Time to "Turn and Face the Strange" - Again. (More Ch-ch-ch-Changes)
I quit my job as a chauffeur last month. The act itself wasn't a surprise - the writing had been on the wall for a while - but the timing was. Due to circumstances that came way out of left field, I did something I've never done before: I quit on the spot. Without another job lined up.
David Bowie, again. In 2016, I wrote "Turn and Face the Strange - Changes", about future, known changes. Now, three years later (there's that 3 again that I talked about then), I'm talking about surprise and unknown changes. And while I thought my next writing about change would reference Tears for Fears or Yes, it is still David Bowie's musical conversation that fits best right now.
I think I enjoyed 2016's perspective better. This one's not as much fun. Exciting, yes, but not the fun kind.
The specific circumstances around my abrupt departure don't matter, and certainly don't serve any purpose other than to spread negativity and encourage the lingering hurt I still feel. I did love the work.
I was brought up with a strong work ethic to model. Sometimes I think it was too strong, where work mattered more than anything else - more than life. Yet I followed it. Because RESPONSIBILITIES.
That word. I hate it - or, rather, I hate the meaning of it that I've been taught, the fact that the ultimate definition of it comes down to money, and money over life. Yes, I understand the need of one for the other, believe me, but I've been coming to the realization that the laying down of the life because of the (all-caps) RESPONSIBILITIES - while considered to be noble by some - is foolish. There's no nobility in martyrdom; the only thing reaped from living like that is post-humous commentary, "She did what she had to do." Yeah, and she died doing it.
There is no life if you lay it down to have one.
We work hard, and then harder, using the justification that 'every little bit helps'. I've reached a point where that 'every little bit' wasn't enough to compensate for what I was losing - and not enough to be counted as any kind of gain. I have been realizing more and more that being forced to choose between time and money is something we all do over the course of our lives - and we do it without even realizing it, sometimes. And then we have a moment of realization that we are making a Choice (capital C), and that both time and money seem to carry an equal necessity and making the decision is excruciatingly painful because you realize that you can't fully be happy with either one. It's a double-edged sword.
And here I am, trying to tend to the wounds of the choices made on each side. I feel a little like Joni Mitchell, living 'both sides now' simultaneously. I've had a lot more time this month than I've had in a while, and have been able to live a little more, actually interacting with those around me. I've had quite the week, and not just because of my birthday.
Job hunting sucks. This new method of online-applying actually takes longer than the old-fashioned way of just showing up. I'm just now starting to hear back from places I applied to 4 and 5 months ago (remember I said the writing was on the wall) - from some, the second and third time.
And because of that R word, I took the first one I was offered. And when I'm fully 'in', I will be getting a second one (also because of that R word). This is okay with me, because I know that this time working extra (Ha, 'extra'!) hours, I will have more control over how much of my life I sacrifice - which will give me a better return on my investment.
And yet, sometimes I find myself ... melancholy, and quite possibly humiliated, as if I feel like I've taken a step backwards. I know I made the right decision, so I don't have to justify that to myself. My new boss is extremely appreciative of me (and you can't put a price on that). My commute is a 3-minute walk.
One thing I do know is that I have a job to 'take care of business'. I know what my passion is and where I want to go; I am a writer, and until I'm doing that in a way that can support me, any outside job is just a means to an end. That means that whatever job I take doesn't matter because I'm not looking for a career path - and I'd be shooting myself and my dreams in the foot if I took the kind of job that I ended up identifying myself as.
When I feel humiliated, I have to remind myself of that: I am not my job, and my job is not me. This is me, right here, right now, sitting at the computer typing. The girl who just had 2 out of 3 proposals for freelance writing jobs accepted!
Some stairs are steeper than others, and stopping to rest on one step does not mean you haven't climbed all the others - nor has it changed your upward direction.
I do know that, even if I have to repeat it to myself once in a while.
And then I think about driving, my ultimate therapy. No matter where I'm going, whenever I see something I think is beautiful, unique, funny ... strange, I stop and take pictures, even if it means I have to turn around and go back to it.
