I had an anniversary this week, a rather unfortunate one that seriously put a dent in my savings, and left me floudering, seemingly without purpose, for the better part of three months.
A year ago Tuesday, I got fired from my old job. Have you ever been fired? It’s possibly the most soul-crushing experience, save for maybe, getting stood up at the altar or something equally tragic.
I remember buying a shirt that day, one that I can barely bring myself to wear now because that’s all I can think of when I see the geometric pattern weaving its way across the bottom half of an otherwise plan black v-neck.
I sat in the witness box for the first time, to determine the viability of a case, and a second time when that case actually went to trial. I got a verdict, and still haven’t returned that Crown’s call because I’m bad at life when it comes to returning phone calls in a timely manner.
My funemployment stint coincided with March Madness, so I really felt like I lucked out at first, but it slowly set it that I’m also really bad at putting myself out there — romantically, and career-wise. I second-guess every move, and hesitated far too much.
I only really poured my soul into one job application — for a position I ultimately didn’t get, but I kept the rejection letter in any case.
I got offered a really good position with a footwear company, but turned it down, or rather put my acceptance on hold, because I got an interview with a company that I’ve always wanted to work for, in a position that challenges my skills daily, and brings me an insane amount of pleasure and a sense of accomplishment every day.
The interview went well, I really clicked with the GM and that solidified my answer.
It has been rocky, there have been moments when I was nearly beside myself with frustration, or on the verge of tears even, and it’s one of the first times where I haven’t felt sure of myself and confident in my abilities— a thoroughly humbling experience for someone with an ego as padded as mine.
I guess what I’m trying to say, is that I’m growing up.
Meanwhile in bizarro world, it has been the complete opposite of successful, with regards to my romantic endeavours. There was that one guy from the summer that I kind of blew it with because I liked him far more than I let on but my stupid pride and bullheadedness got in the way. (I know, right?! Total shocker!) And then the other guy, who I’m now friends with, because the whole concept of dating was way too weird, and we’re better friends than lovers (there’s that whole maturity thing, rearing its ugly head).
Related: I’ve started embracing solitude, in a sort of “if you build it, they will come” sort of way and less “desperate Anna Karenina”. I’ve always been fairly introverted, but lately it has definitely been more on the contented solitude side of things, than just actively pushing people away. Bridges aren’t necessarily on the mend, but I’ve fanned the flames; it’s a start.
Semi-related: I’ve decided to try online dating. More out of frustration from having dredged the depths of my rather shallow eligible friend pool.
It’s going well so far, that’s all I have to say about that.