I’ve never not had a job. Since I was 14 and joined the workforce, I have always had a job (if not two). I’ve never left a job without having another one lined up, I’ve never left a job without working a two week notice, I’ve never been unemployed.
And it’s been hard. To allow myself this time - to process, to plan. I’m lucky that I’ve had family to offer their homes and their hearts to me, that are far more understanding of my current situation than I’m willing to be to myself (after all, aren’t we always our harshest critics?).
I had a job. I chased it down before I even moved back. Calling, emailing, interviewing. I was going to be a big girl, with a big girl job. Turns out, I was the big girl, with the big girl tears. I cried in the conference room on my first day. Twice. In the same way I knew it was time for me to return to Wisconsin, I knew that job wasn’t for me. In my bones.
I didn’t move thousands of miles from a place of unhappiness to end up in another unhappy situation.
So I quit. After my first day. And I’ve been taking the time since to figure out what I want to do and where I want to be. I’m nearly there.
This weekend got me that much closer. I returned to my hometown for the baptism of my twin nieces, a perk of being within driving distance of them and their mother, my older sister. I spent a few extra days at home - lunching with my baby sister, working out with my trainer, finishing a book I’d been working on for months. All of these things bringing me a sense of joy and fulfillment that is unlike anything I experienced in the South. It’s what I moved back here for - contentment, happiness, purpose. A job will come, one always does, until then, I will continue to work - on myself.