"Turn and face the strange." I guess that's what I'm doing right now - because it isn't the destination, it's the journey, right?
I'm stopping to take pictures.
David Bowie, again. In 2016, I wrote "Turn and Face the Strange - Changes", about future, known changes. Now, three years later (there's that 3 again that I talked about then), I'm talking about surprise and unknown changes. And while I thought my next writing about change would reference Tears for Fears or Yes, it is still David Bowie's musical conversation that fits best right now.
I think I enjoyed 2016's perspective better. This one's not as much fun. Exciting, yes, but not the fun kind.
The specific circumstances around my abrupt departure don't matter, and certainly don't serve any purpose other than to spread negativity and encourage the lingering hurt I still feel. I did love the work.
I was brought up with a strong work ethic to model. Sometimes I think it was too strong, where work mattered more than anything else - more than life. Yet I followed it. Because RESPONSIBILITIES.
That word. I hate it - or, rather, I hate the meaning of it that I've been taught, the fact that the ultimate definition of it comes down to money, and money over life. Yes, I understand the need of one for the other, believe me, but I've been coming to the realization that the laying down of the life because of the (all-caps) RESPONSIBILITIES - while considered to be noble by some - is foolish. There's no nobility in martyrdom; the only thing reaped from living like that is post-humous commentary, "She did what she had to do." Yeah, and she died doing it.
There is no life if you lay it down to have one.
We work hard, and then harder, using the justification that 'every little bit helps'. I've reached a point where that 'every little bit' wasn't enough to compensate for what I was losing - and not enough to be counted as any kind of gain. I have been realizing more and more that being forced to choose between time and money is something we all do over the course of our lives - and we do it without even realizing it, sometimes. And then we have a moment of realization that we are making a Choice (capital C), and that both time and money seem to carry an equal necessity and making the decision is excruciatingly painful because you realize that you can't fully be happy with either one. It's a double-edged sword.
And here I am, trying to tend to the wounds of the choices made on each side. I feel a little like Joni Mitchell, living 'both sides now' simultaneously. I've had a lot more time this month than I've had in a while, and have been able to live a little more, actually interacting with those around me. I've had quite the week, and not just because of my birthday.
Job hunting sucks. This new method of online-applying actually takes longer than the old-fashioned way of just showing up. I'm just now starting to hear back from places I applied to 4 and 5 months ago (remember I said the writing was on the wall) - from some, the second and third time.
And because of that R word, I took the first one I was offered. And when I'm fully 'in', I will be getting a second one (also because of that R word). This is okay with me, because I know that this time working extra (Ha, 'extra'!) hours, I will have more control over how much of my life I sacrifice - which will give me a better return on my investment.
And yet, sometimes I find myself ... melancholy, and quite possibly humiliated, as if I feel like I've taken a step backwards. I know I made the right decision, so I don't have to justify that to myself. My new boss is extremely appreciative of me (and you can't put a price on that). My commute is a 3-minute walk.
One thing I do know is that I have a job to 'take care of business'. I know what my passion is and where I want to go; I am a writer, and until I'm doing that in a way that can support me, any outside job is just a means to an end. That means that whatever job I take doesn't matter because I'm not looking for a career path - and I'd be shooting myself and my dreams in the foot if I took the kind of job that I ended up identifying myself as.
When I feel humiliated, I have to remind myself of that: I am not my job, and my job is not me. This is me, right here, right now, sitting at the computer typing. The girl who just had 2 out of 3 proposals for freelance writing jobs accepted!
Some stairs are steeper than others, and stopping to rest on one step does not mean you haven't climbed all the others - nor has it changed your upward direction.
I do know that, even if I have to repeat it to myself once in a while.
And then I think about driving, my ultimate therapy. No matter where I'm going, whenever I see something I think is beautiful, unique, funny ... strange, I stop and take pictures, even if it means I have to turn around and go back to it.
"Turn and face the strange." I guess that's what I'm doing right now - because it isn't the destination, it's the journey, right?
I'm stopping to take pictures.
Any life worth living is worth recording!
ReplyDelete