I feel like I've crossed over some kind of threshold. Into some new place I haven't been before that feels foreign and strange but also really familiar, as if I knew I'd be here all along.
I feel like I'm closer to my dreams now, living in the other side of my very-close future, looking back at everything I've gone through to get here
living in the past, in repetitive cycles of stuck-ness and how-I-got-here, and spending all my energy leaning ahead into the what-ifs and seemingly impossible future.
I'm here now.
I'll tell you: that line that I drew for myself? That I was so sure of? It didn't happen like I thought it would. I drew my line for the end of June, I wanted to quit my job by no later than June 30th and be out of there for good. I see now that I wasn't totally sure it would happen (example, I had too much fear of sharing it here, afraid I might jinx myself or look like a fool) but wanted so badly to be out of daycare that it didn't seem likely I could mentally manage a day into July.
Then I was offered a job. I took it. I gave my two weeks notice. And when did she want me to start? June 29th. Bingo. It appeared I'd be ducking out of that daycare job just in time for my line to appear.
I must have known at the back of my mind that something was off because I was afraid to tell too many people, bubbling with excitement inside and yet holding back. That was when I wrote this post.
A week later, the woman emailed. She'd changed her mind. It had been great to meet me, though, and she was sorry.
Slam. I hit a wall. I cried. I felt discouraged and depressed and walked about life in a fog for at least a week.
But the beautiful reality was: I'd drawn my line. And it'd happened. Regardless of whether or not the job worked out, I'd quit. I'd given my bosses my two weeks notice. It didn't end up well and it wasn't how I ever imagined it happening, but nevertheless, it did.
And so even though writing this now makes me shake my head in indignation, I chose to take back my two weeks notice. I willingly went back to daycare. That was a hard, hard day.
Now here I am. Living in the ebb and flow of being grateful for a job, and wanting to quit on the spot.....feeling like I can handle riding out the summer, and feeling totally devastated that I'm still there.....finding joy in the easy moments, and trying not to cry angry tears in the staff bathroom.
But that spot of finding moments of joy -- that's where I want to live. That's where I feel good. That's where I feel most alive and full of possibility.
And plus -- I've drawn another line, a soft etching in my heart born out of desire and joy, as opposed to stoic determination and angry deadlines.
I've made a small shift, from By the end of the summer I will quit my job to I want to move this fall.
And oh my, what a sweet shift to have made. I simply want to move. I want to live in a bright, sunny apartment. I want my own space to live. I want a kitchen all to myself. I want a new city. I want a job with a salary and benefits. I want new connections. I want to have fun.
You know those moments, when a simple mindset shift is all it takes? Suddenly life gets a little brighter and the tightness in your chest loosens up a bit and you find yourself taking a deep deep breath, involuntarily. Living in those shifts feels so good.
I've come up on three years of living back at home with my parents. Two years longer than I ever thought I would, and three long years of adjusting to a life I never thought would be mine.
As for the shift I'm making.....I'm saying good bye to these past three years with love. Fleeing slowly. Looking back on them with gratitude for the soft, safe landing I'd needed as a college graduate and ditcher of grad school. It's been three years in a womb of healing, right here in my childhood home. I've lost count of the times I've lost my patience with being here and sharing a bathroom and cleaning up dog pee and shooing my sister out of my bedroom and my mom texting to see when I'll be home and being factored into a bigger family unit, whether I wanted to be or not.
But as I've made this shift, suddenly everything seems a little brighter, easier, softer.
I've been exploring apartments for rent and have fallen in love with one, an open sunny space with so many windows and hardwood floors. Available September 1st.
I've taken to finding small windows of time at work that don't feel so horrible anymore, that I can shift into moments of gratitude and of saying farewell. I can't even count how many diapers I change every day, and now I'm transforming those minutes into moments to breathe deep, to move slowly and take my time, to let my coworker care for the other seven children as I focus on just one (just one!), giving them care and attention and deliberate movement, at least for while they're on the changing table.
I've gone from worrying myself sick about money and paychecks and my car breaking down and how I'll ever be able to afford rent, to I'm so grateful that I have a credit card to throw a $300 car repair on. Thank God for that credit card.
Subtle shifts, but so so powerful. This is where I will live. This is how I will say goodbye.
Fleeing slowly. With love.