The Beauty of an Imperfect Beginning
I was raised in a small village in Nepal, in a modest home where life was simple and predictable. So when I finally secured my first job in a big metro city after graduating, it felt like my entire world was about to shift.
It was also the first time I had ever boarded an airplane.
Even before the journey began, I was anxious. I’ve always struggled with motion sickness, but I kept reassuring myself: “This is a big step. You’ll be fine. Don’t ruin it.”
The flight itself felt overwhelming—strange noises, unfamiliar faces, everything new. I was too nervous to even ask for water, and I avoided buying anything at the airport because it all seemed too expensive. By the time I landed, I was already exhausted and badly dehydrated.
Then came the cab ride to the hotel my company had arranged.
It was much longer than I expected.
Halfway through the ride, I felt that familiar wave of nausea creeping in. At first, I ignored it, convincing myself I could hold on just a little longer. I didn’t want to make a scene—especially not on my first day in a new city.
But my body had other plans.
Within minutes, the nausea intensified. The panic set in—the sweating, the dizziness, that uncontrollable feeling—and suddenly, it happened.
I didn’t even get the chance to warn the driver or open a window. It was instant.
I threw up right there in the cab.
And as if that wasn’t bad enough, we were just about 50 meters away from the hotel, surrounded by people. The driver got upset immediately, and I just froze. I was already sick, embarrassed, and now completely overwhelmed. New city, no familiar faces—and this was my first experience.
All I could do was apologize. I handed him extra money for cleaning without hesitation. I didn’t argue—I just wanted to disappear from that moment as quickly as possible.
Then I somehow made my way into the hotel… still covered in vomit.
I faintly remember how elegant the place looked—bright lights, polished floors—but I couldn’t take any of it in. The staff guided me to my room, and the moment I got inside, I rushed straight to the bathroom.
I washed my clothes, cleaned my bag, and stood under the shower for what felt like forever—trying to wash away not just the mess, but the entire experience.
And strangely, after all that, I felt calm. Completely drained, but calm.
It was probably the most embarrassing start I could have imagined for my “new life.” But looking back, it also feels grounding in a way—like a reminder that life doesn’t always begin with perfect moments, and that’s okay.
Still… definitely not the grand “first day in the big city” story I had pictured 😅