Back when I was a kid there was a TV show called, Doogie Howser M.D. For those of you young enough to have been spared this time in history it’s basically the story of how Barney from, How I Met Your Mother, was a kid doctor. He spent his days learning about life, love, and horrible diseases. At the end of every episode, Doogie would sit down at his trusty computer (with super hot DOS interface) and write up his thoughts about the day. Doogie made keeping a diary cool, even before the advent of the internet.
I bring this up only because I’ve come to the realization that this blog has basically become my own little (not at all) private journal. As such occasionally you guys are gonna be on the receiving end of me rambling inanely as I try to make sense of things. Apologies in advance, but if I just sat around talking to myself all day my family would have to have me committed. This is by far the cheaper option.
Currently I’m wrestling with the problem of finding fulfillment. See husband and I have both been feeling a bit unmotivated at our jobs as of late. This happens to everyone, you wake up one day, look around, and shudder in horror at the sheer mundaneness of your life. When we are children we dream of being artists and astronauts, then we grow up and sell office supplies and answer phones. It’s a depressing thing to realize that the life you always dreamed of having somehow got lost along the way to growing up and being able to pay your mortgage. The question I’m battling with now is whether to just come to terms with this or fight back.
There are countless inspirational quotes flooding the world about the importance of never giving up, of finding something that makes you happy and doing it for the rest of your life. These are warm, fuzzy thoughts, but how realistic is it to expect to find happiness while you are bogged down with a life of responsibilities? Husband secretly dreams of making a living with his woodworking. He’s very talented (seriously, check out the blog he just started), but he knows it’s just not feasible for our family for him to just up and quit his job and hope for the best. I wish I could tell him to just go for it, that we’d find a way to make it work, but since he’s the one who keeps up with our finances he knows better than to believe me.
I come here and lament to you guys about how I want to make a living with my writing, possibly doing some awesome nerd crafting on the side (seriously, I make damn cute things), but what are the odds of that ever actually happening for me? Probably far less if I’m so worried about failing that I can never beat back my own self-doubt long enough to try.
The thing is, I want us both to have the chance to do the things we love. We only get one shot at life (unless you’ve got an awesome religion that grants additional shots) so it’s only fair that we go all in and do whatever it takes to make it worthwhile.
We had tried a business once before, back while I was a stay-at-home mom. After two years we called it quits. It wasn’t really a failure, we did learn a lot during that time. I think given the chance we’d be able to skip most of the missteps we made the first time around. Now we’re both dreaming of trying something new and it’s daunting and scary which is the main reason I think we might actually be onto something. Great things don’t just come from accepting the status-quo. Mediocrity and safety don’t yield amazing results.
Sometimes I think I’ve been mislead and my occasional bouts of idealism are entirely unfounded. As children we are all taught that each one of us is a special little snowflake, capable of achieving anything our little hearts set out to do. As we grow up we find out that many doors were never open to us at all and most people don’t give even a token fuck for our happiness.
This is the crossroads I find myself at now. Looking down the road I’ve been traveling and wondering if I should just keep going to the end because I’ve already gone so far, I’m too old and tired, most importantly I have a pretty good idea of where I’m going. Hell, the other road could be a dead end for all I know. Yet still, I look back over my shoulder at where another road branches off from this one and I can’t help but wonder if I should double back and try again.