I came here a stranger, not only to them. For I was a stranger in my own skin searching for some semblance of home. I grew to know myself through the cracks in the relationships that surrounded my dysfunctional daily routine. I began to find how disconnected from myself I really was and got hopelessly lost on the way back. Swimming, drowning through a sea of seemingly familiar things. But as familiar as I thought them to be, they were really all new experiences. For the first time in years I was really feeling, and those feelings were the unfamiliar that swallowed me whole and pushed me from trying to figure them out. Scared me into thinking returning to work as a barista was a bad decision and that this place could never be home. That I wouldn't be accepted, and that the rejection would cause me to hate the idea of returning. Change scares me. Once upon a time it would ignite my being and push me to discover new things about myself and the world around me. But everything seems to frighten me, pushing me back into old habits and keeping me from discovering what truly make me, me.
I had a moment the other night, I was getting ready to close and for the first time in the six months I have been at the location I reside, it felt like home. I had this overwhelming feeling that I couldn't remember what it was like for this place to be unfamiliar. It brought a smile to my face and I accepted the feeling rather than pushing it away. I accepted that I grew into a place that once seemed so scary and different. I have gained relationships with my coworkers and I really think that even though this place is in shambles currently, we can come together as a coffee family and rise above all the bologna. One shot of espresso at a time.