Lost in Transition (And Feeling Like A Lost Little Girl)

I started moving bits and pieces of my belongings about – all those annual reports, seminar and course materials, personal stuff [which I treasure above the rest!], stationeries, shoes [oh yes], even brollies… from last Friday. Thursday evening was spent shaking my head in disbelief at the sheer amount of rubbish I’ve managed to accumulate over the past four years and slowly tackling them – identifying those to be shredded, those that can’t be shredded went immediately into the black plastic bag [I do sympathise with the cleaner who has to clear our excess baggage of rubbish, I do!]. I decided against recycling any paper as I didn't want to risk compromising secrecy [yes, I do feel bad about those trees]. The shredder had decided to quit working too during Thursday lunchtime itself.

I suppose I should be thankful that my move is within the same building a few floors up and not to a different block/building/location/premises altogether. It makes me wonder how those due to retire or resign feel – or maybe they don’t feel anything but joy at leaving this organisation for greener pastures. My friend told me to apply this rule: throw away anything that you haven’t used for more than a year. OK, she has a point but I still find myself mulling, ‘Do I still need this?’, ‘Will this come in handy in the future?’ and to be on the safe side, it’s always tempting to just pack everything, well, just in case.

Thus far, this new floor has not yet has me feeling enthusiastic at all, but there you have it, there’s no Undo button like in Word/Excel/PowerPoint documents, no U-turns allowed, so we’ll just have to trudge down this road to the unknown. Unlike the previous relocations we have had to endure in the past, this is entirely different as we will now be subsumed into various new departments. Yes, that means we will not see familiar faces that often anymore. It’s having to make new friends, learning totally new subject matters altogether, adapting to new office culture and environment, yes, a conscious effort to push oneself out from one’s comfort zone. I don’t know how long it will take me to feel totally at ease in the new work-land but like it or not, I’ll have to weather it, just like everyone else. And maybe, who knows, just maybe, I can really get along with new people as they will with me [OK, that just crossed my mind; I didn’t think that people may have problems adapting to me before. Perhaps I come across as snobbish, unfriendly, aloof, fierce, intimidating, to some people. Gosh!].

My first few minutes here were a bit unnerving. I felt like I want to hold someone’s hand all the time. Silly really. I was happy and enthusiastic to start primary school when other kids were crying and bawling their eyes out [maybe that was also ‘cause I didn’t go to kindergarten so I was eager to start school and make new friends]. I was happy when I went to boarding school despite staying there for five whole years [I had this romantic idea of boarding school from reading those Enid Blyton books!]. Then it changed - I was nervous and scared when I first flew out on my own to England but I had no choice but to continue my journey alone, from Heathrow Terminal 3 to Terminal 1 for my domestic flight to Manchester and from Manchester, cabbing it Alone to my university because I simply couldn't take the train, not with my heavy luggage. I was scared when I first reported myself to work. I wasn’t as scared when I went to do my Master though. But now, I am scared [I wasn’t all that scared when I went to the Police station to make my police report two weeks ago, but even then, I needed someone with me to literally hold my hands]. Now I feel like holding on tight to someone’s hands, just as I used to do with my parents when I was a girl.

When I was a little girl, I held my parents’ hands a lot. When we walked, they held my hands. When we crossed the road, they held my hands tightly and helped me cross. They made me feel safe, secure and protected from the big, bad world, and I felt like nothing could hurt me. I just wish I could hold their hands forever [OK, I still hold their hands when we walk and cross the road but now we guide each other and make sure the other is all right - instead of them just guiding me and making sure I was all right previously]. As I grow older and stayed farther and further away from home, I started developing homesickness. And I felt especially homesick when faced with academic-related problems, when I felt down or thought I was in trouble. I even felt homesick when I was sitting for exams during my Master even though I was hardly a little girl. I was also homesick when I was in India back in August, all Alone in my hotel room. Well, I feel homesick now [and I am living away from home]. I feel Lost. I’m no longer a little girl but I feel Lost.

Yes, Lost, not just in this new work-land but also in life. Even though I can read maps quite well for a girl, unfortunately, there’s no life roadmap I can read.