When I pictured what my first week away from corporate life would look like, I have to be honest: I imagined something a bit more dramatic. Perhaps a giant WOOSH that would sweep all of the gripping, fear, and anxiousness away, and replace it with a new, delightfully unscheduled and laid back “Writer Abbie.”
I was so excited to meet her and get to know what the “new me” was like. Cue the city girl walking down the street with her laptop, and a fun independent movie-type soundtrack playing.
Update: One week later. I am still the same me. And this still feels like transition.
Additional update: My expectations might have been a little high.
|One week later: Writer Abbie looks a LOT like regular Abbie.|
These initial days don’t feel like a beginning. I have devoted more time to writing, but there are no large sweeping changes in my routine on that front. In the spirit of truth speaking, I have packed my days with activities to make sure that I stay relentlessly busy.
But this isn’t much of an ending, either. My decision to quit was not impulsive. My departure from work felt more like a slow burn than a final, explosive burst of flame. My nervous system also isn’t convinced that we aren’t returning to the office next week.
I naively imagined that my physical body would also be experiencing sweeping changes in yoga, as my previously tight upper back and hips relaxed from being away from my desk.
Update: I checked on this today in class and I can still report the same level of tightness in both of these areas.
Additional update: I realize that I am writing this blog post hunched over a table. My expectations might have been a little high.
As I moved into Warrior 3 this morning, staring into the grains of the wood floor beneath me, I found my eyes scanning, desperately trying to locate a suitable drishti, the spot for my gaze, as my foot wobbled and I fell out of the pose.
This is what I am doing right now: looking for a center, even though I feel like I am already in the middle.
The gift of transition will certainly be recognition of the drishtis in my life. My yoga practice. My village. Random emails and texts. The silence of an empty house as I sit and type and drink that first cup of morning coffee. The awesome conversation with my favorite server at the Pho place down the street, who upon hearing about my new adventure, told me to “bring a laptop and just write.”
Authors who start stories from the middle refer to this as In Medias Res which is latin for “in the midst of things.”
This is where I am going to start. This is where I am.
Because “in the midst of things” sounds a lot like being present. It sounds a lot like being right here, right now.
I am learning that my journey is not about starting over, but moving forward.
Instead of looking for the new me - be me. Instead of looking for the perfect place to write - just write.
This decision was about taking the authentic path. The real truth is that I have no idea where the path is leading or how far I have traveled.
My hunch is that I am probably somewhere in the middle.
In medias res.