It’s not a secret that I’ve been less than happy with my job for a while. There are a lot of reasons–reasons that should not be put in writing necessarily–for my unhappiness and I have focused and dwelled and stewed about them pretty much since I returned from maternity leave. I’ve spent so much time stewing, in fact, that my work has taken a major nosedive. I don’t particularly want to be doing this work, so why do it, right? So, I’ve been plugging along, doing the bare minimum and sort of lazily checking out other options and not doing anything about them either.
I’ve finally snapped out of my stupidity in the last couple of weeks, in realizing that it’s obvious that the perfect job is not going to just come around and all that I’m really doing by not doing my best work is burning bridges and destroying my credibility. This seems like an incredibly adult realization to come to when I’ve been acting like such a baby.
The fact of the matter is that I have a really good situation happening here. I’m paid well, I get a lot of time off, I work from home, and my hours are flexible. So fucking what if what I’m doing right now isn’t my favorite. So fucking what if I’m no longer The Expert everyone comes to thanks to being shuffled and shuffled and shuffled again. So fucking what if it hurt my feelings when I wasn’t given a choice in where I was placed. It’s over and it’s done. I can’t change the past, so I need to focus on the future.
What it comes down to is that I am here, in this job and I need to make the best of it. I’ve given myself a pep talk, and I’m making a commitment to doing my job well. And in doing my job well, I intend to make myself the best at it regardless of my how I feel about the work itself–making lemonade, if you will. And having committed to it, and promising myself that I’m done slacking, actually makes me feel pretty good.
Being an adult is so much different than I thought it would be.