How to Smell Like a Rose When Your Life's in the Toilet

My descent into the great white porcelain abyss began long ago. The Cliff Notes version, leaving childhood traumas and dramas aside, is that I started working for an insurance company two months out of high school. Not having a better plan for my future, the entry level job seemed like a good idea—large stable company, better than minimum wage pay, desk of my own, working in my small town’s downtown, parking in a two level garage. Everything was new and grown-up and so very…practical. My post-Depression era folks couldn’t have been prouder or felt more secure for me.


The only hiccup is that within six months I knew that I didn’t want to do that kind of work for the rest of my life. Not just in the insurance industry but in the business world in general. This shouldn’t have been a revelation. I didn’t want to take any of the high school business classes (typing, accounting, computers, etc.) that my mother encouraged, no matter how useful. My vision of my future was looser, less restrictive, and completely undefined. I didn’t know what I had a talent for and had no self-confidence to pursue any of my interests (writing, photography, art, teaching, traveling). Thus I chose the road worn and packed by the footsteps of so many others that I actually mistook it for the right path. Yeah, I took the business classes.


So post-grad (high school, that is) and master of my fate, I was at the same crossroads after only six months of employment at my fancy-smancy new job. I knew what I didn’t want but knew precious little else. And what did I do with my newly re-found self-awareness? I folded it, crease by crease, into a tiny origami prison and put it in the back of my desk drawer behind the seemingly never empty box of 5,000 count staples.


Over the years, my dreamer self was effectively bound and gagged each and every time it broke free and opened its’ mouth to speak. “Practicality” and “Duty” are hard task masters so, like a train moving ever closer to its’ destination, I made each predictable stop achieving new positions and acquiring new responsibilities as I went. I realized repeatedly that even though I did good work and was getting promoted, I was clearly on the wrong train. I quit the company I started with out of high school, went to another insurance company, went back to the first company, quit again, then went to a different insurance company. Incredibly, twenty-four soul sapping years later I was still working for the insurance industry, desperately wanting to punch the time clock on that career but not having the courage or a clue of how to do it. Almost daily a line from Langston Hughes droned oppressively on my bones like a tuneless mantra devoid of hope. Or maybe it was more like a truthful and enlightening question that is just too painful to answer.

What happens to a dream deferred?

What happens to a dream deferred?

What happens to a dream deferred?!

My hopes and fears came true on July 13^th of this year. I finally left the job I hated! Okay,I was let go. But still I was free. And incredible as it may sound in this economy, I was happy. I had the decision I refused to make decided for me. Cowardly I know, but the desired result was achieved nonetheless.

Please note, there are those who felt the circumstances surrounding my termination were unfair due to a recently changed company policy with no grandfather clause. I’ve heard the policy change is now being reviewed by the company. Some felt I should fight the decision. They thought I should call the company’s HR Department or Ethics hotline, or call some governmental agency like “the wage and works people”, whoever they are. Part of me agreed. In my mind, I started forming my arguments and plan of attack to make sure justice would prevail. I kept important e-mails and documents. I worked up a healthy dose of righteous indignation and then considered the toll it would take on me to stay battle ready. My stomach could have churned butter at just the thought of it. If I fought the decision and won, what would I get? A stressful job that I hated back? I would ultimately lose either way so I didn’t fight. I had another source of income that would cover things if I cut my expenses and lived more simply for a while. Sacrifice was the preferred choice. I just wanted to walk away and never look back.

So, no longer at a crossroads, I am on a decidedly different path and I am taking the next year or so for me. This will be a time to learn and grow and replace a lot of bad habits with something positive. A time to move toward the type of future I should have had all along. It will also be a time to focus on my kids. And this is where the “rose” part comes in. I am infinitely happier! I am relaxed. I am hopeful. And I dream again about all of the creative things I've always wanted to do. This is all good for both me and my kids. As I learn and grow, I will share my journey with you here in my blog. This blog, along with my other blog at explorevirginia.blogspot.com, is in itself one of my new adventures so, see? I’m already on my way!

Got any pearls of wisdom or experiences to share about how you extracted yourself from life’s great toilet bowl? Leave a comment because I’d love to hear from you.

Dreams

by Langston Hughes

Hold fast to dreams For if dreams die Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams For when dreams go Life is a barren field Frozen with snow.