A Change of Life (No, not THAT change...)

Haystack Rock, Cannon Beach OR

I was sitting on the beach. It was a Saturday afternoon. The sand was warm, but not burn-my-feet blazing; the day was temperate and breezy and there were clouds. I could see the offshore siblings of these clouds and they looked more serious; the watercolor brushstrokes of dark gray falling onto the
Pacific told me it was raining out there. Here, though, it was the perfect kind of day to forget that we hadn't spent a lot of time lazing in the sun this summer, even though July is waning, so we needed sunblock and didn't have any on hand. We would pay for this lapse in solar memory later, but for now I watched the tide slowly come in on an Oregon coast beach, while my ten year old dozed next to me buried neck deep in the sand. I kept thinking about how we got here.

How the hell did we get here...?

For a few years I was unhappy at some core level with my job. Pfffffffft (or worse) you say! I know! First World problem! It seems that most people I know are, somehow, unhappy on the job. I am personally acquainted with only a relative few people who wake up everyday with passion in their intention and a spring in their step. But I wasn't even looking to be passionate, I would have settled for distracted contentment. Nope, I had reached some kind of internal line in the sand and didn't even realize it until I received what seemed like a random email. The email contained notification of a widespread job search; that the hiring organization had not yet found the level of candidacy they sought (I note this now because it is an ego boost for me, not because it is particularly relevant to the story). Long story short: I had an uber-crappy day at work and applied for the job on a whim. The job was in WA. Now, I am not the most self-confident of people. Yes, I am smart, and yes, I seem to be ok at what I do, but after years of going no further in my career, watching people (mostly men) around me get paid WAY more, and wondering if this was going to be the rest of my life, my sense of self-efficacy and innate career value, were a bit dodgy. Thus, I was a bit astounded when I received a response asking for an interview. The whirlwind started then; a first interview, less than a week later, an onsite interview that consisted of flying to WA, an early breakfast interview, a formal interview with panel, an interview with the big boss, lunch (still "on"), a quick tour and then off to HR to hear why this place would be a great place to relocate my life (and my husband's, child's, and dogs'). The next day, I flew home early and by the time I drove into my driveway, a voicemail was waiting wherein they told me I was their candidate of choice. You should know, this kind of thing DOESN'T HAPPEN TO ME (ok, I guess it does now...). I am no rockstar at work, nor a golden girl who was rising through the ranks. On the contrary, I stumbled upon the job that somehow became my career, and was all but coerced into applying for the first line management position that I then held for seven years. I waited for their offer, calculating what it would take to move me from where I'd spent the last 16 years.

It is funny (in a psychotic way) how we can pine for change to happen in our lives and then become slightly paralyzed when the opportunity presents itself. When the organization demonstrated just how serious they were about hiring me, I suddenly needed to find my big girl panties and make a decision. In order to do that, I flew with my family to the area because there was no way i was going to unilaterally decide to move us 1200 miles northwest.

And now a word or two about the Tri-Cities in Washington state. First, I said Washington so you likely thought green and rainy, didn't you? Yeah I did when I first saw the job ad. Dear reader, did you know there is desert in Washington? Back in the days of the Manhattan Project this area in southeastern Washington was home to the B Reactor; the first full-scale plutonium production reactor in the world. Plutonium from this site was used in the first nuclear bombs (Fat Man and Little Boy), and we all know what happened to them. I spent the past 16 years working at Los Alamos National Laboratory (home of said bombs) with mixed results on my conscience the entire time. Now I faced the prospect of moving to another desert that was once chosen, at least in part, for its isolated
location, and that grew up into more, despite itself. The Tri-Cities (Tell me you don't hear John Ratzenberger's voice every time you read that name!) and its role in history might be relegated to library archives and seldom-used internet links if it weren't for one thing: WATER. Not a little water,

