DAY 8: The Importance of January 25
Thursday, January 26, 2023
WFIW of the Day: Instant ramen for breakfast. Terrible for my body. Balm for my soul.
I never realize until it’s too late that January 25 has come and gone.
Four years ago, on January 25, 2019, my best friend in the wide world, my brother for over two decades, died after a four-month battle with liver cancer.
Four years is not that long, but already, I only remember Andrew’s deathiversary (there’s gotta be a better word for that…) because his loved ones start posting notes to him on Facebook.
Facebook also reminded me today that eight years ago, on January 25, 2015, I was in the dreary bleak of Akron, Ohio, still hanging on to the security blanket of my law degree.
Eight years ago, I was living with Andrew in his cozy two-bedroom condo in Hollywood. I had quit my high-paying corporate law job and moved in with Andrew at a significant friends-and-family rent discount. I was barely making any money, I was completely directionless… dead in the water. My savings account was dwindling and I still had over $100K in law school loans that I had to pay off.
Most days, I was too depressed to get off the couch and go out into the real world.
Then, my old law firm called and asked if I’d like to take on a temporary job. It was for an energy company in Ohio - they were preparing a huge annual government filing and needed an extra attorney brain for a few weeks.
I asked for $100 an hour*. I was astonished when they said yes to that. The next week, I was on a flight to Akron.
I remember strange details about my time in Akron:
The feeling of getting into a freezing cold car in a full-length down parka, hat and gloves…
Going to P.F. Changs and eating steamed veggies and tofu at the bar ‘cause it was the only decent restaurant close by…
How a couch, TV and fridge full of leftovers could make a Hilton hotel room feel strangely home-like…
The detached politeness of co-workers who knew I was going to be gone in less than a month…
Sitting in my bare, flourescent-lit office with not much to do, feeling the minutes tick by, wasted…
>>>It wasn’t horrible, but it solidified one thing in my heart: I NEVER wanted to be an attorney again.
When Andrew died four years later, in January of 2019, that solidified something for me, too.
I will never forget how much can change in such an absurdly short time as FOUR MONTHS.
Andrew was 38, went to the gym almost daily, ate vegetables with every meal, and lit up every single room he walked into.
And four months later, he was skeletal and yellow and barely breathing and then gone.
That terrifies me and clarifies me.
It makes me want to GO and DO what my heart desires. The scary shit. The CREATE-ive shit.
I never want to sit in a gray, snowed-in box again, feeling like my life is not of my own making.
Andrew, you would be so proud of me.
With Sadness and Fire,
Shinah
* As a calligrapher, I charged $250 an hour for my services. My 2015 ex-attorney self would have been absolutely mind-blown by that shit.