The First Day

It is a Wednesday. It is snowing gently outside, the radio is on, and there is a steaming cup of coffee by my side. I feel as though I am getting ready.

But for the first time ever I have nothing to get ready for. 

I have been going to school or working since I was fifteen. That's nearly twenty-six years of get up and get ready and go. But as of today, I don't have a job. As of today, I don't have anything to do next.

I would like to be stoic, but I am terrified. The demons of self doubt are perched on my shoulders and whisper in my ears: What if I can't find something else? What if this happened because I wasn't very good at what I do? In fact, do I even know what I do? Will anyone want any of the things I'm good at? 

Then the cat jumps up onto my shoulders and rubs her face against mine and purrs. The demons are chased away by seven pounds of love. Whatever else, Lizzie B thinks I'm pretty awesome. It helps.

The other thing that helps is the amazing outpouring of love and kindness. I worry about the state of the world on a regular basis, but I need to remember how amazing people really are. I have never felt so loved, so cared for, and had so many offers of help and promises of hope. It's positive, and uplifting, and incredibly humbling.

So my plan for today is to clean my house until it's sparkly and shiny. Maybe I'll put out some more Christmas decorations. Maybe I'll treat myself to an extra long bubble bath. I am going to keep busy and get through this first day. Because the first day of anything is the hardest day. I will wear comfy clothes and be kind to myself. There will be tea. There may be wine.

I will stop telling myself that this is failure, that I am a failure. This is a stop on a journey. It is a time to rest and to think. I will rest for a moment and think.

And then tomorrow,  after I've seen that I can do this, I can be this person, I will start to look around and see where my next steps will take me. 

I've got this.