Ch-ch-changes

For the first year since 1996, I've started the year not working for a newspaper. From high school to college to four newspapers after graduation, every new year has been consistent in that way. And while I've been out of journalism for almost four months, I still feel like a huge chunk of "me" is missing.

Don't get me wrong - work wasn't my life, and there were definitely reasons, both short-term and long-term, that I left the industry. But when you do something for so long, and it consumes so much of your life, I think it's natural to feel like a little bit of your identity is shaken when it's gone. Many former journalists left the business for something similar - where they're still writing, dealing with the news, editing, etc.  Or they kept a schedule similar to what they had when they were in journalism. Moi? While I deal with graphic design occasionally, it's nothing like designing an entire sports section every night. I am on a completely opposite schedule from the one I worked for the better part of more than a decade. A lot of my friends still work for newspapers. Oh. And my husband still works for a newspaper.

Tim and I still "talk shop." I'm still extremely at ease visiting him in a newsroom. But I'd be lying if I didn't say it isn't hard sometimes, to talk about a big news story or a deadline issue, and not feel a tug at my journalistic heartstrings. My job change has definitely skewed our work convos dramatically. And I was only minimally surprised when I was talking to a close friend from my former newspaper and referred to something as a decision "we," as a paper, had made. I find myself doing that a lot - "we" or "us" - and then backtracking to clarify.

Maybe if I had left the industry sooner it wouldn't feel like such a huge part of me is in transition. It's not like I don't have other, bigger roles in my life - mother, wife, daughter, sister, friend. I have other passions and creative outlets. But I think that's part of it, too - my work was a creative outlet. I don't have a lot of free time for "fun" design projects anymore (something I am changing in 2012). I spend a lot of time at a computer, but the ebb and flow of newspaper downtime and crunch time isn't there anymore.

And there's a self-confidence issue at play in my little identity crisis. I wasn't the best newspage designer in the world - not even close. But I was good at it. I knew it inside and out. I was confident and comfortable. I was calm under pressure. After being at my last paper for more than five years, I think people knew what to expect from me, and I knew what to expect from them. There was a familiarity there, too. People knew about me - about my husband, my daughter, the fact that none of our family lives within 1,000 miles of us. They were there with celebrations when I got married and cake when I was about ready to pop out a baby. They knew when I was in a good mood or when they should probably avoid me. They moved mountains to make sure I could be with my family when my grandma died, despite the fact that it was the busiest weekend of the year, our boss had worked like 20 days straight and the other designer was recovering from emergency surgery.

We all shared glances when anyone dared to plan a wedding, baby or vacation for football season (hand raised for being guilty of taking time off for both a wedding and a baby during the busiest sports season, but hey, life happens). Since these are all pretty big life factors and events, that sense of community is something that sticks with me.

To all the people who have heard me whine and complain about how I was tired of working nights, exhausted by my commute, beyond over working holidays and about ready to blow my top because of certain coworkers, I know this sounds like I've had a complete change of heart. Not true. But it's hard to completely dismiss something that was such a big part of my life - of me - for so long. It deserves the chance to be mourned, for lack of a better description. And I'm not saying that my current job and coworkers are awful and insufferable. The circumstances are just different, and I'm slow to completely acclimate. Any change so drastic - from actual work, schedule and environment - has to be granted an adjustment period, and I'm in the thick of it.

Life in newspapers isn't all rainbows and puppy dogs. However, in this time of major change in my life, I'm conscious of where I've been as I try to figure out where I'm going.