I quit my job why? Because ‘normal’ really IS just a setting on my washing machine? Because I really AM just a hippie in my heart? I told my husband I’m a gypsy. So, which is it? Probably both. The economy is in the toilet, my husband works in retail which depends on a so-called healthy economy, and even then it doesn’t pay much unless a person is in upper management, my truck may be older than I am (it’s 21), I still have debt, and I quit my job.
I have a serious gene that wants to plan my life down to how much money I’ll have, when I’ll have it, and what I’ll do with it. But I’m related to folks who did things like load the family in the car one day to go to one place and get back home the same day, and they ended up going a lot of places, and not coming home for a week.
For the past few years I thought I needed to get a degree so I could have a steady income that pays well (that was the serious gene), and I’d like to do that just for the fun of it, but what I want to do – what I really, deep down want to do – doesn’t require a degree. I raised three sons and when we would talk about work or careers, I told each of them to do the thing that is in his heart to do. That’s the scariest thing to do! It’s the thing that means the most, so if it doesn’t work out it’s the most painful outcome. It’s also the most satisfying because if it does work out – wow. Wouldn’t that be something?
This wasn’t totally an impulse. I had a feeling I wasn’t going to be doing this job for the whole rest of the year, but until I got some art supplies for Mother’s Day, I didn’t know I would quit NOW! I soon realized that I was having trouble being in ‘work the job’ gear and ‘doing the art’ gear at the same time.
Friday evening I called a friend and found out she was struggling with a decision, too. We talked about all this and we seem to be wired from the same diagram. I told her about an old leather hat I have that I call my hippie hat. My husband got it for me at the Fair in 1976. It seemed like my friend and I both needed to wear that hat in our imaginations so it would give us courage. Two days later, she was headed up the coast of California for her bit of adventure and I was quitting my job.
In one of my daydreams, I live in a school bus. I travel the US writing, selling art, doing odd jobs if the money gets too tight, doing a bit of volunteer work in soup kitchens here and there. I’m going to try that life on, just without the bus. I think I’ll go dig that hat out of the closet.