Hers: Hats (The Beginning III)
Why now? A valid response to my crazy-seeming new direction. I silently reflect on life’s big components and where I am.
Work. I hate my job. It’s not so much an active “hate” as a passive boredom, to be more specific. Certainly not the worst job I’ve had, but I’ve learned quite a bit here and I’m ready to move on. I’ve been actively interviewing, and am being recruited by several attractive startups. Lots of great options — my departure from this company is imminent, and I’m in a strong bargaining position as well as an easy place to flex from. But I lack inspiration. I don’t know where to go next in my career.
Home. I feel trapped in what some might call a toxic living situation. Like my job, it’s not the worst situation I’ve been in, but it’s not great, either. I co-own a unique and beautiful property, which I am emotionally attached to and have poured years of my heart and physical labor into. However, I’m being pressured on a daily basis to allow into my home situations and people that make me uncomfortable. It’s emotionally draining, invalidating, and stressful. Home doesn’t feel like a refuge at the end of the day. Home doesn’t feel like, well, home. But… I have this place I love, this mortgage, and all this stuff.
Friends and family. With 9 years and lots of heavy lifting, I moved from “lonely weirdo in LA with no friends and no family here” to “a central figure in a group of weirdos who call each other family.” I see my blood family in Chicago 2–3 times per year, and have another close group of friends in St. Louis, whom I see even less often. I have a relatively new relationship that’s making my dreams come true on that front, but new(ish) nonetheless. And I have the captain of the home: my dog.
Finances. I have enough student loan debt that I could buy a house in most cities with the balance owed. In some cities, I could buy two. My credit’s good, and I just leased a new electric car. I have a bit saved up, but the thought of spending it makes me anxious. It’s for emergencies, a holdout of my self-employment and near-destitute periods.
It feels crazy. It feels impossible.
It feels exhilarating.
I think back to a personal development course, learning to “throw my hat over the wall”. The saying’s origin seems to be from kids who would literally throw their own hats over a wall that seemed impossible to scale, then figure out how to move forward because they had no choice. That’s me. I’m committed to something that seems impossible. I’ve said yes to this, yet I have no idea how to make it work.
But I will figure it out.
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