Two Years

Similar to groundhogs in February, I've decided to resurface from my unannounced blogging hibernation. The silent treatment was not for lack of noteworthy events or activities over the last several months. In fact, it's been the opposite. It would be stereotypical to say in light of a full calendar I've simply been "too busy" to blog. And actually it's not totally true. I'm blaming it on writers block for lack of a better explanation. There were a few attempts at "postcards" throughout those months, but cohesive thought seemed to have alluded me, leaving every beginning lacking a middle and end. I say this up front so you know I'm coming out of the hiatus tentatively, still feeling like thoughts are somewhat random and putting out a disclaimer that I might disappear again. Also, I've had the opportunity to talk with many of you in person since the last post, so if any of this is redundant I apologize in advance. 

Today is significant for several reasons, the least important being my two year anniversary at LivingSocial. It is however the motivation for my emerging, so here we go.  Before writing this entry I reread my post from last year. Three things are abundantly obvious: 

• I was still intoxicated by the LivingSocial cool aid
• I hadn't yet run out of 27 years worth of vitamin D stored up from the CA sun, and 
• I was using discovery and new adventures to fill the relational tank in my heart

Unfortunately a year later, these observations look much different.

Since my post about layoffs, company morale (at least in Seattle) never fully rebounded (is that even a word?). In the months that followed, many of my colleagues went elsewhere for employment opportunities which left the once socially alive office sadly dwindling. Despite being told how leadership valued their investment in the Seattle office, our doors officially closed at the end of August (as a cost savings measure). Fortunately, LS is an online company so those of us who remain became displaced remote employees instead of unemployed. If I'm honest, initially I was angry and felt like leadership lied to us (despite knowing good business requires tough decisions, I still feel this way to some extent). As time past I realized I needed to let go of what LS had been, both to me in this chapter of life and as vibrantly youthful workplace full of fun. At the end of the day, it's work and the disillusionment created by my surreal beginning has been replaced with a more balanced reality of typical business. Sad but true. I'm now doing my best to embrace the flexibly created by being remote, resulting in much more domestically productive afternoons (i.e. laundry/chores), lunch time walks around Green Lake, mid day workouts, discovery of new coffee shops, and saying yes to setting up a work station any where with Internet connection.  Fortunately this transition to working from home came during the summer when no one wants to be in an office anyway.  Summer time in Seattle is kind of like recess in elementary school.  You wait for it with great anticipation and savor every moment of being outside because you know it won't last long.  Plus Seattle recess has the added bonus of extra hours of sunshine thanks to being so far north.  We'll see how I do when constant cloud cover returns and hours of darkness seem to be never ending.  

Which brings me to comment on my second observation.  Ask anyone who lived through the 2012 summer in the Pacific Northwest and they'll tell you it was a terrible one.  Terrible basically means short.  As in maybe 2 months of sunshine.  Maybe.  Since I had 27 years of fairly constant sunshine vitamins stored up and had yet to experience a full summer here, I didn't know any different.  Then the gloom started again and by last December I began to realize how important vitamin D is to ones happiness.  The immediate aftermath of layoffs at work also occupied this season, so the combination of the two put me into a self diagnosed mini depression.  To make a long, boring and dull story of those winter months short, I didn't feel like myself most of the time.  In part due to needing the magic of vitamin D (which I now take regularly when the sun doesn't make an appearance), and in part coming to terms with what felt like the ending of my fairy-tale-smooth adventure north.  

Enter the final observation.  During that first year I unknowingly built up certain expectations in my daily routine, in exploration, and in newly forming friendships.  When the enjoyment of my routine was altered because of layoffs, the joy I felt in my day to day work life went into hiding.  It was at this point my love for adventure became even more prominent than it usually is.  I realize in hindsight that while my desire to see the world (even the uncharted territory and restaurants in my nearby surroundings) isn't negative, my need for something new was actually a coping mechanism.  As if a new experience would result in a discovery that might make everything whole again. Also, since most adventures are more fun when shared with someone, I looked to my relatively new grouping of friends to join me. In my perfect world, exploration with someone (or multiple someones) you enjoy equals meaningful conversation, deep thoughts pondered, belly aching laughter exchanged, and a place in each others on-going life story.  When my naive idealism met the reality of our imperfect world and new friends didn't become kindred spirits in my preconceived timeline, I became discouraged.  

I say all of this as justification for my writers block and as somewhat of a confession, albeit to myself.  In stark contrast to my first year, the second was severely lacking in thankfulness.  Once all the sparkles wore off and newness of the journey gave way to mundane, my mood shifted. That is not who I want to be.  I desire to be more deeply rooted in Truth so that my outlook and response doesn't alter when circumstances change.  Valley depths will inevitably vary, it's the attitude of ones heart that makes a difference in the journey.  So in light of the looming end to this Seattle "recess", having stocked up on my fair share of UV rays, and embracing the current state of remote employment as well as growing friendships, I am thankful for the tough lessons learned during year two. With refocused perspective, I gratefully step into more realistic expectations for the next 12 months, patiently waiting and attentively listening to the Lord's leading.