I remember, over three years ago, telling myself I needed to do something else... something else, mind you, other than being a full-time mom, full-time wife, freelance writer, and vintage clothing seller. No -- I needed to do something else so I could feel like I was really doing something.
Really working.
I remember pulling on my boots one day and tying them while in tears thinking, "I have too much time on my hands." I need to do something productive.
Looking back, I know now that these thoughts were insanity. I think I was just out of my mind for a few months and really needed someone to slap me and say, "Lady, you are doing more than enough. You are enough just as you are."
But, I needed to be really working.
Why would I say this? And why would I even think to ask myself this? Wasn't I already working? Wasn't that enough?
So, I added a part-time job to my schedule.
Then a year later, added another one.
There's this stigma out there for women --who don't work outside of the home-- that in some way, somehow in ways that defy logic (logic that bamboozled me), that we aren't really working if we don't wear heals and head to an office for eight hours.
This concept is glorified in television, it's talked about in books, heck, the working professional concept is the premise of every Hallmark movie.
And yet, if I really thought through these lightweight Hallmark movies, did not the working girl -- every time -- leave the corporate office job for the one out in the country? Didn't she crave a job that wasn't quite normal? The one she really wanted that didn't involve bosses and pantyhose, but doing things that made her happy?
Really working? As in, I wasn't working before this?
Three years later, I'm rejoicing after finally realizing that what I was doing before was exactly what I wanted to do now -- only more of it.
I'm freelance writing to my heart's content, writing middle-grade fiction -- that may or may not see the light of day -- and selling vintage clothing. All the things that don't seem like work. All the things that I love doing with every fiber of me.
This was work that I didn't think was work because I got such joy in doing them.
Therein lay the conflict.
I was working. But I was doing stuff I loved so much that it didn't feel like work.
It made me feel like I needed to do more.
But, I was wrong. I needed to stay right where I was and do more of what I loved.
Instead, I got two (two!) different new jobs during this three-year time span. And while they were wonderful learning experiences, and I can add them to my resume, here was the problem: I lost myself and my love for life in all of it.
I didn't need to do more. I was enough, doing enough, and God was good to give me what I loved to do early on in life (and put it right in my face for a decade) until I decided it wasn't enough.
My bad.
All of these jobs became overwhelming. I acquired an auto-immune disease. Things sort of fell apart -- as did my body -- and I was unhappy. I didn't get to do as much of what I loved to do anymore (freelance writing and selling vintage) because I had two new jobs to do.
Real work.
I finally got rid of both jobs.
I'm free.
Think the grass is greener on the other side? It's not. As the adage says, "Water the grass on your own side."
For me, that meant doing more of what I loved.
This is now my only goal.
I'm watering my own grass, thank you very much, just enough to make my grass grow wild and green, and am thrilled I re-found myself in the last three years.
-Heather