The faith to move mountains

As I write these words I am a little afraid, but mostly just at peace and elated, like I've been released from being stuck to the end of the suction hose of a giant energy vacuum. I feel light. Yesterday I made the decision to quit my job. It's been a long time coming. For almost two years it has made me miserable, first in little ways, then in big ways.

When I started this job, I knew it wasn't for me, but sometimes you do things because you think you have to, not because you want to. My dream job had fallen through and I was broken hearted and scrambling, panicked about how to pay rent. I got a gig door knocking for health care, which was fine for a while until autumn set in and the rains began. And there I was getting lost and soaked for hours every night in the back woods of Washington with a clipboard and some leaflets, wishing I would just get struck by lightening. I was so desperate for indoor employment and especially something that came with good benefits and a great title, that I overlooked all the warning bells. I cried after my in person interview, not because I thought I hadn't done well, but because I knew that they would hire me.

I knew that this was an under supported program. I knew that my resources would be limited, but I pretended that my boss really was telling the truth. When I was promptly disabused of this notion, I believed in my ability to overcome systemic failures through hard work and creativity. I had a dynamic first year. I did more in one year than had been done in the previous five years, and at the end of it all there were still so many frustrations, so many things I couldn't change, and the general feedback was "wow, you did a lot....do less". So this year I have done just that. I don't take my work home. I barely take it seriously. I have expended maybe a tenth of the energy I did last year and it hasn't seem to make any difference at all, other than in me. I am (was) miserable. I felt like every second I spent at this job...other than checking email...was me wasting precious moments of my life, and that is something you don't get back.

I'm done. I don't want to spend my life creating a kick ass resume. I want to spend my life creating an honorable existence where I am happy, where I am doing something worth doing and not just something that looks good on paper. Though I had already decided to quit, I went to a meeting with the Employment Ministry at the Center for Spiritual Living. It wasn't at all what I expected, but it was just what I needed. I sat there in a room with 30 other people in various stages of employment. There were some who had been or were going to be laid off, others who were stuck in dead end jobs, and others who just didn't know what they wanted. So we prayed together, then we had a discussion about all the ideas we cling to and how they prevent us from doing what we really want to do. I actually didn't say anything the whole time I was there, but I didn't need to. The people who shared their experiences were articulating how I felt.

"God is the source of your income," said the person leading the workshop. "God, not your job." Ever the smart ass, my first thought was "Well does God provide medical and dental?" But then as the idea sunk in, it kind of blew my mind. If God is the source of my income and not this crappy job, then if I let go of this crappy job and have faith in my talents and in God's power something more fulfilling will come to me. Right? Wow that's scary...letting go, giving up control, but isn't that what faith is...believing in what you can't prove, what you can't see, what you just know in your heart. Well when I woke up yesterday I just knew in my heart that I could do better.

Since I can remember I have wanted to be a writer, but I am a practical person. Someone sometime told me that writers don't make any money and that you can't realistically support yourself that way, and this did not appeal to me at all. So though I still pursued a BA in English and Creative Writing, I looked for employment that would allow me to do my writing part time. I became a teacher. I traveled the world. And I don't regret a moment of it, because I loved it and I have certainly stored up a life time of topics to write about, but I have come to the realization that I am letting my fears dictate my life and that is no way to live.

I want to write, but I don't want to have to struggle for money. I've been there. That 6 months I spent in Chile working six 12-14 hour days a week under the table for less than minimum wage, I experienced an exhaustion only comparable to that of grad school. I was beyond burnt out, but worse, I was terrified that I would end up homeless. It's one thing to be poor in the States, but entirely another when you have been robbed of everything you have and you don't have any legal rights or legal access to employment and everyone you know and love is far away. It was the first time I had ever really experienced hunger....I mean real hunger, where you have to choose between spending your last centavos on transportation home or on food and when you get home no one has gone shopping, so there is nothing but rice and it takes so long to make and you have to get up in 5 hours and do it all again. I know I am fortunate. I eventually made enough to get home and to pay my host family back for taking me in when I had nothing to give them.

I digress. What I really want to say is that I'm grateful for every opportunity I've had. I'm even grateful for this crappy job, which has given me a reliable income, great insurance, the chance to meet some amazing people, free tickets to see the Dalai Lama, and a flexible schedule. I am also grateful to God and the Universe for giving me the strength and courage to walk away from it.

I want to write full time and teach part time. I want to paint and show my art. I want to make books and get published. I want to create beautiful things. I also want to take a break from working. So that is what I am going to do. June 14 will be my last day, then I will spend the last two weeks of June on a cheap vacation, possibly in Portland, possibly in Canada. I will take some much needed time to relax and reflect. In July I might travel or I might just stay in Seattle and write.

The fabulous part about this decision is that as soon as I made it everything just kind of fell into place. I will be showing my paintings during Wallingford First Wednesdays, a new art walk that my chiropractor helped to organize. I am also being considered for a flexible teaching position at my other job (the job I LOVE) which would mean not only working someplace wonderful with people I like a respect, but that I would still have lots of time to write, a break all summer, and health insurance. I know my parents are worried about me...which is hard because they just mirror the fear I've had inside me that's kept me from doing what I wanted all these years....but for the first time in a long time I feel really content. I don't feel like I am treading water or waiting for something to happen. It happened and I'm so glad it did.