Life is weird sometimes. You get stuck in your routine – your sometimes super mundane, not-even-particularly-enjoyable routine that you don’t even notice because it is SO routine – and then, when you are shocked out of it – and we are talking electric chair shocked out of it – you are completely at sea.
Sorry – did I say “you?” I meant “me.” “I.”
I feel like I’ve been in nonstop transition since last July. In some ways, even earlier than that, but I feel like my 29th birthday was the start of a particularly transitiony time (that’s a word and we’re sticking with it).
Leaving my job, moving away from the Bay area, leaving almost all of my friends, death and illness in the family, and trying to figure out who I am when I haven’t been told explicitly what is expected of me by someone else has been, in a word, exhausting.
I can’t believe how tired I am.
There are good sides, of course: reconnecting with all of my in-laws in Colorado (this is, thankfully, not sarcasm: they are great), taking on meditation as a daily practice (heretofore unseen and unimagined – nay, abhorred – in this life of mine), and, I guess, if I am feeling particularly wise (which I’m not, really), being shocked out of my happy little comfort zone. As difficult as life in the Bay sometimes felt, I had my people a stone’s throw away. I had a successful career that was basically handed to me (although I worked my butt off for it). I had wine. Always, I had wine.
I’m cooking again. A LOT. Really good stuff. I’ll share it if I have the energy, which I may not. Otherwise, a follow on my Instagram stories should tell you most of what you need to know. But it’s bringing me joy, and that’s what’s most important.
A friend recently commented that she had almost missed my transition to Denver entirely due to the fact that I had been conspicuously absent from social media since the move. It was interesting to hear someone else notice this. I had indeed made a conscious effort to take a step back from social media (and, in some ways, most communication), due solely to the fact that what was in my brain did not feel share-worthy. Nobody likes a bummer, amirite?
Well, I may not be right, as it turns out. As I’m starting to learn, sometimes it’s important to ask for help. As much as it might seem like our struggles are on display to the world when we are suffering, people often have no idea. And when they don’t know, they can’t help.
I feel incredibly fortunate to have family and friends who, when called upon, are rock stars of support. And allow me to be clear: they aren’t mind readers. Nor should they be. That isn’t their responsibility. But stepping up and asking for help these last few months has been one of the most important things I’ve ever done. Oof, learning lessons is humbling.
I didn’t really have a goal with this post, other than to start writing again – because writing is so important to me, and has been so neglected – and to kind of say: hello, world. I’m sticking my head out of my shell. Checking the temperature out there. Looking for signs of life. Showing that I still have mine, and that I should be living it.
So, hi. ❤