People talk about major life changes (births, moves, changing jobs) and encourage you to be kind to yourself when these things happen. They urge you to only tackle one thing at a time: i.e., if you’ve just had a baby, maybe you shouldn’t move or change jobs.
But if you’re insane, you do all three. That’s how I roll.
Anyone who has followed my blog knows that I’ve spent almost three years as a cellar dweller in a depressing, scummy-slummy apartment. Erik and I figured the trashy folks upstairs would never move out because they were just too poor to save up to rent anywhere else. Imagine our surprise when we learned they were leaving! We immediately called our landlords and asked if we could move upstairs. They conceded.
That week, I decided to give my notice at the Y. It was gut-wrenching for me. I’m still bitter about it. For many reasons I won’t go into here, it was the right decision. Sometimes the right decision is hard. I still call it my Y. I still say “we.” And then I realize I don’t work there anymore, and it hurts all over again. Ah, well. This too shall pass.
Anyway, the move was made without much help from me. Moving with a baby really stinks. Luckily, we’re blessed to have many friends who made the move with us. For the low price of pizza and soda, we all got it done.
The improvement in my mood was almost immediate. Seeing the sunshine everyday does wonders for the soul! I didn’t know how much I missed it until I had it back in my life. I still look around and take time to appreciate it, even a month later. I’ll strive to continue remembering what life was like in the downstairs apartment, just so I can be sure to practice gratitude.
Anyway, our landlords decided to raise the rent. After I decided to work part-time. Ah nuts.
Then, my resignation was sort of rejected, and I was bullied into working longer. My life became a string of one job after another, everyday. Learning two new jobs, and struggling with the anxiety of working one that I wanted to be done with but still felt guilty about leaving.
Then came the guilt of not being able to keep up with the housework like I thought I’d be able to. Taking care of the baby can take a lot out of you sometimes!
Then came the crib transition: something I was putting off until life “settled down.” Ha. Anyway, she was fine with it. We’re at almost three weeks now! I however was not fine with it. It stressed me out further and made me more emotional than I thought possible.
Now, one of my part-time jobs has asked me to put in more hours every week. “Sure!” I immediately agreed, only to later realize I’m almost at 40 hours a week again between my two part-time jobs… after wanting to only work 25.
But you know what? Some of these days have been hard, sure; sometimes I worry about money, and sometimes I’m exhausted. But once again, God is moving and shaking things up. Driving to Denver one day a week has made living in Estes Park a lot easier. I don’t have cabin fever as much. Getting into civilization is nice. Not to mention I get to write for a living again! It feels good.
And working at the gym is amazing. I get to really be myself! I can show my tattoos, I can swear, I can laugh and make friends with all types of people. It’s exactly the stress-free job I was looking for – my fun job. And it helps me stay on top of my health and fitness goals – not always easy when you have a four-month-old at home.
I’m hoping that all this change is an impetus to write in my poor, neglected blog once more.