From Gas to Grass
I have now been unemployed for 2 whole days.
Ugly cries are on tap.
The liberation and excitement of leaving my career for this adventure has certainly been met with my share of “freak-outs”. Utter disbelief, in fact. “Did I just very insensibly derail my entire life?”, type of jargon. Ones in which I’ve called upon those closest to me to remind me that I’m doing the “right thing” while I lay awake- feeling isolated, sometimes insecure, my heart rate reaching upwards of 200 bpm. I struggle with anxiety, which I’m teaching myself to temper, but it’s raging at times folks. I will not pose as someone that these changes, nor has this decision, come remotely lightly for. Yet, I’m at peace despite the chaos.
I was incapable of maintaining dry eyes throughout my last shift at UPMC Presbyterian on Monday. These weren’t tears of sorrow nor trepidation- I am leaving something that I love. People that I love. Friends. Colleagues. Managers. Patients. Passerbys. Routine. Rhythm. Predictability. Receiving gifts, both handmade and equally as heartfelt, from peers who I hadn’t realized that I have impacted in this way. It gave me pause. Most notably, the U.S. Special Forces weapon passed on to me from Dr. Moossy.
“How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.”, as Winnie the Pooh would say.
The weeks leading up to my exit have led to reconnections with those surrounding me. I’ve been intentional about calling (yes, actually CALLING) aunts, uncles, cousins, mentors, freshman year college roommates- you name them, to share my news. Conversely, the like have reached out to me if they had learned of my venture before I got ahold of them. We’re talking elementary school teachers, high-school blasts from the pasts, the friend-of-the-friend who is the friend-of-the-friend… It’s been completely beautiful. Humanness at its absolute finest. Connection returned to simplicity.
This is a uniquely sacred time.
As per Zach Davis’s advice, I’ve told everyone. And I mean, EVERYONE, about my quest. My sister’s neighbors, my pharmacist, the cashier at Target, the proprietor of Frick Park Market. Everyone. My aesthetician, Eva, has even gifted me with a lightweight trimmer in order to manage my imminent beard situation sans derma-planing. I call this PRE-trail magic. Agreed? I’ve exploited myself as a vow to hold myself accountable. When, not if, I want to quit- I’ll have to first concede to the fact that I’ll have to break the news to Rocky, my dry cleaner, and I’ll keep walking. It’s as simple as that.
I leave for Georgia in 12 days. Those days will broadly consist of consolidating the remainder of my belongings into 2 climate-controlled cubes and loving up on my parents. They have thrown their cyber virginity out of the window and are attempting (key word- attempting) i-Pad integration to stay connected with me while on trail. If I can yoke Sandie and Charlie with a tablet, then making it to Katahdin will be CHUMP CHANGE.
As I try to relax into the days leading up to my departure, things that are seemingly basic are ringing loudly and creating a preemptive void. I’ll be missing milestones- the birth of both Erica and Dana’s bambinos, my parents’ 73rd and 74th birthdays, the christening of Arielle’s new home, my goddaughter Kenzie’s First Holy Communion, and Easter Sunday (Aunt Sandra, how will you possibly survive without my deviled eggs?!?), to name a few. Speaking of, I gave up work for Lent. Jealous? I am spending my days feverishly packing, living out of boxes, scaling down to the essentials, preventing IRA rollovers, bathing my gear in Permethrin, soaking up every last minute in my sun soaked studio, and questioning both my preparation and my ability- it’s not all glamorous. I’m over the moon stoked for the weekend that awaits, stacked with events that my friends, family and colleagues have planned to send me on my way full of brisket, IPAs and love.
It’s my sweet symphony of gas (anesthetic, that is), to grass (the landscape outside of the brick and mortar, the green, the trail). Back to the basics. Or, in actuality, the beginning of the basics, as we’ve grown so far away from them. A letting go.
And in 2 weeks, I’ll walk.
“What we fear of doing most is usually what we most need to do.”
