Earlier this week, I was asked a very basic question. It took me by surprise though – and left me really thinking.
“Are you happy with your job? Is it what you want to do for the rest of your life?”
For the first part – yes.
Yes: I am happy with my job. I love what I do. I like my co-workers. I enjoy my day-to-day routine. I am happy that “this” is how I am able to pay the bills and keep my family afloat.
But is this what I want to do for the rest of my life?
I think she saw that struggle in my eyes, because then she asked: “If you could do anything you wanted, what would you do?”
I’d write, I told her. Or maybe I’d teach. Heck, if money and time were no issues, maybe I’d go back to school to become a therapist. Maybe I’d become an advocate for DV victims. I shrugged. I guess, if I could do anything I wanted, this isn’t what I’d be doing.
And that conversation has been replaying in my mind for two days.
I like my job, maybe even love it. But it is not my passion. It doesn’t motivate me to really be “me.” It’s not what I dreamed I’d be doing when I was twelve years old. It’s a respectable job and it pays the bills. It is more enjoyable than many of the jobs I’ve held over the years. But it isn’t my “dream job.”
I shared some of my writing with her then. As I read it to her, I felt as though something in me was coming to life. And I remembered how I feel when I am focused on my writing. Alive. Free. Passionate. Focused. Calm.
She said it was beautiful and that I *had a way with words* and I felt as though, for some reason, I’d just been given a very high compliment. She asked if I had considered doing MORE with it. I confessed – I want to. But time is a constraint and I can’t seem to figure out how to manage it to allow for real writing time anymore.
But now the seed has been planted. And suddenly I wonder what is stopping me – aside from time, of course. I wonder what would happen if I took the ideas spinning ’round in my mind and actually tethered them to paper consistently and finally FINISHED something. Would anyone else think my words are interesting? Worth taking a chance on? Would anyone read what I have to “say” through the pen (or keyboard)?
Could I, through my writing, do more than just write? Could I become an advocate? Could I inspire? Lend courage? Would the words I want to share be the words that someone needs to hear? Could I leave a legacy behind for my children? Could I break silence?
Or is this all just the wishful thinking of a woman whose dream was always to see her name on the bookshelf but knew she’d never get there? Is all this blogging and writing a waste of my time, or is it where I should be focusing my spare time?
I guess it’s time to start really contemplating – what do I want to be doing in 10 years? What legacy do I want to leave my kiddos? Where do I want to be? Is it time to stop playing and really pick up the pen?
Until Next Time …