Photnograf

The office

I looked at this picture that I took just yesterday, and I had one of those moments when you think, “Is this really the life I’m living?” I’m working in a screened in cabana facing the pacific in a far off land. I’m writing. I’m smiling. I’m watching the men pass by with baskets on their backs and machetes in their hands. I’m laughing at the pack of pomeranians while they bark and scurry around the tin roof covering the building next to me. I’m drinking tea and listening to music all day. It’s truly as good as it sounds. And I’m surviving in spite of the great time I’m having, because I love what I do for a living. I love every minute of it.

I can’t help but wonder… How did all of this happen? The more I looked at this picture, the more my mind drifted into the past, into a place I’ve long let go of, a place that has little meaning, but one that still exists on some level.

A year ago today, I hated my job, which I was very good at. I had become someone in a company. I didn’t have to fulfill the duties of an administrative assistant any longer. Instead, I bullied people like the best of them. I slathered on the artificial charm and wore it like lipstick. I argued, schemed and manipulated my way almost all the way to the top. I was violently passionate about being better than the people ahead of me. I guess you could have called me a success.

I was consistantly fighting with my boyfriend, who I truly loved beyond words. He was like no one I’d ever met. But there was a friction that wouldn’t smooth out. Something just didn’t fit. But a year ago today, we were still that couple who made people sick because we cared about each other so much. I suppose you could have called me a lucky girl.

I was depressed and angry, and since it was winter, I got away with calling it seasonal depression.

I was closed off to new people. I was constantly trying to push away those who were close to me. You could have called me independent.
Those were all the things I called myself. I was a salesperson. I was in a relationship. I liked my alone time and I was sad in the winter. I thought the rare moments of sought out joy were sufficient to keep me going. I eventually broke down completely despite all of those nice labels.

And today, a year later, what has changed? In short, everything. I wish I knew what the catalyst to this transformation was. But I have no idea. A process was set in motion about eight months ago that started ridding my life of all of the crud that had built up internally and externally.

What was left? Nothing. I had absolutely nothing. I didn’t know who I was or what I was supposed to do with my life.

The strangest thing happened. Everytime I found myself not knowing what to do with any aspect of my life, something would magically appear and fill the void or at least lead me to find a way to fill it. It wasn’t always instant, but it would always happen. It happened in the form of books, emails, people, places and resources. And the thing that fell in was always more fulfilling than the thing that was there before.

Now, I love my job. I hope that I’m improving every day, but I’m not competing with anyone, not even with myself. I do my best and constantly remind myself how amazing it is to do what I do. I dreamed of doing this when I was a little girl. And I’m still just as excited for it every single day. I spend my days turning these letters into words, turning the words into sentences, turning the sentences into stories and showing them to my mom.

I’m alone and for the first time ever, I feel completely whole in that. I’m not lonely and I’m not jaded. I’m just complete. I’m sure this is one of those things that will fill itself when the time is right. I’m not worried about it.

Depression? Please. Closed off to people? Not a chance.

So what am I now in the year after? I don’t know.

And I think that’s what’s helped me here. If you know who you are, what you want, where you want to be, if you have all of those labels, then there’s really no room for possibilities. Your door is already closed. I’m going to keep the label maker in a box in the basement and the front door open for awhile and see what floods in.