I left my job a few months ago. It was something I had pursued for several years but that, toward the end, made me miserable--immovable, staring, empty miserable, crying every day miserable. I didn't get out of it what I expected: It didn't bring the sense of fulfillment I had hoped, I wasn't helping anyone except my boss, and the money sure as hell didn't make up for the fact that I had no life.
I found myself reading literary and teaching blogs, fantasizing about doing something else, something more creative, something in which the bottom line wasn't a transfer of money between often equally-culpable actors... something more me. So, I decided that I wanted to write and I wanted to teach. I decided I was done with law.
And I left.
Turns out, grand gestures like leaving a career without future direction don't necessarily create momentum. Who'da thunk?
The problem is a simultaneous surfeit and dearth of options. Nothing jumps out, and I don't know where to look first. I feel like a cartoon trying to run in seven directions at once and getting snapped back, painfully, onto himself. I know it happened to that lech-y wolf a few times.
The solution is crafts. And cooking. And reading. And... writing. All of which I am going to do more of, some of which I may write about here. Or not. Really, I just hope to chronicle what really are wonderful changes coming about in my life!
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