I made a mistake; I’m human. I have to keep telling myself this to help minimize the guilt associated with resigning from another job without having a new one lined up. I made a bad choice when I accepted the position as Help Desk Manager back in April, but my intentions were noble and made sense at the time. As is my M.O., I turned all of the questionable aspects around to suit my needs and kept a positive outlook. It would work out, because I needed it to work out.
I don’t regret it—I make a point of not having regrets in life because they never prove constructive. I did pick up a few skills that I can add to my resume, and I made a decent salary all summer. I also learned more about myself, and that’s invaluable.
I’ve learned that while I’m not meant to be engaged in public speaking 100% of the time, I’m also not meant to be hidden away in a corner cubicle staring at a computer for 12 hours every day either. That was a special kind of nightmarish hell I wouldn’t wish on anyone. I’m not as interested in training users in a software system as I thought I might be—although I’m actually good at it.
I thrive when I’m challenged, and there was no challenge whatsoever in this position. In an attempt to minimize the anxiety and fear associated with my previous job at HFH, I entered into an entry-level position that I would have mastered directly out of high school without any higher education at all. I take full responsibility for this mistake, but I’m also shocked that I was selected for the job considering my background and credentials. Either way—it’s over
I’m the luckiest girl in the world because I have a supportive husband who recognizes my need to take a step back and learn even more about myself before entering into the next position. I want nothing more than to find my career, and to thrive and excel in it until I retire. I’ve had way too many jobs in my life and envy those—like my husband—who have enjoyed careers of 20 plus years in the same organization. I’d love to find that, but for me, the anxiety and panic involved in wrong jobs is too great to stand.
I’m making a lot of headway in figuring out how my anxieties and the patterns they’ve created in the workplace for me are entwined and can be unraveled and conquered. I have the luxury of taking a few months off now to concentrate on this full-time. I have many workshops and courses lined up in the field that I’m thinking may be right for me, so that I can get a feel for it, and find out for certain whether it’s the right direction for me. I know how fortunate I am to have this opportunity; I know that few people can just stop working to focus on their own needs and happiness. I’m eternally grateful, and also immensely guilty over it.
The other bonus in this situation is that I can focus full time on writing my memoir. I’m attending two intensive workshops in memoir writing and publishing in the next few months. I’ve outlined a calendar of deadlines, and I see no reason why I couldn’t have a solid first full draft by the end of this year. I’m focused and I believe my goals are realistic. I have the ultimate editor and advisor living by my side (did you think I came up with this blog title?), and I truly believe now is the time. When I’m working full time I always dream of having all of my time free to write my book—and here it is. I’m going to do this.
Blogging is a wonderful exercise in motivation and inspiration for me. The feedback that I get from all of my readers is the fuel that keeps me going. I finally believe that I have something of value to say; my voice is worthwhile. I want to do this thing because someone out there is going to feel the way that I have, and benefit from knowing that it’s not freaky or unusual. Whether it’s been told before or not, my story is going to matter.
We’re celebrating this weekend. I’ve been given a gift, and I’m not going to waste it.