Inspiration: I reworked Memoir #3 to share in this week's Life Stories class. I shared the below piece on Tuesday, November 19, 2019.
***
Monday morning, June 26th, the year 2000.
I woke up before my alarm sounded, filled with a strange combination of excitement, anticipation, and nervousness. Today was the day. I had prepared my whole life for this and gone through many hurdles to get to this point.
My first day at my first full-time job.
I was so young, so keen, so green. While I've never felt a calling, I've always known I wanted to work in an office environment. The thought of pushing papers around, 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. There were two other fresh-out-of-school grads who were also starting the same day. I felt relieved that I wasn’t the only one. We were paraded around, introduced to people whose names I promptly forgot, and assigned to our very own cubicles — all the things that typically happen during the first day in a corporate environment. My colleagues were jovial, welcoming, and on their best behaviour. They were curious about us newbies. Fresh meat, they called us. We laughed.
Despite being in this strange new world with these strange old people, 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 had access to the Internet. I couldn't believe this company was paying me 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. And the next day. And the next day.
I was so excited to start this new journey.
Tuesday morning. June 26th. The year 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 people, 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 very 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 hated myself for not having the time or energy to cook healthy meals, to spend quality time with the people around me, to take care of myself, to take care of my loved ones. 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 be doing. 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.
I had spent the last 18 years following the green. Following the natural progression of things. Following what other people expected of me. But deep in my core, there was a rumbling. I was silently pushing back.
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, and all the other stuff money can buy. The mountains of stuff. Could I take the leap? Did I believe in myself enough to start over again? What would happen to me in the next 18 years? 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? Am I living my best life? Who am I? Who do I want to be?
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. She saw me holding the envelope and immediately turned away. I handed it to her anyway. We talked. We cried. And then it was done.
I'm not sure how I got back to my desk, but I think I may have floated. I felt a lightness, and I felt my entire being filled with hope — to heal, to learn, to experience, to begin again. In that brief moment, all the uncertainties, fears, and anxiety faded away. I was incredibly excited to start this new journey. To see my life unfold. To see what happens next.
***
Reflection: I made a number of changes to make it suitable for reading out loud. I wrote most of my pieces for class to be read aloud, and this affects how and what I write. The more I write, the more I feel my writing is too simplistic but I suppose it's my style. Perhaps it will evolve as I continue writing. Perhaps not.
***
Monday morning, June 26th, the year 2000.
I woke up before my alarm sounded, filled with a strange combination of excitement, anticipation, and nervousness. Today was the day. I had prepared my whole life for this and gone through many hurdles to get to this point.
My first day at my first full-time job.
I was so young, so keen, so green. While I've never felt a calling, I've always known I wanted to work in an office environment. The thought of pushing papers around, 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. There were two other fresh-out-of-school grads who were also starting the same day. I felt relieved that I wasn’t the only one. We were paraded around, introduced to people whose names I promptly forgot, and assigned to our very own cubicles — all the things that typically happen during the first day in a corporate environment. My colleagues were jovial, welcoming, and on their best behaviour. They were curious about us newbies. Fresh meat, they called us. We laughed.
Despite being in this strange new world with these strange old people, 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 had access to the Internet. I couldn't believe this company was paying me 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. And the next day. And the next day.
I was so excited to start this new journey.
Tuesday morning. June 26th. The year 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 people, 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 very 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 hated myself for not having the time or energy to cook healthy meals, to spend quality time with the people around me, to take care of myself, to take care of my loved ones. 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 be doing. 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.
I had spent the last 18 years following the green. Following the natural progression of things. Following what other people expected of me. But deep in my core, there was a rumbling. I was silently pushing back.
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, and all the other stuff money can buy. The mountains of stuff. Could I take the leap? Did I believe in myself enough to start over again? What would happen to me in the next 18 years? 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? Am I living my best life? Who am I? Who do I want to be?
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. She saw me holding the envelope and immediately turned away. I handed it to her anyway. We talked. We cried. And then it was done.
I'm not sure how I got back to my desk, but I think I may have floated. I felt a lightness, and I felt my entire being filled with hope — to heal, to learn, to experience, to begin again. In that brief moment, all the uncertainties, fears, and anxiety faded away. I was incredibly excited to start this new journey. To see my life unfold. To see what happens next.
***
Reflection: I made a number of changes to make it suitable for reading out loud. I wrote most of my pieces for class to be read aloud, and this affects how and what I write. The more I write, the more I feel my writing is too simplistic but I suppose it's my style. Perhaps it will evolve as I continue writing. Perhaps not.