It is quite surreal to find myself back in the workforce after a six month hiatus and incredibly I am feeling it. A dear friend suggested I write a blog about the physical rigours of working in an office three days a week. Yes, she was joking, but after six months of wearing shorts and t-shirts and either no shoes or thongs (again, flip flops for non-Australians), my feet and shins and calves were protesting painfully after just three short days. To have my poor feet encased in shoes felt a lot like I imagine those Chinese women of years gone by who had their feet painfully bound must have felt. Okay, so I am prone to exaggeration. But I am sure you get the drift.
To find myself back in corporate clothing was a shock in and of itself. To hear the alarm go off that first morning was a hell of a jolt to the system. For my time to not be my own was something altogether different.
It is so brilliant to be having a whinge about having a job. How blessed I am that these are my circumstances. That after six months of wandering – literally and metaphorically – to find myself in a position where my skills are valued and I genuinely have a lot to offer and be excited by.
It amazes me how quickly we can get used to a set of circumstances or lose the rhythm of a lifestyle we have lived for years. It is weird not to be working with my friends and trying to remember a succession of new names and faces. To try and remember where the kitchen is and make sure I strategically pick as generic a mug as possible for my tea so I do not inadvertently upset someone. To understand the subtleties of a new workplace – the expectations, the mood, the philosophy about lunch hours and finishing times. But it is also very exciting. A new start; a new opportunity. A chance to shed the past and embrace a new future. A distraction from what would otherwise have been an extremely difficult week for me emotionally.
I liked coming home tired and intellectually exhausted and, as a consequence, being able to sleep well for the first time in months. I liked having to adjust to a new routine. Hell, I liked having a routine after months of ambling and rambling and wandering. That said though, I wouldn’t give up those six months of lack of structure for anything in the world.
I loved having that six months for myself. Again, I am blessed to have been able to take that time. To adjust and adapt and grow and learn and just be. To hang around in an ashram in Nepal, to trek the Himalayas, to undertake terrifying Nepalese bus rides, to wander around Melbourne with friends, to sleep in, read books, do some online courses, cook meals again, spend time with my son, watch really bad daytime television, start a blog!!!!!
I love that I am lying on my bed and my feet hurt from having to wear shoes. I love that I have to be organised in terms of food and shopping and washing because I can’t just do it the next day. I love that I can’t stay up all night wandering around the Internet or watching HBO.
My life is truly blessed and I am thankful. What an amazing place to be in.
Tag Archives: thankful
An anniversary and a new start
We are just days out from it being a year. Twelve months. Three hundred and sixty five days. Eight thousand seven hundred and sixty hours. Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes. A trip to Nepal. The sale of my first home. Giving away my beloved dog and cat. Quitting my job. Dozens and dozens of bottles of scotch. Hundreds and hundreds of nightmares. Dozens and dozens of anxiety attacks.
Almost a year to the day, I will be starting a new job. Hopefully, this is the turn around I have been praying for. But it will take longer for the memory to fade further, the effects to be less apparent to those who know me well, for me to feel truly safe again.
It was October 24, 2012. I went to check on a colleague who had not arrived at work and was not answering his mobile phone. My life will never be the same again. I cannot write about what happened because there is still a court case to come and next to my colleague, I am the only witness to what happened that hot October day. And the man who changed my life – our lives – still walks the streets of Brisbane as the justice system is painfully slow to bring this whole terrible event to a conclusion.
But I have spent the last year trying to do two things: a) wake up each day and; b) understand what the hell it all means. I frequently manage to fall woefully short on both counts.
All of my relationships have changed. I guess that is first and foremost because I have changed so very much.
I am still astounded that one moment in time, one decision can forever change a life and ripple through the lives of those around my colleague and I in ways we will probably never understand.
I have always believed that things happen for a reason. That life is not random and there are forces more powerful than us mere mortals orchestrating things so that what is meant to happen does in fact happen and in the end it all works out for the best. But many thousands of minutes since October 24, 2012 I am no longer certain this is in fact the case. Seriously man, I just don’t get it.
Why say this publicly? I dunno. I keep trying to understand it. I can’t talk about it. Doing so brings on the nightmares and anxiety. Writing about it helps me some.
And as I prepare to start a new job this week, the same week as the anniversary of that awful morning, I am hoping to leave more and more of it behind me. To shut the door a little more; to let more light into my world; to start again.
And I am thankful to have the chance to start again and to those who have held my hand, listened to me cry and continue to love me through all of this. It is a cliche, but true nevertheless, I could never have done it without you.
Angie Kay's travels 