The end of the 9-to-5

Well, I gave my unofficial notice at work today, since I won't really be able to manage the England-to-Seattle commute this fall. It's bittersweet: as my friends know, my job isn't exactly a bundle of joy, but I really love my co-workers and value our comraderie. Social services may be home to the most warped senses of humor on the planet, and it's something you have to experience to understand.

To anyone who walks past our offices, the remarks floating out the doors sound blasphemous at best and terribly insensitive at worst; however, "gallows humor" is the only way to survive here. How else can we deal with the homeless moms who call us begging for housing we can't provide? How could we endure long enough to tell clients that they'll have to go back into shelter because we don't receive Section 8 voucher allocations anymore?

I can't say I'll miss the actual job because it's emotionally grueling and intellectually numbing - I'm the lowest on the totem pole, so I get all the fun jobs like faxing and filing. Paying your dues is about as fun as it sounds...

Yet, this is bittersweet because of its implications. I'm now left with six short months before I crate up my belongings, purchase a one-way plane ticket and leave my familiar world behind. Apart from my month-long winter breaks (for which I will be eternally grateful), I won't really see my little city for awhile. I have to bid goodbye to the few close friends I've managed to make; as a socially insecure loner, that might be the most upsetting part of all. Three years isn't long in the grand scale of things, but it still leaves enough time to drift apart and lose touch. I'm determined to prevent that from happening, but the time zone difference certainly doesn't help - somehow, even my best friend would probably not enjoy being called at 3am. :) I know it will be okay, but after many, many childhood relocations I have become incredibly obssessed about keeping my friends - I'm convinced that the slightest slip or lapse in communication will result in losing them forever. It's difficult to explain, but it's how I feel, even though part of me knows better.

I realize that your mid-20s are all about striking out on your own and doing things you won't be able to risk later. Still, this isn't easy...but what right do I have to expect that it should be?