The End

After Friday, I will no longer be a desk jockey, an office administrator. I will have to administrate my own office. My own home, my own self. “Freelance.” And I have to admit, with expletive, I’m fucking terrified.

I never thought of the office job as a permanent career thing. There’s really no opportunity for advancement, no good reason to stay forever. But the job is easy. It’s low pressure, manageable and steady income, and the people are incredible (see: Surprise). I’m actually really sad to leave. My desk has functioned well for me for three-plus years. I have personalized my office computer, I’ve gotten into a routine. And I’ve grown so much just by being there.

I’m not intimidated by the phone as much as I used to be. I’m more confident when asking questions to clarify information or if I just plain don’t know something. I can talk to strangers in a real-life social networking capacity. I’ve even made a few good friends, none of whom I would have known had it not been for this job. And these are friends who can also teach me a lot, have taught me so much, about myself, about business, about life in general.

I keep telling myself and everyone who asks that I’m going to stay involved with the organization. And I really want to make that happen. But it’s not going to be the same. Just like entering the Borders store where I used to work has gone from knowing several salespeople by name to walking into a familiar place and seeing not one single familiar face. I’m just another customer now. Because we all move on, in one way or another.

So here I sit, at the cusp of something entirely uncertain. Not knowing what will come my way, if I’ll actually make something of myself. I’m trying to be optimistic, and I’m trying to take hold of the hands that might lead me somewhere great, but it’s tough. And scary. Because the bills will keep coming every month, regardless of how much I’m working or getting paid, or not. And while I know that there are people around who can come to our rescue, I really don’t want to get to that point. Call it pride. I’ve always tried to be responsible, to lie in the beds that I made. But here in the back of my mind, I’m constantly wondering, what if I can’t make this new life work? What happens then?

I’m entering into a world with new rules. I don’t know them all, and I find myself wondering if I will have the time and the discipline to learn how to navigate everything. The mortgage, the baby, the income. Thank God for James, at least I’m not in it all alone. And I really do know that no matter what happens, we will be okay, even if it takes a little while. There’s some comfort in that.

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