Inspiration: This piece was inspired by a date. Or rather, a couple of anniversaries.
Timing: I started this piece on Tue Jun 25 2019 with a 30-minute write. I completed it on Wed Jun 26 2019 with another 30-minute write.
***
MONDAY, JUNE 26, 2000
From the moment I woke up, I was filled with a strange combination of excitement, anticipation, and nervousness. I had prepared my whole life for this and gone through countless hurdles to get to this point.
This was my first day at my first full-time job.
I was so young, so keen, so green. While I've never truly felt a calling, I've always known I wanted to work in an office environment. The thought of working with spreadsheets, performing analyses, and having a steady income thrilled me. Plus, working a 9-to-5 is the natural progression after graduating from business school, isn't it?
By the time I stepped into the shiny green building, I was filled with so much energy that I thought I would explode. I wish I could better remember the day, but this was years before I discovered my love for documenting life. I only recall the feeling of wanting to know what happens next.
My first day at work was full of newness. I was shown around, introduced to colleagues (including two other new grads who started the same day), and assigned to my very own cubicle -- all the things that typically happen during your first day in a corporate environment. The other new hires and I had a training session in the morning, ate lunch together, and had another training session in the afternoon. My shiny new career filled me with light.
I remember feeling at home in my new space. I remember loving my cubicle, the little magnetic sign with my name on it, my computer, my office supplies, my email address. I couldn't believe this company was paying me money to show up every day. I was confident, eager, happy. The day passed by in a blink of an eye. As I left the office that afternoon, I couldn't wait to go back to work the next day. I was so excited to start this new journey.
TUESDAY, JUNE 26, 2018
When my alarm sounded, I wanted to crawl under the covers and sleep forever. It had been this way for weeks, months, even years.
In the 18 years since I started my career, I had taken numerous classes, gone on countless vacations, bought innumerable treats for myself, moved a few times, saved up a reasonable amount of money, set up my investments, purchased a condo, dated a bunch of guys, married my favourite one, and added two furbabies to our family. I had changed jobs around a decade ago, my income continued to grow steadily, and I was treated well at work.
I should have been happy, but I wasn't.
No. Not only was I unhappy, I was utterly miserable. I felt like I couldn't be myself at work. I didn't see the point in sitting at a desk for 8 hours a day when there were so many other things I could do. I dreaded going to the office, running numbers, writing reports, exchanging pleasantries, pretending to be excited about new business opportunities. My cubicle had become my prison.
With ever-increasing thoughts of escape, I'd had the undated letter prepared for weeks. But how could I give it all up? The extravagant vacations, the Michelin-starred restaurants, the designer bags, the work I put into this career. Could I make the leap? Did I believe in myself enough to start over? What would people think?
There was a moment that morning. I had dragged myself to work and I was sitting at my desk in a bit of a daze, once again pondering the questions that had plagued my mind for so long. Why am I here? What am I doing with my life? Am I living my best life? Who am I?
The answers were foggy, yet the direction was clear.
It was quiet in the office that day, my boss was at her desk, and I knew it would be now or never. Without having any sort of plan and practically on autopilot, I started a series of actions that would culminate in me submitting my resignation letter. I opened my letter, dated it, printed it, and put it in an envelope. I messaged my boss and asked to meet. I gave her my letter. We talked. We cried. And then it was done.
One action leading to the next.
I'm not sure how I got back to my desk, but I think I may have floated. I felt a lightness, and I found my entire being filled with hope -- to heal, to learn, to experience, to begin again. In that moment, all the uncertainties, fears, and anxiety faded away. I was incredibly excited to start this new journey.
***
Reflection: As I wrote this memoir, I felt the very emotions I had felt at the time. When I wrote about starting my first job, I felt excited. I typed with a ferocity in an effort to get the words out as quickly as I could. In contrast, when I wrote about leaving my second job, I felt like I was suffocating. The words didn't want to come out. I wanted this piece to convey the parallels, contrasts, and impact of time on one's perceptions. It's possible to change over time, to grow, to learn, to want something different. Perhaps it's even inevitable.
