As I mentioned in my Facebook status today, I just noticed that the half-and-half in our work fridge expires on April 30th. I won't be here when that happens, since my last day is the 27th.
My expiration date is coming sooner than that of a dairy product.
I have mixed feelings about this revelation-- which is WEIRD, really. After all, I just spent the better part of three years griping about being a secretary and longing to get back into school. And now, when everything is supposedly about to go my way, when I'm finally getting to work towards the life I want, when all my effort has apparently paid off in exactly the way I've longed for...I am, I must confess, a little scared.
Someone once accused me of only being happy when I'm unhappy, of only being able to thrive on stress and misery and being completely incapable of dealing with good luck/success/positive outcomes, but I don't think that's true. I'm thrilled that, for lack of a less tired cliché, my dreams are finally coming true. But I also think I just hate and resist change--possibly to an wider extent than most people, and most definitely to a wider extent than all the other hyper-liberals I know--and even when I know it's positive and moving me in a wonderful direction, I tend to resist that change, because, well, sometimes change is uncomfortable.
I mean, as much as I'm sick of New York, I'm also deeply grateful for having lived here. As much as the seminary is driving me up the WALL right now, it's given me (and Adam, I must admit) some unforgettable and irreplaceable experiences. As much as our apartment is tiny and cramped and a fourth-floor walk-up (oh, my poor back! it hurts!), it's also cute and cozy and has a fireplace, and dang-gammit, we actually finally got it all painted and arranged and made it the way we wanted it! NYC finally became "home," and soon it won't be. Now I'll have to remake "home" all over again.
And as much as this job was sometimes frustrating and humiliating and boring, it was also an incredible stroke of luck. To find a job within a WEEK of moving to a completely new city and state, and to have that job be a permanent position with a salary that kept us well-fed and sheltered and alive, AND with opportunities for advancement (as much as I didn't want/resisted said advancement, when it came), is nothing short of a miracle to me, especially as I had little-to-no experience and as it was in the middle of the recession when I got the offer. And to have that job be so relaxed and flexible about stuff has been even more astonishing. Few bosses would have enthusiastically written a letter of recommendation for an employee so that she could leave the company. Few bosses would give that employee paid time off to interview at schools, and then more paid time off to take her husband to visit said schools. Few bosses would react to the news that their assistant is leaving by squealing and giving them a hug and telling them how happy they are.
In some ways, I feel guilty. I should have appreciated this place more. I will probably never again have such an easy job. I will probably never again have employers who have to beg me to take a promotion. I will probably never again have the opportunity to sit down with my boss and talk about my future BEYOND the organization, about who I am outside of my work. I will probably never again have it so good.
I'm excited for the upcoming challenges. I'm excited for the new beginning. But maybe I'm a little bit nervous, too.
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