Change. After 13 years, I’ve left an all encompassing career as a communications executive and entrepreneur. That was a week ago. I’ll admit there is some level of residual brain-numbness in the leaving. The guy next to me at the coffee shop doing a coffee flight tasting just said one of his pours tasted like a hangover he once had. Perhaps I’m also hung.
The waining moments of power and back-to-back scheduling and right brained P&L management and the deep, organic material of care for nearly 200 employees is still coursing through my bloodstream. Everyone tells me there will be phases, which is kind, but not resonating because I pride myself in not following the crowd. Why would I want to do “sadness”? It’s too prepared. Too expected. I think I’m somewhere between the still buzzed phase and the room spinning phase. I’ve had a couple of room spinning moments, but I’ve managed to move my body in a way that equilibrium is regained. For now. And I know I’m nowhere near crawling on the floor wanting to be dead, yet. And, the ravenous post binge hunger. It will come. That’s what this summer is for. To dream. Or perhaps, if I was being really honest with myself, it’s to recover.
I’d like to think it’s both. And to share the stories that will leap from the hours, days, weeks and months ahead. I’m looking forward to it.