Another year has come and gone.
It's been a year that I've been back from Japan, and yet it's strange to think I've been back so long. It's even stranger to think that only now do I feel like I'm starting to live my life again.What is it that they say? That Change is never easy? I didn't have too much trouble with it initially when I moved to Japan, save carrying all of it around in my wallet (oh yeah, and there were those swollen ankle days).
Moving back to the U.S., however...
Well, the first 5 days home, I was tired. And it wasn't that Jet lag tired -- I felt drained. Physically, my trip in Japan and LA had exhausted me. Emotionally, there were too many ties to Japan, an abruptness to the departure that left me kind of empty.
It didn't quite feel real. It wasn't until I went over to my sister's house for my "Welcome Home" party that I realized I hadn't left my house in 5 days.
When I told her, she all but shoved me out the door. Go to the place with free WiFi, buy the cheapest damn coffee they have, and don't come home until you've applied to at least 5 jobs.
This is probably the best time to explain that my sister and I, being 7 years apart, get along like PB&J. Now, if you'd known us as kids, you would never believe it. She was the big sister who locked me out of her room at play time, I was the little sister poking her over a foam ice chest in the back seat of a rented sedan on our two-week road trips with mom and dad. Somewhere along the line, we went from nemeses to co-conspirators.
Now, when I'm bugging out, she just gets me.
I like to think that I'm a good voice of reason every once in a while, too.
Anyway, after back to the program: My sister kicked me out with a matter-of-fact order. For the next few days, Panera became my haunt. Alas, I did not find the meaning of life, nor my next job, at the bottom of a crappy iced coffee cup. It did, however, give me a little more motivation.
And vitamin D. That always helps.
I did find my next job soon after. My mom, ever talkative and helpful, came upon a coworker with ties to a translation company. (The company will remain unnamed). I sent my resume, had some interviews, and started as an editing intern.
I was excited! For the first time in 6 weeks, something was moving in my life, and it seemed like I had a good opportunity to work on my Japanese. However, this is Miami.
AKA North Latin America.
Before I knew it, I was reviewing Spanish, Spanish, and more Spanish. Granted, I was getting a good reading practice, and I had the chance to work with some of the best, most detail-oriented senior editors, but more often than not I felt as though my eyeballs were about to fall out of my head.
It was only supposed to be for a couple of weeks, then I was going to work on Japanese-English documents, they said. What really happened was one of the most stressful periods of my life.
Disclaimer: I lasted eight months at that job. Throughout that period, I gained an incredible amount of business experience and met fantastic friends that I am perpetually grateful for.
That said, I don't think I have ever been more miserable. At first, I told myself that it was a learning curve -- Project Management, business, was something I had no experience with. They'd started training me on a new client, which blew up fast. That account became my baby. There was always a new challenge, a higher hurdle, and it was all part of the curve. Someday, I'll reach the top of the hill, I said to myself, short-winded.
It just so happened that the hill included an obstacle course of long hours, emails 24/7, and no overtime pay. The worst was when I'd dream of work, wake up, and have to go to work. It happened more times than I can count. Eventually, I came face to face with a conundrum: I was so drained that I needed coffee, but coffee started to make me anxious.
Finally, it came to the point where I could no longer ignore the fact that crying when I came home from work was not only hormonal, and that the shortness of breath and tears together were panic attacks -- something I'd never suffered from before. I even went to see a shrink.
So I quit. I admit, at first it hurt my pride to leave at first, almost like I was giving up. However, another job opportunity came along not long after, and I am now happily using Japanese in my every day life. I took a pay cut, and the kind of work doesn't seem quite as prestigious -- I don't get to call the shots, most of the time. Even so, I feel like I've done a complete 180. Reasonable hours? Normal days off? Weekends without answering emails? Home before 9? Wait, before 7?!
I remember telling a coworker towards the end that I didn't even feel human anymore. Perhaps that was the most valuable lesson I learned from that job: that no job is worth that kind of misery.
Again, the knowledge and experience I gained there are invaluable and will undoubtedly help me in the future. The human connections -- for all the inhumanity I felt -- were priceless. Some of my coworkers became my best friends, and my bosses were always kind to me. It just so happened that they were as crazy workaholic as the industry expected me to be.
So, to sum it up, I spent the better part of a year like that. A lot of good things happened in that time, too, however.
I started growing a little maple tree for a few months (it eventually died, but I reveled in the short growth process). I went to France for two weeks after I quit my job, which I liked more than I expected (French people are much nicer than we are often led to believe). Oh, and that sister I mentioned earlier? She had a baby, a cute little nephew for me to spoil when he's old enough to tell the difference.
Don't get me wrong, I still can't wait to go back to Japan. But it seems like life is finally moving forward again. I have absolutely no idea what the next step will be, or where it will take me, but at the very least it's started off with a smile on my face.
