I was busy building the life I described in my last post. I was busy pouring my whole self into my passion; I was busy researching and studying and flying and driving and teaching. And then I was busy watching it all. fall. apart.
I’m not busy anymore.
But back to my last post. Ah yes. My last post. That’s sort-of why I’m here. See, I thought I’d start writing about career stuff again (or, rather, lack-of-career stuff). And then I was like ‘oh right, I had that blog years ago’. And then I came back on here and read my last post. And I was like: oh fuck. That’s ironic.
I wrote that post–THIS POST— on March 1st, 2013. You really should pause to read it. I’ll wait right here.
*opens a new tab and scrolls slowly through Facebook*
Two years, one month and one day after writing that post–on April 2nd, 2015–I lost that job.
I’ve gone through many phases in the past almost-six months of non-employment. I plan to share all of them here. But after reading that last post, I thought this would be a great place to start in sharing my new story. Because after all, what’s the point of publishing all of your innermost thoughts online if not to revisit them years later when they are especially painful? Am I right?
Breaking it Down: My Last Post, Retrospectively Annotated
2013: “I have a secure job. Well–I have a job that’s about as secure as any job is in the United States in 2013. I’m a tenured public school teacher with a livable (if not grand) salary, benefits, and a pension plan.”
2015: Yeah I did. I had all of that. I’m glad to know that at the time, at least I knew what I was giving up. And in retrospect, it was a fucking GREAT salary.
2013: “I own a home less than half a mile from the school in which I work.”
2015: Yeah I did. In fact, I still own that home, and the school is still right there. Though I don’t work there anymore, and soon I may lose my house because I can’t afford my (tiny) mortgage. And I traded that in for a job which required daily commutes from New Mexico to Massachusetts (for example; it was rarely the same two states). Around eighty percent of the time, I’m still not sorry for making that decision (I love New Mexico, Massachusetts, and everywhere in between) . But the other twenty percent is a bitch.
2013: “It is a great school, filled with amazing teachers who care about children. And the children are pretty awesome, too.”
2013: “And I’m quitting that job to work as a consultant. I will not have benefits, I will not have job security, I will not have a retirement plan.”
2015: No. I don’t have any of those things. And after going into the world of independent contracting, I have holy-shit-debt. In case you are wondering what holy-shit-debt is, it is defined as:
Holy-Shit Debt: noun. (HO-lee/shIT/det) 1. When you work for yourself and thus require credit, but have the money to pay off said credit because all of your work expenses are reimbursable so credit companies give you INSANE credit limits because you appear to be credit-worthy except that you don’t ever pay your balance off in full because you are self employed and thus don’t know when your next check is coming and also interest exists. And then you get quote-un-quote fired and YOU. ARE. FUCKED. You are so fucked that you start using the word fuck in posts you are publishing publicly because there’s really nothing worse that can happen to you.
2013: “But I’m still leaving. I’m still taking this risk. I’m doing it for many practical reasons, but I’m doing it for one huge (impractical?) reason–because I refuse to make decisions out of fear. And not taking this opportunity would be to cower in my complacency.”
2015: Complacency has its place. In complacency, there’s often the ability to, like…pay for things. You know, things like food and shelter. And box wine.
2013: “I believe that if I’m willing to take this risk, I’ll be willing to take another when/if the need arises.”
2015: This is the only tiny, glimmering light in all of this. This one sentence right here.
Because the need has arisen.
I have to take another risk. I have no other choice. So I will. So I am.
This post effectively resurrects this blog. In the coming days, weeks, months, and (gods I hope not) years, I will be documenting my search for yet another life. Because just because you are almost-36 does not mean you know what you want to be when you grow up.