call that a speed bump
The past year has felt like I’ve been in limbo.
It’s been a season of growing. It’s been a season of waiting. I made a goal at the beginning of this year that I would write 5 blog posts this year - an ambitious plan after not publishing a single thing for 3+ years.
I told myself I didn’t have anything to write about. What a lie!
Truthfully, I think I’ve just been embarrassed to share what my life has actually looked like lately (this seems to be a really common theme for me - waiting until things are okay to want to talk about it). Life has felt boring yet strangely private. Slow, but chaotic. It’s been weird.
Unemployment is incredibly humbling. The past 8 months or so has made me realize how much stock I place in my employment status and how big of a role that continues to play in how I measure my self-worth. I struggle to see the value in the work I do unless I’m getting paid, and when I do it never seems like enough. This insatiable mindset is fueled by pride - an unfounded urge to earn my keep.
Some days I’m able to recognize this as me just “being an asshole to myself” and I can shoo it away with a bit of logic and compassion, but some days it looms over me like a rain cloud and I wallow in it just as well as Eeyore does.
Then something changed.
After months of applications, interviews, and “Unfortunately we will not be moving forward” emails, I accepted what I thought was a dream position as a creative writer for a company in Downtown Houston in January. I mean, come on! In college I dreamed of working as a writer in the city, clicking away on my keyboard in a high-rise and meeting friends for lunch at fancy bistros.
And, you know, it was kind of like that! I commuted to work with my fellow 9-5ers (I was more like a 7-6er most days), ate sushi for lunch in the tower’s market, and I wrote and edited articles all day. It was so exciting. It was so…new.
I really struggled at first to adjust to the corporate lifestyle. There was a significant learning curve, especially coming from the teaching world, but it was exciting to learn something new and meet a different genre of people. I had nothing to compare it to, so I was constantly calling my dad (a corporate baddie (please don’t tell my dad I called him a baddie) of 30+ years) to ask him questions about how to do something, what an acronym stood for, or if certain things I was noticing were normal.
Turns out, a lot of things weren’t. At all.
I quit my job after a month of being there. Worst part about it? I can’t even talk about it. Legally.
Here’s the gist: Quitting didn’t exactly feel like a choice. Things happened very quickly and I didn’t feel safe. I all but ran out of the building on my lunch break.
I’m being vague on purpose, of course. I keep typing more and then immediately deleting it, just to be safe.
Things were pretty bad for about a week. I cried a lot. Sure, dealing with the aftermath of everything logistically was a pain, but underneath it all I felt the grip of an all too familiar friend: shame.
I had finally gotten the job. I had been so vocal with my friends and family about my desperation to find a job, and they had all been so incredibly supportive and excited when I eagerly told them I had been offered the position. There had been gifts and celebratory dinners, and phone calls to check-in on how things were going.
Now I had to tell them that I quit. After one measly month.
I was embarrassed. I was ashamed. I didn’t want to tell anyone.
Kim Kardashian ridiculed me on repeat in my mind: “It seems like no one wants to work these days!”
I do, Kimmy! I really do! I promise!
How silly of me to have thought that I was going to be met with the same judgement I had so quickly cast onto myself. How silly of me to forget how incredible my people are.
No one confirmed my suspicion that I was a complete failure with no drive or grit. No one told me I should have stayed. No one told me I made the wrong choice. I was welcomed with love, grace, legal advice, and a steady stream of affirmation when I started to doubt myself.
NOTE: I’m realizing now that this is probably how most people are going to find out I quit. Huh. Surprise!
But wait, there’s more!
Remember when I totaled my car in December? Well, I was actually on my way to the last interview for this job when it happened. Yeah, I know.
I was in an Exxon parking lot filling up my tank and I said a quick prayer. It went something like this:
“God, I’ve got the feeling they’re going to offer me this job. I really want to take it, but if this path won’t bring you glory, please tell me.”
About 5 minutes later, Ernie was sandwiched between a Ford Explorer and an Infiniti on 45.
I’ve asked God to send a flat tire instead next time.
So now what?
After what felt like the world’s strangest side quest, I found myself back in front of the computer, glazing over job postings on LinkedIn. Back to square one. Sigh.
In the midst of applying for jobs, I would go get something from the kitchen or go for a walk and think about how just the week before I had been at work doing so-and-so at this exact time. It was weird. It all felt wrong. Being home all day again was so much harder than it had been before, and I was tanking rapidly.
As I continued applying for jobs, I started thinking about times when I truly loved what I was doing.
I thought about my students crowding around my desk as they laughed and told me about their tumultuous love lives and weekend plans. I thought about late nights when I was a camp counselor, taking the incoming freshmen on ghost tours around campus. I thought about the regulars when I was a barista and the old man who came in every Sunday right at opening for a cup of coffee while he read his newspaper. Sometimes he would bring me a flower he picked from his yard.
I loved being a barista. It was the perfect in-between job, the perfect limbo job.
So I applied and accepted a position as one at a little locally-owned cafe in Old Town Spring, less than 10 minutes from my house. I started training yesterday and I loved it. It all came back so naturally to me. I’m so excited.
For the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m starting to find my footing again - like I can finally catch my breath and try again. Life has been tumultuous lately and I don’t know where I’m going, but I know one thing for sure:
I’m so grateful, man. For all of it.
Cheers to NDAs, divine intervention, and the dreaded frappuccino order during peak hours.
