It’s been a long time. Much has happened. I went to Austria for 10 days, got a job when I returned and have been living in an ether of neither here nor there for almost a month. I went on my second interview two days after I came back from Austria and was offered the position on the next Monday which meant I had one week to figure it out.
It was Friday July 13 when I drove up to spend the weekend with my boyfriend with about 3 weeks of clothes packed in preparation. It was hot out. I drove for about 3 hours to get to my first destination of many to follow. I didn’t know how to pack for what I was about to experience. On the next Monday I drove back, another 2 hours, to spend the next few days with a family I grew very close with. I started my new job on Tuesday.
I dedicate this interlude to how much I love my job. It’s part-time for now (which I don’t love) but it might possibly be the perfect first job for me. I write about food, I talk about food and I think about food. That’s what I do. On some days I’m making phone calls and drafting emails. On other days I’m asking for a cider pairing recommendation. I’m at the epicenter of a farm-to-table movement, and I’m stoked to participate in the facilitation of the movement.
ANYWAY, I had to leave at some point. I’ll admit, I felt like that family accepted me as a part of their family. A tiny addition. I wanted to cry when I left because, honestly, it was my last shred of stability before the uncertainty of the next few weeks settled in. I left to go on another weekend adventure with my boyfriend. We went to Vermont, and truly I needed some peace. For the record, as of this point I only knew I had a second place to stay. So you can imagine that I could’ve laughed into tears at any point during this weekend.
My next stop, a temporary sublet. A friend of a friend offered her student housing for the month she’d be away before school started again. So here I am. In a room full of pictures of smiling friends, none of which are me. My suitcase is still on the floor. When I’m too alone, I feel it in my soul. Sometimes I can’t be rational about my feelings. I’m wearing a mask that says “I have everything under control” when I’m at work. But until just two days ago I had very few things under control. But two days ago I figured out a little more of the puzzle.
Two days ago I got approved for my first apartment. It needs some love I’ll give it that, but it’s my stability for the foreseeable future. I mean I can put my clothes in a closet and lay in a bed with a blanket that covers the entire mattress (and not my twin-size, powerpuff girl fleece blanket).
Now the last thing…that whole “part-time” bit. I’m working on it. I’m interviewing for any and all positions that need me. I’m giving BS answers to why I’m passionate about being a cashier. But simply I need the money. At least until I can finesse my beloved part-time job into a full-time job.
My mom said life is just a bunch of problems you need to figure it out. Or something like that. So I’m figuring it out. I’m discovering new things about myself–about what I love–and I’m excited about it. I’m scared but very, very excited.
The alone time ebbs and flows between empowering and lonely. One night I can feel the haunting silence of an empty four bedroom apartment creeping in around me, and the next day I could thrive in the sunlight making my rounds through the farmer’s market on my own. I haven’t felt this way since my adjustment to Florence over a year and a half ago. And yet, that was the beginning of the best transformation I’ve undergone in my short life. Which is why I’m excited. I know that these feelings of uncertainty and doubt can yield the best moments.
picture marcella 