“…Stop waiting around for people to fix your shit and take actions to positively contribute to the quality of your life…“
Those sound like words from my own mouth, profanity and all.
The thing with not believing in fate, destiny, or things happening for a reason is that you’re instantly in charge of every aspect of your life. While some people have an extreme aversion to the notion of there not being a cosmic hand in all things, but I find the opposite liberating.
When the outcomes are up to me, and I’m the only one to blame, things suddenly get done.
And when this realization hits, and you understand that you make the things you want come to fruition, there’s this shift in the way you see things.
Robert Kiyosaki talks about these differences, namely from a financial standpoint. His most repeated example is that one person will say, “I can’t afford that,” and another will say, “How can I afford that?”
I apply this to other areas in my life besides just finances.
About a year ago, when I started loathing my job, I switched my mindset. Instead of working for the benefit of White Men in Ties, Inc., I started doing my work solely to make the lives of HeBoss and SheBoss easier. I respect them both ridiculously, so this held me over for a bit.
After my three weeks in Texas at the end of 2007, work was the last place I wanted to go. The guy I was seeing witnessed me being a colossal wienie, unaware of the unique brand of crazy that lies beneath my calm and cool exterior. I can meet and impress 10 new people in a single night, successfully remember all of their names upon our next meeting, and include details from previous conversations to ask appropriate follow-up questions. But me having to go back to work in a field I’ve rocked for the past decade will crumble me into an anxiety-riddled heap, asking for a paper bag to breathe into. What sets me off baffles even me, but that’s just how it is.
I sat back and thought about solutions to this problem. Getting another job sounds like the obvious answer. However, between the people, the pay, the number of days off, the freedom given, and the actual issue at hand (having a job, not just having *this* job), that’s a Band-aid fix, merely postponing the inevitable.
Early in January I got serious about my real estate business. Each and every day I take action to change this part of my life. I now see my job as a tool to get where I want. I stick with it, perform my tasks, collect a few grand here and there, and use the spare time I’m given to best use that money to make it so I don’t have to keep showing up.
How’s that for perspective? Taking action? Changing one’s circumstances? Improving one’s life?
Pretty neat, huh?
Five years ago I found my life absolutely stagnant. My chosen career wasn’t something I was interested in continuing with — especially with the pay rates dropping in Austin’s tech industry. I was dating a wonderful man whose future I knew wouldn’t align with mine. My friends were all in a position of transition, just waiting for the guts to make their leaps elsewhere.
When presented with the opportunity for my own leap, I took it. With no job, friends, or plans, I packed it all up, made my move, and trusted in my innate ability to make things happen.
A month into my introduction to the arctic gales that Chicago is so known for, I got my first taste of seasonal depression. Each year thereafter, I’ve been stricken. I get my introductory glumness in early December, escape to Texas’ warmth for relief, and then ready myself for the big hit.
March. Fucking March.
The best way I can describe it is that I’d jump off my balcony… except it’s too much effort to pry myself from my couch to fling myself over the railing.
This lethargy is absolutely killing me. I’ll go a week without sleeping, only to spend the next week sleeping 12 hours a day. Taking sleeping pills only makes me wake up with a massive hangover, and being not fully rested and suffering from a pounding head doesn’t make for a good day.
I’m generally successful at achieving my New Year’s resolution of leaving the house once per day. I hit the gym on most days. I keep all social obligations. But even having the foresight to make these a priority isn’t helping.
It’s coming down to needing to make a choice and take action in creating my happiness. I’ve previously toyed with the idea of moving to LA. But with the ultimate goal of stopping the anxiety that comes from showing up each day at a j-o-b, an expensive place like LA will have to wait until I further reach my career goals.
I love my house. I love my friends. I love my big, gay chorus. I love walking everywhere. I love that I know the city in and out. I love being able to afford to live across the street from work. I love the lakefront running path. I love playing beach volleyball with every other young and single good-looking person in the city once it hits 60 degrees.
But when I am out-right fucking miserably frigid for months on end, there’s only so much a woman can take.
Chicago, I love you. I really, really do. But we’re getting dangerously close to a break-up. I’d say that it’s not you but me, but I’d be lying. It’s all you, and I can’t stand for it any longer.
I suspect that an offer will be submitted and accepted on a lovely 2-bedroom, 1.5-bath, 2-story town home with two balconies that overlook a pond by the end of the week.
I look forward to swimming in my pool and going around the corner to the running and biking trails — and using both items for much of the year. Add to it the 30-minute drive to the ocean, a shared gym with my brother, having my parents 15 minutes away, hosting my sister and her kids on any given weekend, and being close to the apartments I will own by time I make my way there, and it’s a lot to look forward to.
As soon as my birthday party’s streamers are swept up, I’m outta here.
So long, Chicago.