This week, after many months of being unhappy at work, I handed in my notice. To badly paraphrase Charles Dickens, it was the right thing to do, it was the wrong thing to do. Right because I could feel myself sinking into depression, it was making me ill, I couldn't do right for doing wrong in the eyes of my manager and it was starting to erode away my confidence and self-esteem. It was wrong because I don't have a job to go to, I only have a week's notice to work and ... well now I'm scrabbling around looking for a job!
But here's the thing: I'm not scared. I feel invigorated. I feel that anything is possible. The more banal truth is that I will probably temp for a while before opting to take another job that doesn't stretch my creative abilities and that I like well enough but doesn't inspire me. Why should I be any different to the vast majority of the drones? But unless and until that happens, I am determined to see the world as mine, just waiting to be claimed. I am determined to fly by the seat of my pants and believe that because I am prepared to take a chance, life might just take a chance on me.
I'm happy! I feel like a child wriggling her toes in the hot sand of the sort of beach that doesn't really exist in Britain outside of our imaginations. I know I am alive and that somehow things are going to be more than okay.
No comments:
Post a Comment