The waiting is the hardest part

I sit at my desk my nerves on edge. Every footfall around me seems ominous. My neck is tight as are my shoulders. It could be now. It could be awhile. It could be today. Or a week from now.

I gave notice at work yesterday and spent the day on tenterhooks waiting for a response. I wilted under the pressure feeling distinctly disappointed when I had to leave for the day without answers. Today started with the promise of freedom but every passing hour feels like deadweight.

If leaving my job can be cause for celebration, a sense of relief coursing through my veins, should I even consider doing this kind of work in the years to come? I realize with each passing job how distant my dream of finding a vocation is.

Someday I will find it. This mystery thing that will make me happy to be alive. Happy to be a contributing member of society. Till then, I will jump ships, rock my sailing boat and be cause for supreme disappointment all around.

Is that his footfall I hear?


Author. Parent.

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