The Columbia 

nor some wannabe seasonally streaming creek that only runs during the rainy season. Oh no, the high-quality H2O of which I speak is none other than the MIGHTY COLUMBIA RIVER. Yes, I am shouting. This giant, and ever impressive river flows through the area where two other rivers, the Yakima and the Snake, join its journey to the Pacific. So while the Hanford site is infamous for being the most contaminated nuclear site in the country, the
economy of the area continues to grow in large part because of the river. (You can probably tell I am a bit infatuated with the Columbia, more on that another time.) The river allows massive irrigation and therefore a huge economy of agriculture. And, after decades of farmers growing corn and wheat, someone discovered that the area is marvelous for grapes! Thus, a strong, award winning vineyard culture has grown up around the area as well.

Going for THE VISIT

But back to the decision. The balance of my nuclear family (no pun intended) liked the area. David was willing to change his life because, in his words, "It's your turn." My ten year old girl decided it would broaden her horizons (after saying this she told me she didn't know what that meant, but after I explained it, she said, "See?"). So, after thinking long and hard for a week, I took the job. Holy crap, I took the job.

They say (Whoever "they" are, they have strong opinions and considerable street cred) that some of the most stressful life events we must work through include moving and changing jobs. Great.  I will say at the outset of this section that the hullabaloo surrounding the exit of a job and the logistical insanity of trying to move one's entire life to a different part of the country where a new job will commence, is indeed a challenge (please note, at this moment, how calmly I seem to be relating this angst). Once I made my decision to exit stage left, I had to tell people. My intention was to give enough time so that at least an interim replacement could be identified, I could finish some projects, and the whole transition could be done as seemlessly as possible (and, let's be honest here, to give myself ample time to get my act together before relocating). Suffice it to say, I will never do that again. Best intentions aside, giving more than two weeks simply gives people more time to ignore, deny, overreact, and freak out (in about that order) over the worker leaving. It does, however, give the person exiting ample time to feel some long overdue love (I am shameless, I know) and enjoy a great going away party. Emotionally, though, I had no idea to what extent I had wrecked myself. What made me think that leaving my family (including my ten year-old daughter) for an indefinite amount of time would be easy?

It wasn't.

During the following six weeks from ending one job to acknowledging my first month in the other, I would randomly and seemingly inexplicably experience the following: excitement, elation, panic, fear, self-doubt, other-doubt, everything-doubt; loneliness, pride, confidence, curiosity, peace, desperation, exhaustion, relief, contentment, amazement....oh you get the point. And I am not even going to attempt to discuss the shock to my system upon learning that I missed my old job, learned that I had made real friends during all those years, and found that my old, "pack everything you own and drive off" self wasn't going to cut it this time around. During this change my internal life's been the equivalent of a super bouncy ball let loose in a Tilt-a-Whirl. I am pretty sure that my family would say the same thing about their own perspectives at this point.

We've eaten well...

Now the emotions are slowly calming down. My new job has a definite learning curve, but every week it feels not quite as vertigo-inducingly steep. As of this writing, though, my family remains unsettled. My husband, dogs and "stuff" (read, everything in our house) are still in the southwest. I am still in corporate housing (which is lovely so please don't think, prison compound or dreary, Cold War-era concrete duplex), and my daughter (who is at the age where she wants her Mom) joined me in early July, so I am definitely not as lonely as I was.  I did learn, in no uncertain terms, that my family being together is the most important part of my life. There are still many uncertainties with regard to how we will actually get to be together, but I am hopeful that paths will open up and we will choose the one that meets our needs. We have passed through the acute pain of long-overdue change, and are seeking, if nothing else, a focal point that will help us navigate the remaining logistical quandary. Unfortunately, the next bit is pretty much out of our control and I do my best to subdue the nagging ache to figure it out and make it happen (let it go, let it go, let it go). But the first (fairly big) steps in this adventure are taken, and it's not all bad by any means; Nora and I take opportunities to explore the easily reached Oregon coast, which bring us back to how we got here...The answer seems to be, Be Careful What You Wish For.

Next time: The actual path to the beach...