Ch-ch-ch-chaaaanges

Every time I sit down to write something, it ends up sounding really morose and negative. Since many people tell me that I already write like I talk, I'm concerned that I'm becoming a huge downer. I think it has a lot do with job dissatisfaction and some injuries that are plaguing my runs, but there are times where I find myself in a deep, dark, uncool funk that is so unlike me.


The gnawing rhythm of daily life is wearing me down, man.

Wake up.

Snooze for an hour.

Really wake up.

Schlep on the uniform that I had carefully laid out the night before.

Throw my bags in the car.

Drive bleary-eyed to the office.

Run around the office.

Work at my computer with my bleary eyes.

Count the hours until lunch.

Lunch.

Count the hours until the end of the day.

Drive bleary-eyed in rush hour traffic.

Collapse into my house.

Sometimes go for a run, sometimes not.

Manage to make dinner.

Somehow brush my teeth.

Recline in bed.

And so it continues.

Even with that First World schedule, I have moments of great joy on a regular basis: first kiss of the day with my husband; satisfaction of a delicious, home-cooked meal; fresh spritz of a favorite perfume; a cozy cat on my lap or a happy dog on a leash. I really and truly love these moments, but a hefty portion of my day does not include any of those moments, so it's hard for me to find them and appreciate them.

I am a natural busy body who genuinely enjoys working. You can ask my husband: If I have "free" time (i.e. not in the office or preparing to go into the office), I am always moving. I love turning our house into a home and finding ways to turn the mundane into something aesthetic and efficient. I enjoy running and exercising and logging my workouts with some introspective reflection. Organization is my favorite past time. I will color code the bajeebies out of some kitchen pantries and laundry closets, let me tell you what.

We call all of these activities "putzing" but really, I'm doing the exact opposite. I am getting shit done! When compared to the responsibility and scope of what I do at my job, whatever I'm doing for myself or at home just doesn't seem like real "work," you know? But it is. That is what I find meaningful, so why can't I openly consider it worthwhile to pursue and celebrate?

There are many unglamorous facets of every job (preparing a quarterly tax review does not exactly scream, "AWESOME!") but finding a real purpose in your work is very important. Some people get motivated by leadership opportunities. Others might jump at the chance to hone their problem-solving skills. I thought I was one of those people. I really believed that I was a trailblazing kind of person; that I was meant to lead others; that I can sacrifice a piece of myself day in and day out and then still have more to give.

Well, as it turns out, I'm not one of those people. Instead, I've learned that in order to be truly productive, I have to be happy with what I'm doing. It's crazy, I know, and not exactly enticing for future employers, but yes, my happiness will determine my success.

For years, I thought it was the other way around. I thought that my success would make me happy because I could buy things! and tell people what to do! and be at important meetings! (because that is how we measure success, right?) but instead, I have felt drained and inadequate and unhappy with the trajectory of my professional life.

I am a hard worker, but I'm a bit of a lone wolf when it comes to the professional, specifically military, workforce. I don't enjoy being a leader, but leaders are the ones who get lauded and promoted. I have shown that I work well within a team, but team players aren't ambitious enough to make it (whatever "it" is). I shine on independent projects that allow me to flex my creative side, but I usually only get to see them begin and rarely get the chance to see these projects progress.

So, maybe I should work somewhere else.

Crickets.

The thing about the military is that it's not for everyone, and as proud as I am for having served, I am ready to close this chapter. At one time, I truly believed that I was meant for this environment, but I am not cut out for the long haul. With my contract up in the very foreseeable future, I am on the job hunt for something new, something different, something much smaller and I'm truly excited to start fresh(er).

I want to believe that I stand a chance at being fulfilled on a creative, emotional level while also providing for my family because a girl's still gotta eat, amiright?

In the mean time, I can just keep writing and writing and writing until my hands fall off and by then we'll have robots that will type our ideas for us, so I'll just carry on some more. I'm also trying to find a way to define myself, not only as a potential employee and quintessential hard worker, but also as a creative person. I'm reading about and searching for new opportunities to grow, write, and organize myself into a feasible living.

It's crazy talk up in here, I know, but I am definitely serious about this quarter-life crisis of mine. Later this year, I will be in a different professional (and likely poorer) state of being. Just you wait, kids.