Change is Good

As I mentioned last week, I have some good news to report to you.

I have a new job.

I accepted an offer from a company located north of Rockford, IL, making my commute about 7 miles longer than it was. (Oh, and my commute will now take me past Gordman's, TJ Maxx, Lowe's, Target, Kohl's and a handful of other easy-to-swing-by-on-the-way-home-from-work places!)

I'm relieved to have something locked up. I'm excited to start something quite different in many ways from anything I've done before. I'm a little nervous about starting over in an unfamiliar place, where I have to start from scratch to figure out who is on my side and who might not be.

And I'm happy that this version of me was the one that hit the interview trail.

Confidence is powerful.

It gives you courage when you might not be feeling all that brave, smart or invincible.

And knowing you've "beaten" something (like prevailing over your former self), knowing you've succeeded after working so hard (on your butt, your attitude and your outlook), makes facing a new challenge easier.

There are times I'm absolutely amazed that a self-doubting, 23-year-old chubby and insecure girl still lives in my body. I wonder if this is a "me" thing, a female thing, a Midwestern thing or a psychotic thing.

After all, I'm a 46-year-old woman who has managed to finish college, get married, co-parent a great kid, build a house, pay taxes, manage budgets, run a company, make Thanksgiving dinner, arrange a funeral, get a mammogram, file an insurance claim, learn sign language, attend both fancy and total Redneck dinners without embarrassing myself ... and yet I can't get it through my head that I just might know something or be good at something or be, well, capable.

I admit freely that hitting the interview trail after 23 years was not easy. The first couple of Round 1 events were strictly practice. But, just like a muscle you haven't exercised in a long time, you keep going, and get stronger with each attempt.

(In the end, it felt like dating. How charming could I be? Can I get someone to like me? Once I realized that it was just a different kind of flirting, I actually had a really good time.)

The version of me that existed a few years ago would have struggled more. Doubted more. Worried more. Sabotaged myself with self-depreciating thoughts more.

The new me put on high-heeled boots, took a deep breath, and repeated, "You can do this," a thousand times or more.

High-heeled boots are not that different from running shoes, are they? A deep breath is a deep breath. And my brain has gotten used to being convinced to take on things it doesn't really believe possible.

For that, I am grateful.