Today was my last day at a job I’ve had for over seven years. I had that job before Nolan could talk, while I lived in Calgary, long before I met Corey, when the Jeep was clean and free from jam stains and splattered lattes on the ceiling. I worked that job in my yoga pants with puffy eyes and determined focus, intent on building my career as steadfastly as I was building a new life for my baby boy in a city of glass on the West Coast.
The job took me on day trips to LA and four day jaunts to New York City, it showed me American cities I’d only seen before in the movies: Seattle, San Francisco, Los Angeles, Chicago. It introduced me to some of the most whip-smart women I’ve ever met, and it demanded hell and high water from me. I was happy to give my everything, though, because in return it gave me flexibility. It gave me the opportunity to breastfeed my baby while I held calls with clients and typed with one finger, and to shamelessly bring a hospital grade pump to a working Conference weekend. It afforded me the opportunity to take an eight week maternity leave in a country where most women take a handful of weeks.
But of course the one constant in life is change, and I am at a crossroads in so many ways in my life. I have a smoldering passion that will die if I don’t address it, I have a deep urge to create solutions that mean something, signs are clanging in a million different florescent ways that I have come to a fork in the road and I can’t just stand here panting. I have to veer sharp right, and then off the path, and go tumbling into the trees, aiming for something above satisfaction and hovering around delight.
I’m going hard after delight.