It Finally Happened

I've tried to write this post more times than I can remember. Right after it happened. A couple weeks after it happened. In an airport on vacation. A couple weeks after that. The words just wouldn't come. It was as if my life had shifted so monumentally, that I needed time just to wrap my own mind around it. It's hard to explain how it feels when that thing you've been waiting to happen... actually happens. But it’s pretty amazing, so bear with me while I try.

Back in April, I was supremely discouraged. After a couple of particularly tough-to-swallow rejections on the job-search front, I was left wondering, "What’s the point?" Wondering if taking the risk to leave my job last summer had been worth it. Wondering if I could muster enough energy to pick myself up. Wondering if anything would ever work out. As usual, I turned to my best friend for support. And as usual, she delivered.

(I really need to stop telling the internet how she's
always right. She's a lawyer for crying out loud.
If I'm not careful, this will come back to bite me
 the next time we disagree on something...)

Fast-forward four-and-a-half months and, as usual, she was absolutely right. It's now just a blip in the rear-view. At the end of June, it finally happened. Just as I was beginning to think I couldn't handle another day of driving 170+ miles round-trip to & from work, the phone calls started coming in. Over a two-and-a-half-week period, I had five separate job interviews. And less than a week after that, I landed one.

I’ve been working for the State of California for a little over a month. I now do communications/public affairs work for an agency based in Sacramento. (Although details are easy to Google, I’m not going to get into them here, as this is still a personal blog, not a professional one.) I’m working on a project I believe in, with people who are friendly, supportive and encouraging. My commute is down from 86 miles each way to exactly two miles. I have a huge cubicle to myself, where I can put up pictures and never have to worry about finding someone else’s crumbs in the keyboard. I get lunch breaks, go for coffee and get paid a good salary with great benefits. I’ll save my TV News-Work-Environment-Versus-State-Job-Work-Environment for another post, but you get the idea. If you don't, then allow my good friend Jack Dawson to explain.

For the first time in my adult life, I have a regular schedule during normal hours. I don’t have to get up before the sun. My nights are my own again. My weekends are actually weekends. I sleep 7+ hours every night. I don’t toss and turn anymore with the restless dreams of a woman whose mind is full of worry and doubt and disappointment. I hit the pillow and I’m out cold, enjoying the restful, dreamless sleep of a woman who just took a sleeping pill with the better part of a bottle of red wine. (Yes, I speak from experience. But no, I haven’t done that since I left TV.)

                                                                                                                                            

Also, because I have a social life again, I don’t spend nearly as much time at home having lengthy conversations with my cats. So that’s a win.

Last summer, I took a huge risk. I gambled everything for the possibility of something better. And it paid off. It wasn’t easy. In fact, it was downright terrifying at times. But it was worth it. Things aren’t perfect – there are still areas of my life that need some serious work. But for the first time in a very, very, very long time, I can say I’m happy. Really happy.

You know that feeling? When things are going your way and everything’s coming up roses and butterflies and sunshine and unicorn poo? That’s how I feel. For example, every time an upbeat song with a positive message starts playing, something happens. In that moment, the song becomes my anthem. The singer, my spirit animal. I crank up the volume, dance in the driver’s seat and sing at the top of my very large swimmer's lungs.

I don’t care who sees me. And I don’t care what they think. I don’t care that all Kelly Clarkson Girl Power ballads are mostly the same. I don’t care that Celine and Whitney and Cher are cliché. And I don’t care that so many people have a weird beef with this band. Because in this moment, this is my anthem. Because, to paraphrase my good buddy Jack Dawson, right now, I am King of the Mother-Effing World. (Sorry, Mom.)