(I wrote this on March 9th, but never posted it here. I was going to start another blog about my new job, but don't know if that's something I want to commit to right now. Anyway, this is what I wrote, and I think it's very apropos to this blog!)
I’m just a receptionist. At age 51. Making $10 an hour.
And I love it! I love my job, I love my boss, and I love my life.
I couldn’t say that one year ago. A year ago, I was a rarely employed, unmotivated freelance web designer. I had no confidence in myself or my abilities and talents, and I certainly had no confidence that others would be able to see, acknowledge, and appreciate them.
A year ago, I wondered how many more years my life would go on with nothing to look forward to, nothing to get up in the morning for, nothing that brought me any joy.
Today, I remember feeling that way, and it both awes and scares me. Awes me because now I rarely have those moments of such deep despondence and despair that I would rather just not continue to live. I still get overwhelmed, but I think I’m learning to face what I fear and to what through it, not perfectly, but still coming out on the other side, knowing I’ve made it through. It does scare me though, because I know that if I again become unaware or nonchalant or negligent, I can get back there faster than I can imagine.
And I don’t want that.
I want this. This new life, this new chance, this beginning of a new journey. The saying goes that a journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step. That’s why I’m okay with a receptionist position and a receptionist pay level.
Because at least I’ve taken that first step back into life. And I only need to look ahead and take the next step and the next, being careful to be aware of my footing and any obstacles, but moving forward. Always moving forward.