I quit my job.
I gave a proper two weeks notice, and ended up staying for a little over three to help them sort out their problems. Staying true to character, I ultimately went about it in the classiest manner possible. But no matter how you look at it, I still quit my job, and I'm still currently unemployed.
Throughout my entire life, my professional path has somewhat been dictated to me (in a loving manner, no less). And, for the most part, I've always abided by the rules, and have always trusted that the maternal voice in the back of my head that sometimes keeps me awake at night with a deluge of guilt has only ever had the best intentions for me, and is attempting to stop me from making the same mistakes that she did thirty years ago.
"Don't ever quit a job without having a new one lined up," she said.
So now, in my most triumphant moment of rebellion, I have to question: how long will it take for the euphoria of freedom to wear off and be replaced with a looming sense of despair and hopelessness?
Things don't seem terribly discouraging at the moment: I love the peacefulness of being at home by myself for ten hours a day, and the daily structure I've created that keeps me motivated during that time. MW and I have just been gifted a trip up north, to visit my dad for his 55th birthday. I'm looking into photography internships for once, in an effort to prioritize passion over immediate prosperity. And, perhaps most importantly, I'm planning a trip to Vancouver with MW for New Years.
I'm actually happy. I'm scared shitless of the hole I may/ may not be currently digging for myself (both financially and professionally), but happy nonetheless. I have things to look forward to, inspirations to keep me going, and, for the love of all that is holy, I don't wake up every morning Monday through Friday, wishing that I could just magically get the day over-with and return to my residential sanctuary.
Sometimes, I become really jealous of people who seem to have it all figured out by the time they graduate college. I received my degree three years ago, and I'm no closer to an answer now than I was back then. MW always wanted to be an editor, and, within a month of graduating college, he accepted a job offer to do just that. It's nice to see him so content with his work, and so comfortable within the company that took him on three years ago, but I just can't relate. I'm hardly a flighty person; in fact, I usually become extremely anxious without consistency and structure. But a 9-5 desk job just doesn't cut it for me. The worrisome part is that I still can't pinpoint a single career path that DOES inspire.
There's another voice contradicting my mom's in the battle over complete control of my subconscious. "Sometimes, the most interesting people in the world never actually figure out what they want to be when they grow up," he says. And he's right, to a certain extent; but would I rather be interesting and poor, or wealthy and mundane? Is there a balance between the two? Can I become mundinteresting?
I think I'm just waiting for someone to tell me that I'm doing the right thing for myself, and validate the drastic steps that I've taken in the past few weeks. If you, dear reader, can't be the one to provide that, will you at least lend a hand in helping me plan the most amazing, Vancouver-y vacation ever?
I gave a proper two weeks notice, and ended up staying for a little over three to help them sort out their problems. Staying true to character, I ultimately went about it in the classiest manner possible. But no matter how you look at it, I still quit my job, and I'm still currently unemployed.
Throughout my entire life, my professional path has somewhat been dictated to me (in a loving manner, no less). And, for the most part, I've always abided by the rules, and have always trusted that the maternal voice in the back of my head that sometimes keeps me awake at night with a deluge of guilt has only ever had the best intentions for me, and is attempting to stop me from making the same mistakes that she did thirty years ago.
"Don't ever quit a job without having a new one lined up," she said.
So now, in my most triumphant moment of rebellion, I have to question: how long will it take for the euphoria of freedom to wear off and be replaced with a looming sense of despair and hopelessness?
Things don't seem terribly discouraging at the moment: I love the peacefulness of being at home by myself for ten hours a day, and the daily structure I've created that keeps me motivated during that time. MW and I have just been gifted a trip up north, to visit my dad for his 55th birthday. I'm looking into photography internships for once, in an effort to prioritize passion over immediate prosperity. And, perhaps most importantly, I'm planning a trip to Vancouver with MW for New Years.
I'm actually happy. I'm scared shitless of the hole I may/ may not be currently digging for myself (both financially and professionally), but happy nonetheless. I have things to look forward to, inspirations to keep me going, and, for the love of all that is holy, I don't wake up every morning Monday through Friday, wishing that I could just magically get the day over-with and return to my residential sanctuary.
Sometimes, I become really jealous of people who seem to have it all figured out by the time they graduate college. I received my degree three years ago, and I'm no closer to an answer now than I was back then. MW always wanted to be an editor, and, within a month of graduating college, he accepted a job offer to do just that. It's nice to see him so content with his work, and so comfortable within the company that took him on three years ago, but I just can't relate. I'm hardly a flighty person; in fact, I usually become extremely anxious without consistency and structure. But a 9-5 desk job just doesn't cut it for me. The worrisome part is that I still can't pinpoint a single career path that DOES inspire.
There's another voice contradicting my mom's in the battle over complete control of my subconscious. "Sometimes, the most interesting people in the world never actually figure out what they want to be when they grow up," he says. And he's right, to a certain extent; but would I rather be interesting and poor, or wealthy and mundane? Is there a balance between the two? Can I become mundinteresting?
I think I'm just waiting for someone to tell me that I'm doing the right thing for myself, and validate the drastic steps that I've taken in the past few weeks. If you, dear reader, can't be the one to provide that, will you at least lend a hand in helping me plan the most amazing, Vancouver-y vacation ever?
VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
ponycorn:
t_h_l_r:
I was once told that the word (content) didn't cut it for her, by the lady I was with at the time, but she didn't know that it was the affirmation that she had me heart, mind, body and soul through thick and thin. I only hope that you gain strength through this, go about life as you see fit and know that the ones who truly love you will always have your back! I find this site to be a place where people, all people. Can find friends or respect!