’t be there anymore. So, despite years of trying to go, it only took me a month to leave after I decided, once and for all. Leaving was traumatic and freeing at the same time, but also probably the easiest in terms of my moves. I fell in love with the first place I saw. That place truly supported me and played a central role in my healing. I sort of rebuilt myself from the inside out and found a life I wanted to live in. It wasn’t fancy, but it felt like home. This neighborhood felt like home. And then, life got crazy and it felt a lot less like home. I had changed and needed more than that little studio could offer me. I was ready to go when some unforeseen events gave me the final push I needed. But it wasn’t ideal and sidetracked plans I had to leave Colorado for the east coast. I ended up moving a block away and was laid off a week in.
This apartment and that move was a blessing and a curse. I wasn’t ready for a larger move, honestly, and I had unfinished business here still. I was in real emotional terror from the get-go, due to the job loss. I was also reeling from an important relationship’s end, and I needed to find my sea legs again. I needed to be myself again and to be alone for a bit. For me, this place has been a rest stop of sorts. A place to dump all the stuff you’ve accumulated over the years. A place to go through crap and see what’s worth keeping while bringing in more stuff. A place to heal and face things while also falling apart.
It never felt like me. It was never home. It was a place where I dealt with suffering I thought I’d abandoned when I left Westwood. When my roommate moved in, it felt even less like mine (due to my own weird stuff).
Let’s just say I haven’t really been happy here. It was necessary, but not ideal. I never really got a chance to be me here. And I suppose how I feel about this place is how I’ve felt about my life for the last five years. It’s been a period of biding time and enduring rather than being happy and thriving. I even had a naturopath suggest I sage this place to get rid of all the bad energy here. Don’t get me wrong–there have been glimmers of happiness here and there–but not in any kind of way that stays. Everything here has felt difficult and just too much work.
I suppose, Denver–in and of itself–feels very much the same. And I can say the same about my life. In an odd way, I’ve felt homeless inside myself for a while. It’s no wonder I disliked living in this space in this city that used to be so comforting. The truth is–I’m a different person now–and just getting by doesn’t cut it for me anymore. In an odd way, over the last few years, it’s felt like I’ve been living someone else’s life. Some unfamiliar life that I never would have chosen. That I kinda got stuck with because of fate and bad choices. A life I outgrew. A life that didn’t support me in being the person I needed and wanted to be.
This move is different because there’s no inciting incident–just me choosing differently. So, it’s important to me to choose things consciously. It’s important to end things here in a way that honors the past but also sets me up for a better future. So, when I leave, I’m going to be leaving those dysfunctional parts of myself behind. I’m setting up routines and making better choices. I’m getting rid of things that weigh me down and choosing based on what’s right for now.
I’m learning that it requires faith and partnership. I can’t do it alone, and I wouldn’t want to. And it’s scary and hard. And it requires me to choose myself over being comfortable. Nothing about this is easy.
As much as that place will influence my life from here on out, I’m actively in the driver’s seat. I feel like I’m in a really good place where anything is possible if I’m just brave enough to try.