Cha-Cha-Cha-Changes

Hi, y'all.

So, I'm lying here in bed, trying to sleep, and my mind is flooded with a million different thoughts. I've not really made it public knowledge, but I've had enough people ask, so here's the deal:

I resigned from my job at MedStar Health Corporate; I played out my two weeks (and one day, if you really want to get down to the semantics) and my last day with the company was July 3. My resignation had nothing to do with the company as a whole. I was proud to work with my team and on the projects we accomplished. I loved my coworkers, and I believe that they will go on to do great things and have the capacity to change the game in healthcare. 

However, my position was not meeting my needs and not fulfilling my desire for a new challenge. I felt stuck, I'm 32 and I needed to make a move. The prior statement has nothing to do with the respect that I have for my coworkers who are in the same position; if anything, they are more tolerant in a corporate environment than I. Or, maybe they have the unique ability to separate work life from home life, which I do not, and is sometimes my greatest downfall.

As a person who tries to plan their life, taking into consideration (read: obsessing about all details, hypothetical outcomes, etc...), not having a job lined up immediately was a big risk. And while this factor continues to be a big risk, I made moves in order to secure myself financially for a couple of months (my own money; I don't rely on others unless I'm deadpan broke and on the street), apply for jobs that I really wanted and take a short sabbatical, if you will. I'd rather do it now than in the middle of a polar vortex.

This is not something everyone can do, and, if my circumstances had been different, maybe I had kids or a significant other to consider, I would have stuck it out longer. But, with hours of my life tied up in traffic, long work hours and a handful of other mitigating factors of which I will not delve into in a public forum, it was either going to be me having a serious mental breakdown, or saving myself. I chose to save myself.

This is some real shit I'm about to throw out at you now, some of it you may know, friend or reader, some you may not. It's not for pity or any type of attention, it's just the fucking truth, and it's shit that people don't talk about as much as they should:

For some reason, in our society, telling people that you've struggled more than half your life trying to understand and manage depression, horrible anxiety, body issues, self-esteem issues, bulimia, is, to me, so much harder than telling someone that you have a physical issue that they can see, that can be measured. You can take a bunch of pills, you can talk to a therapist and these things are great. But you're the one who is in your head every day and you're the only one who can fix you. That's a great lesson that I've learned over the years, which is why I'm selectively vocal about the subject, and do my best not to burden others with a cycle that I've been though countless times. I know the drill. I know how to fix it. It's just being cognizant of it and taking the appropriate steps. Over and over and over again. Some times it's easier than others. Sometimes you feel like you can't take another step without falling over. That shit is cray, ain't it, Jay?

With that in mind, it's hard to see, over time, when you begin to lose yourself and fall back into the cycle, the things you loved to do, the people you love being around. Your friends, families. It's not until you take a step away do you realize how you've spiraled into a copacetic individual whose lust for life has faded. You (I) are simply existing and not contributing to your own well-being, your social circle or society. And really, that fucking sucks. Why else are we here? What's the point if you can't be remotely happy a fair amount of the time?

Therefore, I decided to eliminate that particular stress factor from my life. You may or may not agree with my decision, and that's totally your opinion. But, for me, in retrospect, it was one of the best decisions I've made in my life.

There's some bullshit saying about how life is about the journey, not the destination. I don't know where I'll end up, but I'll figure it the fuck out. I have a plan, I have some temporary resources at my disposal and I'll Tim Gunn the shit out of it and make it work. Failure is not an option in my life; it never has been. Ups and downs, yes. Complete failure, no. I have too much at stake, mentally, personally and professionally to be in a position where I became a shell of a person, and that's not who I want to be.

In the end, I don't feel the need to justify my decisions or actions to anyone. I'm not hurting anyone; in fact, I'm helping the number one person who needed help and that's me. Generally (unless you either have seriously unforeseen circumstances or are a serious douchebag), you have people around who love and care for you, who only want the best and they just want to see you happy. Those are the important people to keep and hang onto. Thick or thin. Ride or die. And they are amazing individuals to be witness and try to help this one girl through her shit, even when she's a stubborn B who hates accepting the aforementioned help (sorry, I'm working on it).

Means to everyone's individual end choices are a funny thing, but that's what makes us who we are, and makes us unique.

Drone away and get consumed by the fire. Light a fire within yourself and own that shit.

I don't know if this writing was meant to be explanatory or maybe just cathartic to me, but if you're still reading, thanks. 

If not, what do you want for nothing?

A Rubber Biscuit?

Take a chance. The worst you can do is be up at 1AM ranting and ending your post with a Blues Brothers song. There are more terrible things in life.

Thanks for Reading, 
A