I'm not going to say that everything went perfectly. Nor will I say that it was a horrible mess. Neither would be true.
My first day at my new job was many of the things one might expect from an adventure--new roads to navigate, new customs to learn and cultures to adapt to, excitement, oddities...and homesickness. Let's skip the part where I showed up 15 minutes late. Let's forget about the part where one of the seamstresses sewed through her finger. We'll even ignore the part where after 3.5 hours of training, I was tossed into the sea, left to sink or swim (spoiler alert: I slowly dog-paddled to safety.). Any way you slice it, I got to spend the day surrounded by beautiful fabric, creative people, and a sense of emotional freedom that I haven't felt since...I can't remember when. Still, as soon as I left the studio, the tears came and I couldn't hold them back. While I wandered around the Potrero Hill area, looking for the car I had parked this morning in a panicked frenzy, I cried. While I drove to the kiddo's soccer practice to catch the last 20 minutes of scrimmage, I cried. While a was getting attacked with leaps of love by the dogs, I cried. While I recounted the day's events to friends and family, I cried.
But now, as I record it all, sitting quietly under a gigantic full moon in my own backyard, the sobbing has subsided to mere sniffling. And even that is fading away.
Let's review. Today was my first day:
>at my brand new job as an office manager/pillow maker at a custom upholstery shop.
>as a full-time employee in over six years.
>commuting to San Francisco, not to mention that it was well before I would have normally been taking my 1st grader to school.
>actively living my life as a regular person who does not make decisions solely based on how many more months a neuro-oncologist (and statistics in general) told her she likely had left to live. Four years ago. And, for the record, he was way, way off.
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