Saturday, February 10, 2018

I am not a tree

When I was in college, a motivational saying mysteriously appeared on my fridge. You know the kind, where it seems like a waste of paper because literally everyone knows it and why would anyone find motivation in a thing like that? It read, "if you don't like where you are, change it. You are not a tree."

I said this to myself as I sat, crying, in my car four months ago. Guess it wasn't a waste of paper after all.

That day, I decided I needed to quit my job of over two years and find something that made me happy. It was a difficult shift. I am a not-risk-taker. But I was unhappy, burned out, and I was not a freaking tree, dang it. I handed in my notice a few weeks later.

Fast forward to now. I'm in limbo, and it's terrifying. I feel like I'm just floating along, hoping something will work out. Though there are seemingly endless opportunities, I haven't found any that really fit. Nothing that gives me joy. Nothing that intrigues me. Maybe I'm not a tree, but I should really be putting down some roots.

I keep reminding myself that staying was no longer a viable option. But after being a tree for so long, flying is a little . . . ok, exhilarating. But also dizzying. Frightening. Where do people go when they allow themselves to have choices again? It's figuring out my life, but with the whole rest of my life on the line. No pressure.

Still. My choice is made, and here I am. Unemployed. A little scared. But treeless, weightless, flying.

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