Failure

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mLg46AVDD_Q


Failure and I are only acquaintances. I'm aware of his attributes, I recognize him when he is far the down the street....when I can just barely see him on the horizon. I find my most speedy exit from the place I stood to avoid bumping into him...or every truly getting to know him. I am a "dabbler", never plunging in nor trying because of fear of failure. I haven't always been this way. I remember the girl who walked 5 miles to go to bellydancing class then practiced in the dark without looking at the clock. Who stayed up late into morning working on a writing project. In my jadedness, I have stopped trying. Thank you Cass Phillips for helping me to realize that my fear of failure is blocking me from digging into passions.

Carpe Diem

At most turns in my life I've kept my decision process to myself. Changing plans has always been a *hush* *hush* gig, the sort I prefer to sweep under the carpet. Many times I make a big ol' action plan, guns blazing, grin set...I've prepared myself for the ride. When the car breaks down, the seatbelt won't work, or the car engine won't turn over...I unexpectantly abandon my trip itinerary. Why should I be ashamed of this?

The last month has been well, interesting. The first two weeks on the job at my new job I was getting a handle on what my responsibilities were. Last week I was done with training and flying solo. By Thursday I called my mom to tell her that I wasn't a good fit for the job. I want to be a good fit. I want my plan to work. But then again I don't....I feel that something is missing from my work life that has always been missing: creativity. My new job allows me to make my own schedule and come and go from the office as I please but there isn't enough work to do to fill a 40 hr work week. Sometimes days end up ridiculously long and other times hard to fill. I work alone and as someone who thrives on the dynamic that human interaction creates...I kind of hate it. I have to admit that last weekend I spent most of the weekend shuffling around in a state of depression. I told my friend that the path to acceptance (of my new job) would involve depression. Oh the stages of grief. This week things landslided a bit more for me...after work I felt called to the bed to sleep. Eating my emotions and old vice, reared its ugly head.

At this crossroads, I can't help but remember that I've felt this way a lot. Even to the point of me beginning to believe I must have a cyclic "get really excited" and then "burn out fast" way about me. Yet when I ask myself what I really want, I know this isn't it. I'm at the period of my life which is about adventure, self exploration, and finding what fits me. I've worked in the social services field on and off for years and the field is truly draining. I've felt that I need to work in the field because I have the gift of listening, being patient, and empathy. Yet the side of effects of working in the field just aren't healthy and I feel unsatisfied at a core level. I ask myself...shouldn't I be happy? Don't you want to help people? But in all reality, I think I enjoy people but don't belong counseling them.

I want to take a risk. I want to explore what I'm passionate about. I believe that if I follow my interests I can find a field of work that I feel inspired by. That ignites me. I think I can find satisfaction in work. This means that I must plunge into a place I've never gone before...creative work...and follow the idea till I know if it is what I want or not. I refuse to settle. I refuse to accept. I have one life and with a quarter century of it gone, I refuse to be to scared to do anything. Welp here I go. . .