Sitting in the pickup line at my kids school one sunny day, I jokingly texted my friend, asking if she was hiring. I had had a rough day, and had come to the decision that it was time for a career change. "Maybe I'll half ass it again, like I always do," I thought to myself as I hit the send button. "Maybe I'll look around and then stay where I am, not satisfied, but not willing to go outside of my comfort zone to change it. Then I can continue to be my own victim and get people to feel bad for me while also simultaneously feeding my need to feel validated with a job that's not fulfilling for me."
Although I didn't dislike the people I worked with or the work I did, it wasn't my dream job. There was always this small voice in my head that would pipe up, "do you reallllllllllllllllly wanna be doing this for the rest of your life?" or, "this isn't what you want to do" or "If you die tomorrow, would you feel fulfilled in the areas surrounding your work life?" (a little morbid, I know, but I have a slight flair for the dramatic, and one crazy imagination.)
On the flip side of that coin is my drowning fear that I don't know what I want to do when I grow up. I didn't graduate from college (.8 GPA spring semester freshman year didn't really bode well with the 'rents or college), so I didn't have a degree to fall back on. I am a creator at heart, and totally right brain oriented. But whenever I thought of leaving my job, the words "starving artist" would pop into my head. Not to mention I wasn't in my late teens or twenties anymore, and it was no longer just about what would work for ME. I now have a husband, a dog, a car payment, a mortgage, and two beautiful children that all factor into every decision I make. Jumping ship, while tempting, isn't how I operate - in work and in life.
So there I was, inquiring about a job that was the complete opposite of what I was doing, just because I had a bad day and was trying to prove to myself that I COULD go out and look for a job, even though I wouldn't do anything about it.
Well… the universe had other plans for me. Turns out, my friend was looking for help. Part time, through the summer, three days a week. Mondays and Fridays off, which was perfect, since I had picked up teaching yoga on both of those days. The position was mine to take, if I wanted it. She was up front and warned me of anything she thought might be a potential turn off; the pay wouldn't be the same, (totally fine) the shop smells like oil and gasoline, (LOVE those smells) and that they don't have AC, which I hate anyways. We talked on the phone, I actually got giddy about the opportunity, and it was left as "talk to B, go over what you need to, take a few days and let me know… no hard feelings if you decide it's not the position for you."
I'm the kind of person that needs to know what is going to happen. I need a plan. No, ...really, ...I need a plan. I think that's why I love horror movies… you have NO FRICKIN' IDEA what is about to happen next and you know you're going to be completely scared out of your wits while that tension mounts and the music gets scarier and the scene gets darker as they climax to that point where ANYTHING will scare the living piss out of you, but you love it anyways, because once that initial moment happens, you think, "eh, that wasn't too bad!" (til the next scene). While ok for horror movies, not so much for my life. That would mean for me to take this opportunity would mean to throw out everything that I knew and was familiar with in favor of the unknown... and while I wouldn't really start referring to my life as a horror movie, it would definitely up the freak out factor of "what's going to happen next?!"
It was my moment to shit or get off the pot. I was being presented with a change, and a shiny new shit-free pot; why would I continue to sit around and wonder why the current pot smelled?
So, I did it… pardon the language (nah, not really), but I fucking DID it. I left my job. Gave my notice... Quit... Adios, amigos… See ya around like a donut, ... Peace out, ... I WILL let the door hit my ass on the way out, … Gonzo. No need to bore you with the details but I gave my notice towards the end of June and worked my last day on July 14th, 2015.
And I'm scared… I'm scared SHITLESS … but I got that shiny new shit-free pot.
It'll all work out. It has to. Because what other option do I have? I can't fail, and I don't mean that in a wide-eyed, crazy stare with my hair standing on end. I mean that I can't possibly fail at life because I left one career for a new one that may or may not work out. All I did was leave the path I was on that was comfortable to jump into the abyss of the unknown. I'd rather say "I tried," than "I wish I had taken that opportunity."
For now, my dream job entails working for my friend, teaching yoga, writing, taking pictures to sell, and creating from my right-brained mind. And that might change in a few weeks, months, or years- but for the first time, I'm ok with the unknown… I'm actually embracing it.
Love, Happiness & Coffee,
~ Heather ~