I have no fancy titles...
Heck, I don't even have fancy words.
Let me say it again; I have neglected this poor little blog. No, I haven’t been unbelievably busy. I haven’t been unbelievably un-busy either. I’ve just…been. And we have some catching up to do.
First of all, I am no longer employed. Since last December, my job at the animal clinic had been getting less and less enjoyable. The other kennel worker took to calling in nearly every week, and sometimes more, leaving me to work for her on my days off. The days she did work, she left me with unfinished chores to take care of in addition to my day's work. She always wanted to change hours making my schedule increasingly irregular, and I couldn't sleep anymore, paranoid about getting called in, or dreading all the extra work she'd leave me. And then, on the 16th, I was cornered by my boss, on yet another day I was called in to work for that infuriating woman, and was told that MY work has been 'unsatisfactory'. Nice. Oh, and immeasurably humiliating as well. With the support of my parents, to whom I have been paying rent, I quit on Saturday. No notice, just wrote out a letter, taped my key to it, and left. But not after covering for the unreliable coworker just one more time, because I think it was the right thing to do, if not for them, then for me.
You may have noticed that I said I’d been paying rent to my parents. That’s because I moved into an apartment in January…and moved back home very soon after. Do you ever just *know* when it’s not right? That was me. I wanted desperately to just move forward, to take a step toward, well, something. But that was the problem. Nothing else was different. I was still without a social life, I was still in a band-aid job, I was still in a town that I have felt like a stranger in for most of my life. I was just isolating myself, becoming separate from the two people here, my parents, that were a source of comfort. It really wasn’t right. For the first couple weeks back home I felt ashamed and humiliated, angry with myself me I couldn’t make it work, that I wouldn’t make it work. But it wasn’t right. I know that.
Since quitting my job, I’ve obviously had a lot of time to think. I was helped through my ‘ordeals’ with the help of a couple of wonderful friends and my parents, but when it comes down to it, I’m still here with my thoughts, analyzing, dreaming, hating, and loving. As far as I’ve come in my photography on my own, I recognize that a degree would be immensely helpful in finding work and coming into a satisfying career. I’ve also recognized that I am terrified of the unknown, of change, and of moving forward. I MUST change that. I MUST step out of my comfort zone and not turn back if I want a shot at happiness.
Just today I emailed my old high school counselor asking for help in looking for photography programs in my state and the surrounding area. Just to look for now, because, yes, I’m terrified. But I’m taking a step, as small as it is.
We’ll see what happens.
Let me say it again; I have neglected this poor little blog. No, I haven’t been unbelievably busy. I haven’t been unbelievably un-busy either. I’ve just…been. And we have some catching up to do.
First of all, I am no longer employed. Since last December, my job at the animal clinic had been getting less and less enjoyable. The other kennel worker took to calling in nearly every week, and sometimes more, leaving me to work for her on my days off. The days she did work, she left me with unfinished chores to take care of in addition to my day's work. She always wanted to change hours making my schedule increasingly irregular, and I couldn't sleep anymore, paranoid about getting called in, or dreading all the extra work she'd leave me. And then, on the 16th, I was cornered by my boss, on yet another day I was called in to work for that infuriating woman, and was told that MY work has been 'unsatisfactory'. Nice. Oh, and immeasurably humiliating as well. With the support of my parents, to whom I have been paying rent, I quit on Saturday. No notice, just wrote out a letter, taped my key to it, and left. But not after covering for the unreliable coworker just one more time, because I think it was the right thing to do, if not for them, then for me.
You may have noticed that I said I’d been paying rent to my parents. That’s because I moved into an apartment in January…and moved back home very soon after. Do you ever just *know* when it’s not right? That was me. I wanted desperately to just move forward, to take a step toward, well, something. But that was the problem. Nothing else was different. I was still without a social life, I was still in a band-aid job, I was still in a town that I have felt like a stranger in for most of my life. I was just isolating myself, becoming separate from the two people here, my parents, that were a source of comfort. It really wasn’t right. For the first couple weeks back home I felt ashamed and humiliated, angry with myself me I couldn’t make it work, that I wouldn’t make it work. But it wasn’t right. I know that.
Since quitting my job, I’ve obviously had a lot of time to think. I was helped through my ‘ordeals’ with the help of a couple of wonderful friends and my parents, but when it comes down to it, I’m still here with my thoughts, analyzing, dreaming, hating, and loving. As far as I’ve come in my photography on my own, I recognize that a degree would be immensely helpful in finding work and coming into a satisfying career. I’ve also recognized that I am terrified of the unknown, of change, and of moving forward. I MUST change that. I MUST step out of my comfort zone and not turn back if I want a shot at happiness.
Just today I emailed my old high school counselor asking for help in looking for photography programs in my state and the surrounding area. Just to look for now, because, yes, I’m terrified. But I’m taking a step, as small as it is.
We’ll see what happens.
posted by Shelly at
5:43 PM
1 Comments:
Terrified, yet moving forward--I can't think of a better place to be! You'll make it, Shelly, you really will!
Post a Comment
<< Home