One month and three days: the time it takes to settle in and feel more confident than confused, more self-assured than self-effacing. At a new job, at least.
There are other milestones a moment behind and barely ahead: a month and five days since discovering a betrayal, a month and one day since uncovering a web of lies so thick the most intrepid of spiders would give up, start anew.
A month ago: such chaos in life, such newness at work, it seemed as though I would always be in fits and starts, a perpetual newcomer in my profession, a lifetime member of the walking wounded in romance. But it’s been four weeks; a lot can change from February to March, not just seasons and Daylight Savings Time.
I’m not a Bukowski fan, but a quotation of his popped up yesterday:
What matters most is how well you walk through the fire.
Oh. Yeah. I’d forgotten how skilled I am at fire-walking. And how once you’ve done it a few times it gets easier to realize that the fire is something that eventually ends, teaching lessons along the way, even if they’re painful ones you’d rather someone else had learned.
Maybe it’s the relief of having a full-time job (that I adore) after months and months of working toward that goal. Maybe it’s being back in therapy, having someone help me suss out what works (and what doesn’t) in my life. Maybe it’s realizing I’m glad I’m not the one who had to decide a relationship wasn’t working; it was someone else’s bad behavior that made the decision for me.
Or maybe I’m just happy to finally have the life I came to New York to live, to get off the subway in TriBeCa every day and head to work and walk along cobblestone streets and think to myself, “What could be more perfect?” More sleep would help, but even that I can live without, if I just keep having this.
Because it’s not just in work that a month changes things. It’s in life, too. I’m done with this bout of fire-walking, and—frankly—I walked through it pretty damn well. Now: what’s next?