Transitions are never easy. Especially when one has the genetic payload that I’m ‘blessed’ with, the overwhelming perfection streak and the proneness to manicness that my ancestors have passed onto me. The orderliness of the first world is missed, not to mention the routine of the work world. Despite it bringing me close to the brink of insanity, it was easy to bury the needs and wants in 10 hour days, workouts and drugged sleep. Actually dealing with my demons with time off on my hands is a totally different ballgame, and one that is much, much harder.
So what’s keeping me going when getting out of bed seems as hard as bench pressing 200 pounds? It truly is the connections, the friendships and the relationships I have around. SR emailing me all the details from sunny SoCal so I don’t miss anything with the old crew, SO to have random late night conversations about the best in 80’s music, sweaters and see through shirts, the sibling wishing that I find what I’m looking for (perhaps in a few years), the thought that maybe, just maybe I’m somewhat employable, T providing entertainment in that special way she can, A and S being the usual jokers and R akki pointing out that this transition is something that everybody goes through and that everyone who has gone through it, is unanimous that they don’t want to go back.
At the end of the day I guess I should have been more aware that this would be hard. The relentless pursuit of a goal and its actual attainment has left me a bit bereft. Perhaps I shouldn’t worry as much about where I’m going anymore and start enjoying where I am. For one thing the sunsets from Marine Drive, something that’s starting to become a habit for me are truly one of a kind.
I’m looking to each step now instead of the long road since I have in the past been too focused on the destination. To end on a somewhat random (if typical) note, here’s my favourite song of all time (and surprisingly it’s not a Snow Patrol tune(.
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