small shifts, big changes / #8
on waiting to feel different
TOO SENTIMENTAL.
That’s what my old lecturer wrote across one of my assignments, a decade and a half ago. All caps, red font, underlined for emphasis.
There’s no elaboration too, just a direct hit to my writer’s ego.
At the time, I took it as a critique, or maybe even a warning.
I certainly took it as applicable advice: Good writing — serious, capital-S writing — was clear, analytical, measured. It didn’t indulge in emotions, or sentiments, or infuse itself with humor.
So I tried to dial it back. Stick to the facts. Keep the emotions in check.
But I don’t think I ever really succeeded, if that is a true metric to go by.
Across all my workplaces, I couldn’t help but bring sentiment into the work. I cared too much; I got invested; I poured myself into every project.
Against all better judgment, I felt things.
And yet, here I am. One week into post-corporate life, staring at an empty page, wondering why I suddenly feel the need to downplay it.
Maybe, if I’m being truthful (I’m trying!), I expected something more: A shift, a realization, an epiphany.
Instead, days keep moving.
I still have things to do, like the university lecturing gig that is frying my brain circuits and burning so much of my time with assignment grading and deck prep.
Or finishing up my continuous glucose monitor experiment (which was extremely fun), and I’m excited to compile my insights for it.
I started a 60-minute meditation practice: not something I accounted for, but my cousin — my best accountability buddy — mentioned she might want to try it, during our monthly review session, and we both jumped in, feet first.
I played an absurd amount of Risk.
I downloaded, then deleted the poker app.
I downloaded it again.
(It’s an ongoing struggle: playing a reasonable amount vs. total addiction.)
It’s all been… fine. Not bad. Not revolutionary.
Just life, continuing.
I think part of me was (is?) waiting for some cinematic shift. Like I’d wake up the day after cutting my final ties with work and feel different. Lighter.
More me, whatever that means.
But transitions don’t work like that, I think. They don’t announce themselves. Pretty sure they’re just a series of small moments, stacking quietly, until one day, you look back and realize everything has changed.
I keep thinking about the last times I made a big shift: when I first moved into management, when I transitioned into consulting, when I took on roles that stretched me.
None of those felt monumental while they were happening. It was only in hindsight that I could see the shift clearly.
So, maybe this is just the beginning of another slow recalibration, and it’s okay that it doesn’t feel like anything yet.
My old lecturer would probably slap a big, red TOO SENTIMENTAL on this, too.
But a decade and a half later, I don’t care. I’m leaning all the way in.
Other things
Last week I sent this newsletter out with a photo of a snowy mountain, with the caption expressing how much I’ve missed it. The very next day, we booked a trip to Hokkaido in 2 weeks. Hopefully there will still be enough snow to ski on!
I’ve been meditating for 1890 days, but never more than 20 minutes at a time, and 60 minutes is tough 🥲
Until next time,
J