The question isn’t, “What should I do for the rest of my life?” It’s, “What should I do next?” Neither are easy to answer. Even though I hated my job, I’m still going through some weird, mid-life crisis kind of depression. I’ve known for a long time that I don’t want “web designer” to be my job description anymore. The thing is, I can’t seem to figure out what’s next. I know nothing is forever, that we are in control of our lives and can change our paths at any time, but I don’t know what I want to commit to right now. I think what’s happened is, being a web designer was like a security blanket; I’ve built the last five years on being a web designer, and now that I know I don’t want to be a web designer anymore, I feel like I’ve lost myself. I’ve completely frozen.
While I’m happy to be rid of that horrible job, I can’t seem to make a decision. I can’t seem to move forward. I’ve been spending my days doing laundry, doing dishes, writing articles for Freaking Bookworm, watching episode after episode of Grey’s Anatomy, and playing Plants VS Zombies. While my goal for Freaking Bookworm is to make some kind of income, I have yet to bring in any income from my book review blog. (Hell, my Amazon store has only just gotten four clicks… and I set it up a couple of months ago.) Don’t get me wrong. I’m having a lot of fun writing over there, but it’s not a job. Not yet, anyway. Right now, I need a job. I’m twenty-two years old. I have a student loan to pay off. I also don’t want to live with my parents for too much longer. (Mike and I really, really miss the privilege of privacy.)
I keep thinking about going back to school. The problem is, every time I think about going back to school, it’s something different. Last time I actually went back to school, I went for Elementary Education and Creative Writing. I ended up so stressed out and sick — as in, a horrible pain flareup — that I dropped out. The next time I started thinking about school again, I thought about just majoring in Creative Writing. When things started going badly with my aunt, I thought about just going for Early Childhood Education. After that, I thought about getting my ABA and becoming an aid for students with special needs. And, most recently, I’ve been thinking about getting my Bachelor’s in Journalism (probably because of the Millennium trilogy). On October 23rd, 2009, I promised myself that I would learn to not overload myself, that I wouldn’t jump into anything again without really thinking about it first. And yet, I seem to keep trying to jump into things. I restrain myself, yes, but I keep trying.
Almost two years later, I still don’t know why I’m sick. I know that stress makes my flareups and symptoms during “remissions” much, much worse. I know that I have to go easy on myself. Even though I fought hard to keep my (horrible) full-time job, I have to admit that working eight hours a day, five days a week was taking its toll on me. And that was a desk job. I wasn’t even doing physical labor! You could say that, okay, it was mental labor, but still. It should not have tired me out so badly that I went home almost every day and either laid in bed or stared at my laptop screen until it was time to pick Mike up from work. Even ignoring all of the bullshit in that job, it was still taking a toll on my health. I hate admitting it, and I certainly wasn’t going to admit it to them, but now I have to admit it. I have to admit it because I want to move forward, and in order to move forward, I have to be completely honest with myself.
So, no, going to school full-time and working part- or full-time is not at all an option — even if I did know that I really, really wanted to go to school for something. If I did know what I wanted, I’d have to work part-time and go to school part-time.
Unfortunately, I don’t know.
Another option I’ve been thinking about is getting a part-time job and spending the other part of my time writing novels and stories (as in, finishing Sade on the Wall and getting an agent for it), and writing for Freaking Bookworm. That kind of life really appeals to me. It’s incredibly, incredibly appealing.
The only problem with that plan is… I’d really, really like for Mike and me to have our own place. He moved in last August. We’d planned on moving out sometime around now. Maybe, if I work really hard, I could make a part-time job, my writing, and my book blog equal the income I would need for us to have our own place.
I could very, very easily get another job as a web designer, where I’d make at least the same amount of money I was making at my previous job. I just don’t want to.
So, I just don’t know.
It’s times like these that I miss being a kid and having a grownup tell me what to do. Now would be a really good time for the grownups to step in.
