Thursday, May 23, 2013
A little over a month ago, I did some pretty intense self-analysis. I discovered I was more comfortable than happy, and that it was time to shake things up. Since that day, I've looked for a new job, found a new job, accepted the offer, and quit my job of the last eight years. On Monday, I started my new job.
My old job was very comfortable. It was located in the suburbs of Chicago. My husband and I worked in the same office, for the same company. I had a ton of flexibility and could work from home pretty much whenever I wanted. In exchange for this comfort, I worked long, hard, frustrating hours with no support from my coworkers. Though I'm exceptionally good at my job and capable of doing more, there was no growth potential. It's a small company; they only need so many managers.
So I quit, and went to work for one of the best advertising companies in the world. With the drastic job change, you'd think I'd be worried about the job, about impressing my boss and getting along with my coworkers.
Nope, I totally spazzed out over the commute.
My new job is located in downtown Chicago. It's more than a mile walk from the train station. And I have a fairly significant physical disability. But, mostly, the walk is challenging because I've been fat and lazy for years.
The office of the new job is closed tomorrow. The company gives the day before long weekends off to make a really long weekend. So, today closes out the first work week at my new job.
I'm exhausted. So far beyond tired my brain feels like it is buzzing. I hurt. A LOT. My lower back is in flames. My feet have blisters and welts on them. My neck and shoulders feel raw. But I did it. Of my eight commutes (one to the office in the morning and one from the office in the evening), I walked six of them.
It rained yesterday morning, so I tried taking the water taxi that runs on the Chicago River. (I won't do that again. It is not, in any way, safe or accessible for people with disabilities.) This morning, it was raining and cold, so I took public transportation from the train station.
The water taxi and the public transportation both required me to walk up and down a significant amount of stairs. Stairs are difficult for me, because I'm disabled and fat, but also because I have pretty consistent vertigo. But, I did the stairs. And I did the escalators in the train station twice per day.
I want to be proud of myself, but I'm just too tired. The walk was difficult every time. But, I did it. I walked as far as I could and then stopped for a breather over and over again until I got to my destination. 9,000 steps per day. Prior to the job change, I average about 3,000 steps.
There was a point during this afternoon's walk where my inner whiner thought, "Self, this is impossible. Hail a cab and call it done." I actually walked to the curb and looked for a taxi before my better (stubborn) sense caught up with me. The walk is not impossible. I've done it five other times this week. I could do it again. So I did. I sucked it up and moved on my way.
And so I say, it only feels impossible right now. In point of fact, it is merely difficult, exhausting, and uncomfortable. I can handle difficult. A month will make the walk old news.