Don’t Piss on my Parade..
I have an aunt. We’ll call her “Diane.” Diane met my boyfriend (now my ex) at Christmas dinner eight years ago. My ex and I have been broken up for four years (you do the math). I spoke to Diane last night and she went in (as she always does) “You could’ve been married to what’s his name.” “You could’ve had a little baby girl by now.” As I always do, I explained to my aunt that my ex was NOT the one for me, and after all this time, I shouldn’t have to keep on explaining. It doesn’t matter how much sense it made to marry him, I knew I couldn’t and I just can’t explain why. I just felt it.
Months ago, Seattle Washington wrote a post called “Corporate Mercenary.” Something about the post spoke to me on a level I wasn’t prepared for. I printed it out, and if the post isn’t on my desk, it’s in my planner and I read it often. It summed up a lot of things that I’ve been thinking for a good portion of my life. I even sent him a message telling him “thank you.”
My situation is a unique one. It doesn’t allow me to hold a “normal” job or access a lot of the things that people take for granted. In this day and age, when even those most qualified cannot find work, it’s considerably hard for someone like me. Even in the midst of all these hiccups, things still pop up. Gigs that allow me to line my pockets with some change. Because I don’t know when they’ll pop up again, I’m extremely frugal. (Extremely!)
Two weeks ago, I got called in for a job. An actual job that will allow me the come-up I’ve been waiting on for years. I finally felt like I might be getting on even level with those around me. I’ve always been behind, hoping to catch up to my peers. As I interviewed, the owner of the company (it’s a marketing firm) asked me what I wanted to do with my life. I didn’t lie, I told him that I wanted to write. I have visions of writing books and going on book tours. I love writing because it’s an outlet. It’s whatever I need it to be at the moment I need it. Mad, Sad, or Glad.
I was sitting home over the weekend and I realized that while I valued the job and the potential money that could be made, I can’t do it. It’s not something that makes sense, it’s just something I know. And just like I knew I wasn’t supposed to marry my ex, I know I can’t work for someone else. I know somewhere deep within me that if I allow myself to keep this job, once again I will be pushing my dream aside. I’m tired of making other people wealthy. At what point do I start to live for me? I know that if I keep this job that I’ll run the risk of staying in Florida. I suffer from extreme loyalty and I know that if push came to shove, I would feel indebted to them because they took a chance on me when they could’ve hired someone else. I’m afraid that one day I’ll wake up and my dreams have been tucked away in the recesses of my mind. I’m scared that if I let too much time pass, I won’t even remember what my dreams were.
Faith doesn’t make sense. That’s why it’s called “faith.” I’m not gonna quote scripture to you or anything, but I will say that I’m taking a leap. I’m holding my breath and plugging my nose and leaping from the cliff. It’s scary and exhilarating at the same time. But there comes the moment when you realize that you’re not sure whether or not your parachute is gonna open in time before the “splat.” It’s not logical but all I ask from those around me is that they understand what I’m doing and acknowledge my choice. Acknowledge my option to do what they never dared to do. I’m beginning to see the way that God has orchestrated my life to bring me to precisely this moment. He’s been setting up the chess board for a very long time. My friend Karine once told me, “we’re in a crazy position, we can do what we want when we want. How many writers say that they would write all day but because of responsibilities, they need to take a job and don’t have the time? You have nothing but time.”
Like Quasimodo, her words rang the loud bell in my spirit.
And so I begin.
I don’t know where the path leads, all I know is that sometimes I’ll walk it alone. I can’t lie, most of the time I prefer it. I’ve had to explain my thoughts to my mother, my aunt, and several other people. Is there anything better than getting paid for something that you love to do? How many people out there can actually claim that? Did our responsibilities put our dreams in a choke hold and squeeze tighter? Do you do what you’re passionate about or just what you’re good at? If you had the freedom, what would you do?
Here’s hoping your life is full….