I quit my job January 10th.
Yes, that was me dancing with my steering wheel, the blasting soundtrack of Mamma Mia making my little car hop and skip up Harrison street that morning. (Out of deference to my children, who do still have to visit this town occasionally, I did not make a video of that and post it on YouTube. You’re welcome!)
Verbs are important – note that I did not retire. I quit. I made an investment in my future happier healthier self. I spent the first week waking up in a panic thinking I had slept through my alarm. I updated my LinkedIn profile. I started a class on The Art of Marketing Your Art. One morning it felt like all of the federal passwords and userIDs in my head went into a bucket of sludge and were dumped overboard, leaving a lovely clear space on my internal disk drive. I read the January issue of National Geographic cover to cover.
I quit. What does that mean? At the moment it means the same thing as when a highschool graduate, or a college junior, says, “I’m taking a break for a year.” Or, “I’m taking a gap year.” For them that probably translates to, “I’m not sure what I want to be when I grow up. I’m moving back home.”
For me it translates to, “I’m hoping to take my art to the next level, and my husband and I are fully committing to it. Because I’m as grown up as I’m ever going to be. And I am very sure what I do NOT want to do. Because I’ve done it for the last seven years.” (I draw the line at moving back in with my Mom, though!)
The second week after I quit, I planted primroses in the pots on the front porch. On a whim I pulled one back up and painted the above picture. And so begins the next chapter of my life – colorful, optimistic, simple. A day at a time.
Woohoo! So long and thanks for all the fish!
(For the record, kids, next time I have that much fun, I’m gonna do the video!)