Firsts,

Day 6 of the Writing Your Life challenge

Patricia gives us two minutes to write a list of our firsts that come to mind. Oddly enough the first thing that comes to my mind was the first time I smoked pot. Now a flashback of this day keeps playing in my head and I can’t think of any other firsts. I’m laughing. I stop for a minute to chat with my friend Tai, an intelligent, loving, creative, badass woman that lives in London but has her heart in Orlando, more specifically Disney.

Back to my list of firsts. First time I kissed a boy, first time I kissed a girl, first time I visited Disney, first car, first time I blacked out from drinking, my college graduation, becoming a mom, first day on a new job in a new country.

November 1st, 2017.

A couple of weeks ago I had been in that building for a job interview. I have had been there before a year ago or so for a community meeting led by Terry Olson, Director of the Orange County Arts &Cultural Affairs office, where a dozen people from different heritages met to discuss what came to be Terry’s most challenging project.

I parked and looked myself in the mirror. This is it. Your first day, I told myself. I walked into the building for my first day as a part-time admin assistant as if I was walking down the United Nations doorway for my first day as a task-force agent, ready to save the world. “Hi, I’m Thali Sugisawa, I’ll be working at Arts & Cultural Affairs. I don’t have a badge yet.”, I said to the security guard in the lobby. She handed me a guest badge, I clipped it to my jacket, and headed to the elevator. “Second floor?”, the nice woman inside the elevator asked. “No, third, please.” I wanted to tell her where I was headed to but she didn’t ask. I just imagined the dialogue inside my head, making sure I was pronouncing Cultural Affairs right.

When the door opened I concentrated on breathing in. I wanted to capture the aroma of that entire building. The sensation of accomplishment. I walked towards the last door on the right, the same way I walked towards my professor to receive my bachelor’s diploma more than a decade ago. Inside my head, I manage to hit play on “Bittersweet Symphony” by The Verve. I wanted to walk slower to make that sensation last forever, but I couldn’t wait to get into action. I look at the sign on the door. Arts & Cultural Affairs. Suite 345. It’s like my breathing is now synched with my steps. Before I let my boss know that I was there I stopped in the reception area of the office, where my desk awaited for me, and looked around. “I did it.”, I thought to myself.

That day I started a journey of deconstructing. While my previous job had taken me overseas several times, leading and presenting projects to stelar CEOs of multinational corporations, making more money than any of my friends, I’ve never felt more proud of myself than the day I walked into a government office to start on a part-time admin assistant job.

It was the first day of deconstructing — of starting again from zero. Lessons on humility, appreciation, resilience, communication, and self-worth flooded me in the following 18 months. These lessons built me up. From all to nothing, like an old house that is stripped off her old fixtures left only to her bones, to her core, because that’s worth keeping, it’s what keeps her standing, then the house is basically rebuilt. Comes in a better floor, stronger windows that can resist hurricanes, pipes are cleaned up from the inside, a new roof, fresh paint and a new season comes in waiting for a new set of firsts.