One week in Boston down, is it okay if I say 103 weeks to go?
I've been trying to write a post all week that doesn't come off like the whiney spoiled brat I think I am being right now but I've finally decided that it would be very insincere. And although I don't always give you all brilliance or insight, I do try to bring you sincerity. So here goes...
I love my job. I work in a big cool building on the waterfront that is full of beautiful design space and fabulous views. I belong to a team of people who are smart and creative and strategic. Our little brand has an inordinate amount of potential and the full support of an innovative parent company. The first day I felt completely overwhelmed but by Friday, I know this place is going to be a great home.
But then I have to leave and go to my actual home. And home is not my sleepy little beach town anymore. Home is not taco tuesday and lazy runs down by the water. Home is scarves and deadbolts and crowded subways and eight inches of snow. It reminds me of this dream I have sometimes where I somehow decide to be a full-time missionary again. Even though a mission was exactly the right experience for me and I wouldn't trade having gone for anything in the world, when I find myself out there again I have a complete panic attack until I wake myself up. That's how I feel right now in Boston. I went to church today and it actually started to unnerve me by the time the sixth or seventh person said, "wow, I am stunned to see YOU back here." Well that makes eight of us pal.
I've been having this debate with myself for about a year now-if forced to choose, would I rather be blissful at work or blissful at home? I realize that the real answer is duh, both. But for quite sometime I was not happy at work and it was affecting my ability to enjoy my real life. I guess we'll see if loving my job is something that can carry me through until home really feels like home.
Let me be clear. I can pinpoint the very moment when I knew something major had to change in my life and as a friend pointed out, it was not very long ago. I know that I am extremely lucky to have gotten the job I did, as quickly as I did, with very little effort on my part. Even my interview process, which was certainly nerve-wracking, was relatively smooth compared to my normally high strung standards. So I know I'm in the right place. I know I'm going to get over all my nerves. I know it's not fair to this experience to hold it hostage to my disappointments from the last time around. But change is not easy-even good, positive changes. When I moved back to California last time, I moved right back into a comfort zone. A comfort zone where I was extremely happy and had lots and lots of fun and was definitely the place for me to be for the last few years. But it was time to make some progress and I can already see a million little things I have learned in this process.
So yes, I am homesick. I'm only going to feel a little bit bad about that. Not being homesick would mean I wasn't very invested in my last life and I was. I'll let myself feel this for a little while and try not to be too embarrassed about it.