The last few weeks have been very emotional, saying good bye to my clients, many of whom I've had the pleasure of serving for many years. Just as difficult was saying good bye to clients I haven't had very long, folks that I was just getting to know.
This job isn't just about the paycheck. It's also about the relationships that are built over time. I know personal details about some peoples' lives that I'm pretty sure they don't share with just anybody and I feel honoured to have been entrusted with this information. Telling my clients that I was leaving felt like I was breaking up with them and each telling felt like a knife in my heart. Many clients were visibly shaken when I told them and some cried. It was very humbling to know I meant that much to them.
I have a darling lady who comes every Friday morning for her weekly set. This lady is my hero. She celebrated her 87th birthday this spring. She still lives in her own house, drives, is mentally sharp and pretty darned spry for being 87. She had told me, several times, that she hoped she died before I retired because she just couldn't imagine anyone else doing her hair. She loves me and I adore her. Telling her I was leaving is right up there as one of the most difficult things I've ever had to do. As if the knife wasn't in deep enough, her sigh of resignation was the death twist of the blade.
I've shed many, many tears since making my decision to leave the job I love; the job I wanted to do since I was 6 years old. I feel very blessed that I was able to fulfill my dream of being a hairstylist. It all seems surreal; that the career I wanted from such a young age and worked so hard to achieve, going to school and working part time while raising my eldest daughter on my own, is now over.
I've had days where I wanted to stay home because I had things to do, or because it was too nice a day to be cooped up inside, but not once did I ever have a day that I didn't want to go to work because of the job itself. I can honestly say I've loved every minute of it.