Timing: I started this piece on Tue Jun 25 2019 with a 30-minute write. I completed it on Wed Jun 26 2019 with another 30-minute write.
***
MONDAY, JUNE 26, 2000
From the moment I woke up, I was filled with a strange combination of excitement, anticipation, and nervousness. I had prepared my whole life for this and gone through countless hurdles to get to this point.
This was my first day at my first full-time job.
I was so young, so keen, so green. While I've never truly felt a calling, I've always known I wanted to work in an office environment. The thought of working with spreadsheets, performing analyses, and having a steady income thrilled me. Plus, working a 9-to-5 is the natural progression after graduating from business school, isn't it?
By the time I stepped into the shiny green building, I was filled with so much energy that I thought I would explode. I wish I could better remember the day, but this was years before I discovered my love for documenting life. I only recall the feeling of wanting to know what happens next.
My first day at work was full of newness. I was shown around, introduced to colleagues (including two other new grads who started the same day), and assigned to my very own cubicle -- all the things that typically happen during your first day in a corporate environment. The other new hires and I had a training session in the morning, ate lunch together, and had another training session in the afternoon. My shiny new career filled me with light.
I remember feeling at home in my new space. I remember loving my cubicle, the little magnetic sign with my name on it, my computer, my office supplies, my email address. I couldn't believe this company was paying me money to show up every day. I was confident, eager, happy. The day passed by in a blink of an eye. As I left the office that afternoon, I couldn't wait to go back to work the next day. I was so excited to start this new journey.
TUESDAY, JUNE 26, 2018
When my alarm sounded, I wanted to crawl under the covers and sleep forever. It had been this way for weeks, months, even years.
In the 18 years since I started my career, I had taken numerous classes, gone on countless vacations, bought innumerable treats for myself, moved a few times, saved up a reasonable amount of money, set up my investments, purchased a condo, dated a bunch of guys, married my favourite one, and added two furbabies to our family. I had changed jobs around a decade ago, my income continued to grow steadily, and I was treated well at work.
I should have been happy, but I wasn't.
No. Not only was I unhappy, I was utterly miserable. I felt like I couldn't be myself at work. I didn't see the point in sitting at a desk for 8 hours a day when there were so many other things I could do. I dreaded going to the office, running numbers, writing reports, exchanging pleasantries, pretending to be excited about new business opportunities. My cubicle had become my prison.
With ever-increasing thoughts of escape, I'd had the undated letter prepared for weeks. But how could I give it all up? The extravagant vacations, the Michelin-starred restaurants, the designer bags, the work I put into this career. Could I make the leap? Did I believe in myself enough to start over? What would people think?
There was a moment that morning. I had dragged myself to work and I was sitting at my desk in a bit of a daze, once again pondering the questions that had plagued my mind for so long. Why am I here? What am I doing with my life? Am I living my best life? Who am I?
The answers were foggy, yet the direction was clear.
It was quiet in the office that day, my boss was at her desk, and I knew it would be now or never. Without having any sort of plan and practically on autopilot, I started a series of actions that would culminate in me submitting my resignation letter. I opened my letter, dated it, printed it, and put it in an envelope. I messaged my boss and asked to meet. I gave her my letter. We talked. We cried. And then it was done.
One action leading to the next.
I'm not sure how I got back to my desk, but I think I may have floated. I felt a lightness, and I found my entire being filled with hope -- to heal, to learn, to experience, to begin again. In that moment, all the uncertainties, fears, and anxiety faded away. I was incredibly excited to start this new journey.
***
Reflection: As I wrote this memoir, I felt the very emotions I had felt at the time. When I wrote about starting my first job, I felt excited. I typed with a ferocity in an effort to get the words out as quickly as I could. In contrast, when I wrote about leaving my second job, I felt like I was suffocating. The words didn't want to come out. I wanted this piece to convey the parallels, contrasts, and impact of time on one's perceptions. It's possible to change over time, to grow, to learn, to want something different. Perhaps it's even inevitable.