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.

Treading water

I am one week in to my new job. I am four days in to Death Cold 2011. My workouts have been thrown out the window courtesy of these two things. I am approximately eight mentally composed blog posts behind (a weight loss post! an Ohio trip recap! a giveaway! a sappy letter to Elle! all this could be yours if you choose to read it when I eventually post it!). I have about dozen things I need to do, another dozen I want to do, and no clue when any of them will be started, let alone completed.

WHEW.

Things at the new job are going well for only being there a week. I am incredibly overwhelmed - learning such a dramatically different new industry is frightening, y'all. A coworker told me today that I "need to be more confident," that I "know what I'm doing and just need to trust myself." Soooo not true. I'm coming off the confidence of being in the same industry for 12 years, working for multiple newspapers of various sizes in a multitude of positions, circumstances and environments. There, I was confident. Here, I'm scared to death that I'm going to eff something up. There is a lot to learn, and a lot at stake (like, oh, wasted material, money, the company's reputation, etc.) if I do something wrong.

My last job was with a large company. This is a very small company, and there are definite pros and cons to that. I'm thankful that my coworkers all seem great, but it's a major adjustment for me. And being the "new kid" on the small block makes me feel like I'm constantly being scrutinized.

Read: Pressure.

In some regards, though, it's going better than I thought. After the first two days, it was all I could do to take a deep breath and just keep plugging away. The last three days have been spotted with some successes, though, as I pick up on stuff, slowly but surely. I'm shocked that the shift from nights to days hasn't been hard at all (thank you, darling 14-month-old daughter). I'm awake during the day without the help of an insane amount of caffeine, and I even managed to go to the gym before work last week before Death Cold set in (sadly, the gym doesn't look any better at 6 a.m. than it does the rest of the day).

I came down with a runny nose - completely out of the blue - on Saturday. By Sunday, I had a stuffed nose, congestion and a scratchy throat. Monday was full of nose blowing (hi, new coworkers!). Tuesday brought me no voice (did I mention that my new job involves a decent amount of interaction with our clients? Yeah, other people had to take my calls and translate for me). And today I had a lot of nose-blowing, some dizziness and some coughing, but I *sounded* a little better. And now that I'm done breastfeeding, you can bet your bottom dollar that I'm medicating the crap out of myself. 

Would you not miss this face?

Provided that I survive Death Cold, I have faith that things will be OK. It's going to take time to adjust to this new life. I miss Elle like whoa. I miss our mornings together, miss getting stuff done around the condo in the morning while she napped. I love coming home to her or picking her up at the sitter's and eating dinner with her (and sometimes Tim, when he can get away from the office). I hate hardly seeing Tim, although it was fantastic to have two evenings at home with him this week. I still have a hard time going to bed early enough (like I should be doing right now). I love being able to put Elle to bed at night. I hate not being able to just run to the post office, make phone calls or schedule a doctor's appointment like I could when I worked nights.

But ultimately, as Modest Mouse says, we'll all float on. Some day (soon, I hope), I'll understand this complex land of my new industry. We'll hit a groove at home. I won't go through a box of tissues a day because my nose is full of snot. I'll blog regularly again. I'll reply to e-mails in a timely fashion. I'll get a massage every other week. OK, just kidding. Honestly, though, we've undergone a lot of change in our household in the last two years - if we didn't know how to adapt by now, I'd be worried.

Off to visit my pillow so my brain can be sponge-y and alert tomorrow!