Conflicted: On Following Dreams, Please Help

Frell it all.

I’m standing on a precipice and I can see the bottom clearly. I really want to jump but I have responsibilities up here.

For as long as I can remember I’ve wanted two things: to work alone and at home. Now alone doesn’t mean just alone, but being my own boss is extremely seductive. Face it, I have all the people skills of a badger. It’s not just a clever tag line, it’s everything I am. I don’t suffer anyone, fools or geniuses alike. I’m a play or get out of the way gal. Not that I don’t play nice but…okay I don’t play nice. Get out of my sandbox; you’re getting it dirty.

I’ve been sick. Bad sick. Stay at home with great pain sick. And it’s only bound to get worse. I’m not sure what I need to do about it except rest, gentle exercise and diet. None of that actually gets rid of the pain but it makes it manageable.

So I’ve been sick and busy with NaNo, and work and home. My free time has been beset by old video game-itis. But the thing is, I found a light at the end of the tunnel. You see, I’ve become a content writer.

So what? The thing is…is that it pays regularly. And while I was sick, I could do something I never thought possible. Something I thought I had to give up with my first husband. Work at home with a steady paycheck. I not only made up the holes in my regular job’s pay…but also make extra for Christmas gifts. And that’s after taxes. In less than six hours a day.

Holy hell.

This is where I’m sitting: I want to quit my day job. I know it’s not news.

Working from home.
Working from home (yes it’s worth repeating).
Higher pay than I get now with regular job.
Health insurance provided after three months. (I’m on month 2).
Working whatever hours I feel like.
I can pay off my debt at the same rate as before.

Paying my own taxes. (I already do this but have made so little in the past that I can get away with once a year. That won’t be the case next year).
This won’t be extra money anymore.
Becoming a hermit cat/dog lady (unlikely, but let’s imagine I have three boobs and some kind of green, pulsating tumor to go with this).
I have to finish my obligations at work and train some poor fool to take over.
I’m in debt up past my eyeballs.

That’s it. What do I do? When can I do? Holy fuck, do you know how much I want to do this?

Someone push me over the edge.

Ivy Walker: When we are married, will you dance with me? I find dancing very agreeable. Why can you not say what is in your head?
Lucius Hunt: Why can you not stop saying what is in yours? Why must you lead, when I want to lead? If I want to dance I will ask you to dance. If I want to speak I will open my mouth and speak. Everyone is forever plaguing me to speak further. Why? What good is it to tell you you are in my every thought from the time I wake? What good can come from my saying that I sometimes cannot think clearly or do my work properly? What gain can rise of my telling you the only time I feel fear as others do is when I think of you in harm? That is why I am on this porch, Ivy Walker. I fear for your safety before all others. And yes, I will dance with you on our wedding night.
The Village







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