It occurred to me last night that today is the anniversary of my "retirement" from my fancy fungal/algal scientist job.
On the one hand,
It feels like I left just a week ago.
I could still regale you with tales of Haematococcus and the snowflake-like delicacy of Micrasterias. The hum of the environmental rooms still vibrates in my head, the cool air filled with cave-like smells from freshly opened culture cabinets. I know the exact hues of all the algal cultures... at a glance I can tell when they're happy, or at the cusp of needing new media, or when they are so far gone that they need a lot of attention to survive... and I still dream about them. I can hear the mycology professor's yell of "YESSS!!!" as he fist-pumps the air in excitement that I got an exceptionally difficult fungal culture to shoot off spores perfectly on cue under the scope during class.
I did a lot of work to free myself of the negative effects of the past, but it still feels like luck. That I have somehow retained the best parts of the job (the art and the science and my passion for the cultures), yet also released the negative parts (the daily vomiting from stress, the unrealistic workload and 12-hour days, those around me playing politics, the smell of BART)... it feels like a miracle!
On the other hand,
The depth of relaxation in my life is so intense that it feels like it was 5 years ago.
I have slept enough that my body has acquired and kept its natural circadian rhythm for the first time (sleeping from 12 or 1am to 9 or 10am). I have hermited enough to feel fully socially refreshed. I used to always be the kind of person who needed to plan every social thing far in advance to even consider doing it, but now that the stress is gone so is my need for control. I enjoy getting up for the day and I appreciate even the little things that used to feel grating... like sweeping floors that are dirty because our dog loves the outdoors, or cleaning dishes that signify a satisfying meal. I can get outside and read or run my fingers through soil at any time. I feel like the better, more true version of myself.
I share my husband's schedule and weekends finally, and that alone is worth it. My time with him has at least quadrupled!
And then there's the baby, of course. Torin is 12 weeks old today, the end of the "fourth trimester." I left employment and became immediately pregnant (practically a miracle after the fertility issues!), which made it easy to compartmentalize the different chapters in my life's book. This is probably why the past seems so SO far away.
In any case... today is a day to celebrate!
I have been far happier over this past year than I have been in ages. I opened my traditional birthday coconut, and it was perfectly fresh and fragrant, a good omen. We put Torin in 6-month-old clothes for the first time (dang, he's big for his age, 100th percentile!), and I think I might just have a glass of wine. Skål!*
*We recently watched The Almighty Johnsons, and that's a Norse drinking toast like "cheers" or "slainte."
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