2/2/22 at 2… I should have worn a tutu.
Possibility for a drastic life change, on several different levels. I absolutely love my job. I work outside all day, working with my hands, using all the fun tools, learning new skills, breathing the fresh air of the woods, and staying active. Everyday comes with the risk of “will today be the day I get taken out by injury?” - especially for a meager wage I make. It’s worth it though, most days.
I left an incredibly toxic and hostile position when I took this job. Number three in the company, a decade of service - a decade enduring absurd abuse; and I walked. I simply could not take it any more and I walked out. High noon, May 1, 2019. Not in some glorious wake of standing up for myself and making a scene, no. I left in quiet defeat. They won, they broke me, I was done. Took me a long time to detox, and I am still healing. My former abusers still plague my dreams, and once I thought I saw the worst of them in a store and immediately was triggered into “fight or flight” response. That was less than a year ago.
My current job is the complete opposite. My office is the woods, my organization is amazing, and my executive team is amazingly supportive. I’m even allowed to make mistakes. I still am astounded by these things. Oh - and paid holidays. PAID holidays!!
I am not leaving my organization, but today I am in the final rounds of interviews to change positions. I love what it do, my soul is in property, but I’m not young anymore and my body hurts. A lot. More than I even realize until I have a rare participation in some edibles and then remember what NO pain feels like. I am also one injury away from not being able to work.
The potential new position - I would not love it, but I would like it, and I will be good at it. I would still be working on an amazing team, and the significant salary increase would not suck. It also speaks volumes to how much healing I’ve done, just even being able to consider going back into a position similar to what I left three years ago. I am, admittedly, nervous. Nervous about the interview, and possibly more nervous that I am going to fuck up. Leaving property would be bittersweet. If the interview goes well, I’ll probably cry. However, it’s a good change. Feels like the right direction. But I’m scared.
I have a long and growing bucket list that includes a whole lot of active adventures. If I break myself, it better be doing something epic I chose to do, not full of workers comp paperwork. It’s also a pricy bucket list. The change would make it possible. Is this adulting?