Silver Linings

Over the past six months I’ve had a lot to be grateful for. Living on my parents' beautiful animal sanctuary, I spend my days wandering the property with Cinder, snuggling Calvin and Hobbes, our two friendly donkeys, and smuggling snacks to our six month old llamas, Moab and Magic. When I’m at work, I receive periodic Cinder updates, from my sister working with Cinder curled up in her lap, or my dad taking her for adventures around the farm. I come home to freshly cooked lasagna, or seafood chowder, a fridge stocked with my favorite wines, and endless books to pick through. On weekends I talk my mom into taking me out on adventures, where we frequent Bodo’s Bagels, the Alamo Movie Theater, and Baines coffee shop. I’ve had so much to be grateful for these past months. 

Moab: The ultimate silver lining

I know just how much I have to be grateful for, because I recite this list daily. I read it off my notes app while I prepare for a twelve hour shift as a bartender half an hour after I get off work as a barista. I type it out on my days off while I sit at the UVA library endlessly applying for “big kid” jobs. I speak it out loud when I wonder why I didn’t go back to Madrid. Why the hell did I choose this over Madrid? 

My work contract was signed, Cinder’s pet passport approved, and my visa renewal was in the works. So why didn’t I book the plane ticket?

I returned to the States in June, and was miserable within the first week. I desperately missed my community in Spain; my friends, my Spanish classes, my volleyball team. I dedicated myself to saving up enough money to fund another year, working part time as a bartender, and full time as a camp counselor. Bartending was tolerable, while the summer camp was completely out of control. The managers bullied the staff, the staff bullied each other, and the kids ran rampant. I just have to make it to August. But the whiplash from graduating college, moving to Buena Vista, then Spain, back to the U.S. and planning to do it all again, caught up to me.

What too much barista-ing looks like

I began craving a community that isn’t dependent on my visa approval. Friendships that aren’t inevitably going to be stressed by distance. A job that pays above minimum wage, in a field I have at least an ember of passion for. A life that’s sustainable. 

The first job I applied for I got an interview. It was in San Diego, California, and I was stoked. The stars were aligning. I had applied for college in San Diego, knowing I could never afford it. But this was it. Everything was going to be just fine. 

That was six months ago. Here I am, in Scottsville, Virginia, reminding myself of each and every silver lining while I stand in a coffee shop, a smile plastered on my face, asking “how can I help you” two hundred times a day. It hasn’t been all bad. I’ve reconnected with friends I haven't seen in years, traveling to New York, spending several weekends in D.C., and finally being in a timezone close enough to talk with my friends in Colorado. Last year I wrote about wrestling with missing significant family moments. This year, I was there to celebrate the official opening of Sentient Sanctuary.

I’m a firm believer in taking agency within my decisions. I never questioned if going to school in Colorado was a good choice. Instead, everyday I woke up and made smaller decisions that cultivated a positive experience. This has been the first time that I’ve wondered if I truly screwed up. Should I have returned to Spain? Would I be happier if I was there? Would I be scrambling to find the silver lining of each day, or would I be waking up feeling lucky to be there?

For three long months, I was in a blind panic, frantically applying to jobs all across the country. If I can just get a long term position, it will prove staying was the right choice. Vermont, Washington, Montana, each state was a never ending onslaught of rejection. Everything I had learned about toxic American work culture flew out of my head. Screw working to live, if I can just get a job everything will be okay. And yet, no jobs have wanted me. 

So, I’m moving to San Diego anyway. On January sixteenth, a friend and I are packing our bags, and beginning the long drive out west. I can’t wait any longer for a hiring manager to give me the green light to begin my life. Because the truly sustainable life I crave is so much more than a job. It’s beaches to play volleyball, and parks to run with Cinder. It’s a city of new bars, new bookstores, and best of all, new friends. A life I’m content to exist in, rather than hunting down the silver lining. I’m not giving up the job search, but I refuse to let it dictate my future. For now, fuck the silver lining, it’s time for a new adventure.