When I was graduating college, I was probably incessantly annoying.
This is the last time I'm coming to this classroom.
This is the last time I'll park in this space.
This is the last time I'll eat lunch in this dining hall.
I took the liberty of celebrating everything, even the stuff you're probably happy to say goodbye to, like final exams. But truth be told, I'm still that way. And I'm still probably annoying.
I'm a very sentimental leaver.
I don't know what it is about moving on, but I want to delicately appreciate each bit that I'm leaving behind. I want to soak it in for the last time, and I want to acknowledge its passage. I don't want things to fade away, and I don't want the little details of my day-to-day to change without me recognizing it.
Today is my last day at my current job. And while I am beyond elated for the next chapter and amazing opportunity I have secured, I am also sad to see this one end.
I have never experienced so much happiness juxtaposed with so much sadness.
I went for a run a few days ago before work and was planning on bailing on going to the gym after work. I'm unhappy with the number on the scale, but I was tired and just didn't feel like going. When I was working on the bean bags for the last time, my coworker encouraged me to go the gym unless I had something better to do.
I didn't. I really didn't. So I went. I aggressively rowed for five minutes and then it hit me upside the head, this is the last time I will work out in this gym. I picked back up with my rowing and paid close attention to the last time I would row on that machine.
I want every memory to be locked away, to be recognized and remembered. I would have kicked myself if I skipped the gym and didn't make a mental note of the previous time I went as the last time. You might be wondering to yourself, But Sara, why are you so neurotic?
Good question, friends!
Perhaps it's because I realize that so many things in life end unceremoniously. Maybe it's because I'm a writer and thinking about life is part of the writing process. Maybe it's just because I'm a feeler. And maybe it's just because I think to move forward you have to respect the past. Or, if this was a test, the answer is might end up being D: all of the above.
I am ready for a life shake-up. I have gotten comfortable, which, weirdly, is a feeling that make me highly uncomfortable. Challenges are good for me. I need some excitement, some new obstacle or passion to test. But just because I need and want a change, I don't think that necessarily makes me ready.
Then again, maybe ready doesn't always exist. Sometimes trial-by-fire is the only way. And because fire excites me, I'm going to have to be okay losing some things in the flames. And I'm going to have to be okay with the risk.
So here I am, on the precipice of my next grand adventure, taking a mental tally of all the small stuff, like the last weekly marketing meeting and the last weekend report, that's becoming firewood to light the way.