First Day of Freedom
The only way to make sense out of change is to plunge into it, move with it, and join the dance.
It’s Friday, and I’m not at work. It’s my first day of unemployment, and one of my last days in San Francisco. The van adventure begins in less than a week. A sunrise from my final week in SF
I know how exciting that sounds, but it’s been a very hard day. I woke up earlier than I would for work and started a task I dread: packing. The storage container where my possessions will live for the next few months arrives on Monday. Due to my affection for objects and my tendency to fastidiously research my purchases, I own an overwhelming amount of stuff. Soon I’ll be free from the burden of stuff-ownership and my next chapter will begin.
Until then, this doesn’t feel like vacation. I don’t feel like I have raised anchor, instead this feels like I cut the anchor line and I’m starting to drift. It’s the biggest change in my life so far, and so far it doesn’t feel fun!
I have to remind myself this is just the beginning; endless untold stories lie only a few sunsets away.