I was sitting on the porch, reading Wild, when my room mate returned home. She walks up the steps, stops, and says hello. I reply, asking how her day has been. Good, she says, and that she needs to take a shower and go to class soon. She remarks on how nice it is outside, and I agree, it has been a particularly wonderful November day.
We get to talking more. I mentioned I was training my new assistant today, the assistants first day in fact, and that while outside smoking a cigarette, the fact that I had gone to culinary school came up – mainly considering the fact that most culinary school students are pompous or completely unprepared, or God forbid, both. I’m one of the exceptions to this rule. My boss, lets call him Socks, is standing there smoking one of his three minute puff hand rolls when he chimes in, letting everyone in the immediate area know that they’re going to “have to put that degree to good use one of these days”.
My room mate lit up with the idea of good things starting in motion for me.
I on the other hand, was not excited. What would that mean for the PCT hike I’ve been so dedicated about doing? I can’t keep spending my life telling people I’m going to do amazing things and then just bail on them. I can’t keep doing things for other people. I can’t keep changing my life to better fit the needs of others. I can’t keep tumbling down this spiral, God damn it. I need to do this for me, on my own terms, on my own time. I need to live my own fucking life and do something crazy. I need to do this to feel whole again, like I can do anything. Survive anything. I need to do this to be me again.
But what about your job? Your career? So much could happen in the year and a half before you plan to do this.
Its only a job.
I won’t let anything stop me.
Feels good to have finally figured it out.