Humbled

When I made this decision to completely overturn my life and start over, I was scared to say the least. I was excited, but scared was the prominent emotion. Then everything happened with work and I started to doubt myself, doubt if I was capable of doing this. I put on a strong front and typically come across as a very confident person. Deep down, I am still that little girl scared of the dark.

Like my mom was always there to turn on the night light, my friends and family have been there supporting me in a way that humbles me. I also may have taken that metaphor too far.

I have been denied all private health insurance because of my back. I am, essentially uninsurable, which I do not believe is a word. This leaves me one option - COBRA. (duh duh duh) That is the noise that plays in my head every single time I say it. Yes, I will have health insurance, but holy mother of crap does it come at a price. At this point in my life, I am sort of laughing because, maybe, just maybe, I should have been paying better attention to all of this healthcare crap. Sigh. Lesson learned.

The job market sucks ass. I am over qualified for anything that relates to what I have been doing for the past decade. I am under qualified for anything in the culinary industry.

Here is where that whole humbled thing comes in.

My friend B rallies to find me private health insurance, sending me the research that he has done, since he has been fighting the unemployment line for quite some time.

He makes calls to his friends at the Hyatt downtown. (HOLY CRAP I COULD COOK AT THE HYATT.) He calls connection after connection trying to find part time work for me, which results in several solid leads.

Another friend, let's call her Darling (which is a reference to Lady and the Tramp that nobody is going to get, but whatever. I think it is funny) works for one of the local Chambers of Commerce and within a day of having my resume already has job leads for me to follow up on.

My father cannot stop fantasizing about the restaurant I am going to open with him. He wants to call it Erratic's Joint. I am thinking that probably won't be the name. I fear random stoner's wandering in under false pretenses.

My mom calls me every other day to get updates on "what is going on." I mean, to the point of, well, I went to school and signed some papers. She then reports to her entire side of the family. Who then all spend the next several days on a conference line (yes, we have a family conference line. I could not make this up if I tried) planning my future. I am expecting a business plan in the mail any day now.

My grandfather has made me promise that I will have a bar stool engraved for him in Erratic's Joint. It will say "the old man." Yes, that is what I call him.

The boy, Krackle, and Big Jed are eating everything I put in front of them, enthusiastically. I haven't even started school yet. But, their encouragement and support every time I freak out has been monumental to me being able to take this leap. I have had three very willing shoulders to cry on.

The boy sends me all the connections in small business healthcare that he has. He has also requested more pizza and more cheese. Everybody put on their surprised face.

I am not surprised by their support, necessarily. I knew I had an awesome support structure before I took this leap. The only word I can think of is humbled. I don't know how my crazy, spontaneous decision has made my life seem so complete, but it has. It has made me realize that the people that surround me are absolutely fucking amazing.

Maybe, just maybe, I can pull this off.

I am one lucky bitch.