As I turned over the calendar to September 1st, I immediately closed the door on summer. No more lazy days reading and drinking wine by the pool. It was time to move on. But this year, something more happened. Something snapped: It was time.
It was time for more. This wasn’t just a shift in the seasons. It was a change in life.
All summer and even before, I have painstakingly deliberated my next steps. So much so, I have often been paralyzed with fear and uncertainty. Fear of doing the wrong thing, fear of losing precious saved money in my uncertainty.
I came to DC eight years ago with a fragile heart. Recovering over a lost love, I threw myself into graduate school and a career transition out of traditional HR work to communications.
Today, my heart is healed, I’ve transitioned out of HR and through the recession managed to survive professionally. But when I ask myself, is this the life you dreamed of, the life you want? I quickly say, “no.”
Now I’m not going all into the life I dreamed of when I was six–that would just be absurd because I’m 180 degrees from that, and that’s a whole other blog post.
It’s more about where I want to be or don’t want to be in five years. Yet right now, I’m more comfortable in the what I don’t want to be in five years than what I do, so I’m focusing on that. What does that mean today?
It means: I’m flipping my condo to a rental. Exact timing TBD, but soon. I don’t want to be 60 years old and living in my same 1.5 bedroom condo watching the traffic on 395. And unfortunately, considering when I bought my condo that’s a very reasonable scenario as it may be until then I won’t be underwater anymore.
And this is where the faith part comes in. I don’t know where I’ll go. I’m taking a page from 2003 when I knew in my heart I had to sell my Ann Arbor condo and move on. That year, I signed with a realtor and put my condo on the market with zero clue, and I mean ZERO, as to where I was going to go. I just knew it was time. Five months later, I moved out and lived in temporary housing for three months. My world did not fall apart. I figured it out. So why can’t I do the same thing again, nearly 12 years later? It’s funny how age makes us more timid, but I’m thankful for the Ann Arbor experience to guide me. I know I can do it.
So during this Labor Day holiday instead of boozing it up at the pool of which I seriously considered, I opted to begin another journey of faith. One that will require one courageous step at at time. Welcome to my journey.