I’m stuck in a career rut. And I’m sure my husband wonders what could’ve been if he had hooked up with someone else. I’ve told him he can move on if he wants but he’s still here. I don’t believe in holding on to someone who wants to move on. Live and let live and all that. Sure I’ll be mad for a while. But I’ll move on too.

Anyhow. I’m in a career rut. I’ll bet lots of you are. Years ago I wasn’t sure of anything. So I jumped into something “just for now while I figure things out” and then twenty years later here I am, doing the same stupid thing. The reason? Time moves—you guessed it—at the speed of light. Isn’t that the weirdest thing? It sure seems like it does. You look back at your life and it feels as if it all happened within seconds. The funny thing is, people told me this years ago. Careful, they said. Choose your rut with great care. And I never listened.

Parents do love you. And they mean well. Or something. For whatever reason, they took care of me, and for that I will always be grateful. But they were clueless about what I was about. Chasms ensued. We’re miles apart now. I still love them. I’ll visit them someday, when I’m not scared to make the trip.

But back to the point. Your parents will try to turn you towards something they think is safe. Doctor or lawyer school. Don’t listen if you don’t want to be a doctor or lawyer. I know it seems selfish, but you must listen to your own interests. That’s what you’ll eventually revert to anyhow, so YOU MAY AS WELL LISTEN TO IT NOW. My parents constantly told me to ignore writing. Guess what I’m doing now. They hated me. Well, that’s not entirely true. They loved me. I’m pretty sure my mom pitied me. A lot of people back then pitied me. I was so skinny. No one would want to marry me. What in God’s name would they do with me? But I was a fast learner, and did well at school. So they told me to go into science and be valuable so someone would want to marry me. I did. I almost got a PhD. But it—and the mutual disgust—took me miles away from them and now I’m not sure I’ll see them again. It’s been twenty years. I still make excuses not to see them. They’re old and may die soon. And I’m still making excuses not to see them. I keep telling myself I love them, that I’ve forgiven them. And sometimes I feel I do. But then why am I not taking the risk of traveling out there to see them?

Listen only to yourself. In the end you’ll have only yourself to rely on, so you may as well listen to the ONLY person who’ll help you out in the future: YOU.

FUCK FASHION. I cannot say this enough. Sure, dress nice. But don’t be a whore for it. If you’re trying to find a boyfriend or husband or partner, dress nice. But don’t waste too much time on it. Your guy or girl knows what you look like naked, even if you’re wearing a sack. So fashion can go fuck itself.

Lastly, stop judging yourself against other people. There are nineteen-year-olds who are self-made millionaires. Yeah, I hate them too. But we don’t know how they got there. One thing’s for sure, they listened to themselves. It’s possible they had nice parents or a nice family that ENCOURAGED them to follow their instincts. Take these people as a sign that you can make it if you want to, no matter how old you are , no matter how long you’ve been in that shitty career field. So GO FOR IT. RIGHT FUCKING NOW.


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