The last time I sat down to write, I was adjusting to going back to a full-time job, working 50+ hour weeks, and generally struggling with a balance between knowing I had to take work for financial reasons while also wondering if no permanent bites on my dream career outside of freelance for over a year were a sign that maybe I wasn’t meant to do what I so desperately wanted to do.
When I took this job back in March, I gave myself the following reasons and reminders:
- I knew it would be a temporary position (even if I found out I loved writing about finance, I didn’t want to do it for a career)
- I knew I was taking it mostly for money and insurance (I had been unemployed for a year and needed to get back on my feet)
This isn’t the first or second time I’ve been let go from a job in some capacity. I’m used to it. And surprisingly, I’m okay with it. I saw the writing on the wall before it happened. Mutually, it just wasn’t the fit they were looking for — and maybe part of that is on me, not pushing hard enough or trying hard enough or being dedicated/motivated enough to learn. This place was a hard fit for me, but I did learn about myself. I learned I don’t like the start-up world and the general culture that it employs. I learned that I can’t work with certain types of people and managers. I learned that no matter how much money you make, there are things you need to make you happy — you need to love the work you’re doing, or at the very least, you need to like the environment and the people who you spend all hours of your day with.
I knew I didn’t like what I was doing and I wasn’t a fan of the people I worked with. But I was boxed into a hole of sorts, in that I couldn’t and didn’t want to leave until I had something else under my belt. And making that happen, enough to justify leaving a job that paid me a lot of money, was something that was out of my control. So when I walked out of the office, I felt relief: relief at not having to go into an office where I didn’t like anything or anyone, relief at not worrying if I was going to be cornered with unrealistic expectations and scolding that would cause me to be angry and upset. After I left, I went to lunch and drinks at my favorite regular bar in Manhattan with two of my best friends. We ended up talking/venting/drinking until late in the night. I couldn’t stop my internal alarm clock from waking me up early the next morning, but I took the time to be lazy, moving slowly to get the day started. I caught up on all the television I’d been neglecting on my DVR, and didn’t get out of my pajamas until my lunch and errand date in Manhattan. I cleaned the bedroom and bathroom and re-did my entire closet, I organized a lot of files and I did the dishes. I enjoyed having the time ease back into having some sort of feeling of control, mentally and physically.
I spent part of this weekend with a good friend and enjoyed the freedom of not having to worry about putting my personal energy somewhere that takes up so much mental space. I slept in, went running for the first time in forever, took walks outside, and worked on some personal projects. I spent time with my boyfriend without being depressive and bitchy. I healed myself by remembering what it felt to look to the future with more clarity, understanding, and optimism, thanks to new projects and new opportunities — some of which I hope to be able to be more open about here, very soon.
There’s a lot that I’m not sure about, but I do know one thing — I’m where I’m supposed to be. It’s just taken me a little longer than necessary to get there.