So this week at work, I had a fight with my boss. Never a good idea, especially when one is on trial period.  Feeling like I needed to have a Plan B and soon, and more than anything, needed to evaluate my life and if this was a sign I was going in the wrong direction, I racked my brain for other things I could do, how I could survive and thrive if this didn’t work out, whether or not this was what I actually wanted.

I came to the conclusion that the adversity I was facing- and in some ways, created myself but we’ll get to that- would likely be found anywhere. In general I feel good about my work, and just the day before I felt energized despite putting in an abnormally long 11 hour day. People issues will be everywhere, and there is no escaping them. ANd while nothing is perfect, on the whole where I am is good, and there is something to be said for seeing things through. Even when they don’t come easy nor are they exactly perfect in everywhere.

Because no, my job does not bring a sense of meaning or joyful happiness directly to my life. And I had been beginning to think maybe it could, that work could solve many of my problems and get my mind off other things, and that by finding success and purposeful, goal-oriented activity to get there would give me whatever I lack- be it an aura of unavailabilty to attract men, money to pay someone else to do my dishes and avoid having to cook, and of course,self worth and validation through hard work and material “success.”  I’m glad my bubble was burst.

As my friend who I vented to and asked for advice explained to me, happiness is within, and leaving my job for the unknown wouldn’t magically bring me to a better place.

I know in my heart I am not necessarily cut out for the world I”m living in now, but I think it’s a good step.

This job has showed me that my main attribute and passion is communication, which is not a huge surprise. It has also showed me how much I don’t really value it, and think it is a second rate super power to have and just a stupid girly job that will never give me any real power and is for stupid people.

Definitely a very potent form of self hatred and misogyny.

And the truth is that I need a real project in my life besides my work, trying to find a man, and travel.  I need to write about my travels.

Life is doing everything it can to prompt me to write, and I am just afraid to speak, and realize ten years later or just a few months what an idiot I was.

I am afraid to speak and be discovered by my job and not respected by my colleagues or asked to leave.

I am afraid to speak my truth and realize I am not the person I thought I should be, and that by doing so, I will have to acknowledge some of the stone idols I pretended to worship were false.

I am afraid to be an indiviual, because I already feel like a minority of one. It’s lonely, and I’m beginning to realize I can’t do life on my own.

ANd I also realize that I must answer the call, I must BE a fucking writer, and not let stupid Cheryl Strayed’s pretentious self-consciousness as a writer or my English major friend’s self proclamed status as poets and playwrights get in my way. It gets under my skin because I don’t dare to come out of my “achiever” closet, and because I am afraid of being judged as not good enough.

Much safer to write for an anonymous blog that I don’t even proofread than to actually spend some time on stuff, develop my own unique style, and getcalled out on it as not enough.

And in terms of my drama with my boss, I realized I am afraid to be vulnerable enoughto learn from her. Afraid to admit I can’t do it on my own. Afraid that whatever I am doing in France wouldn’t be good enough for AMerica and that’s why I am here, because I am an All-American reject that can’t fit into her birth society or host country.

Iam afraid all those stereotypes of the French are right, I am afraid that following my joy is wrong.

Mostly, I am afraid of being me.

ANd no wonder Ifeel inauthentic, no wonder I am struggling at my paying the bills job, no wonder no matter how much money I earn it doens’t feel like enough thugh before when I earned a pittance I didn’t feel like I was suffering- although the money issue really isn’t so bad. NO wonder all I do is compare myself to my other people and in doing so lose my soul.

I know who I am and what I want.

Fear is no excuse for a life not fully lived.

Waiting for things to ripen is smart, but being afraid to pick the fruit off the tree is damn dumb.

Refusing to acknowledge my fruitfullness is dangerous, and makes me feel barren.

Waste is one of the few true sins.

May God continue to lead me out of temptation, and may I have the courage to accept my salvation.

World without end, Amen.

Namaste friends

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