Everything happens for a reason

It’s funny they say everything happens for a reason. I always tell people I totally agree with this, even when I’m moaning about my current life state. Sometimes it takes a little bit of time to understand why certain things were/are happening.

I got super sick at the beginning of the year. Lost about 12 pounds and overall just felt my health deteriorating. Looking back now, I know it was because of job stress. Not that the job was stressful, but the fact that I hated every second of it was wearing on me more than I thought. Add close to 8 months of wear and tear and I would say that my health actually fought pretty well until it couldn’t take it anymore.

After I got better, and I mean literally days after, I got let go from my job. It feels weird actually admitting this, but it was the biggest relief. Yeah it sucks not getting a paycheck every two weeks, but it sucks even more hating your life because of your employment. Not that the place I worked at was bad per se, it was that the work wasn’t meaningful to me. I didn’t feel as if I was contributing to anything productive. It was a black hole of wasted time.  

Everything happens for a reason.

Being unemployed has given me the chance to reset and go about things the way I want. I get to wake up when I want, not when the clock says I should. I spend my days reading and typing, making the hours fly by instead of drag on tortuously. I get to sit quietly by myself and reflect, not have to listen to mindless noise of desk mates. I can go for a run at 2pm, not at 7pm when I’m exhausted from hating my job and being stuck in traffic for an hour. I can stay up late and get pancakes at Steak ‘n Shake with John while staying up until the sun, making him laugh.

There’s a lot of things I should want right now. Maybe planning a wedding, or wanting a kid, or making six figures and buying a house. But honestly, I am happy. I’m finally finding out and letting myself admit that my heart belongs to writing. Not business writing, not content writing, not copywriting, but writing writing; storytelling. I feel alive when I’m writing my novel. For the first time in a long time, I know where I belong. It makes me happy.

I’m not ashamed to say that I may not be cut out for the corporate world. But not everyone is cut out to be an author. We need each kind of people in the world. Just because I don’t fit in somewhere doesn’t mean I’m not special. Just means I’m different. And I am okay with that. More than okay. I love it.