Mean Something

Had a talk with Kris tonight. Well, it started off as kind of general chatter with Kris and our friend Carolyn, about what happens when I’m done with treatment, as far as work is concerned.

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And the crux of the issue is, Kris really doesn’t want me to go back to my job at all. So after we were done with dinner and driving home we talked about it a lot more. I told her that I kind of agree with her, but that (especially if I don’t get the Cancer benefit from my insurance) it would mean having to lean on her a lot more until I found something else- and possibly even beyond that if I can’t find something comparable to what I make now. And her response was that we will work it out. That she knows I am good for wahtever would need to ultimately be paid back, and that she just really is not ok with me going back to that job. Especially not after all of this.

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What it really boils down to is getting it to be right in MY head. I have grown very used to being able to support myself. With a minimum of outside assistance. And it will be hard to be unemployed again after 2 years of such rock steady work. But she made a lot of good points tonight. The real barrier to it isn’t even financial. Kris would support me if I needed it until I found the right thing. The barrier to it was my own mind. My own pride.

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But the truth is, those that know me know that this job is not ME. It’s not where my heart is, my heart is in my art. It’s in my camera, it’s in prints and frames and all the little things that no one else even notices. It’s in a photo on canvas on a wall. It’s in my body, and these little tiny acts of activism and fat acceptance that I grow stronger and more vocal about day by day by day.

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I want my life to make a difference. I want my voice and my eye and my art to MEAN something. And I can’t do that behind the desk of that job. It will never happen. And if I go back, it won’t matter how good my intentions are… I won’t pursue what I should be doing.

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And I said last night that maybe this is the Universe’s way of giving me the gift of a gift-wrapped excuse. Of telling me that there is MORE to my future than life behind a desk captive to some rich creep’s misplaced priorities.

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So I will carry my camera. I’ll carry my short lens, and learn to use it and love it. I will open my eyes to the world again in ways I haven’t in a very. very. long time.

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I will make art. I will make cards. And as I kill the cancer, as I step back into my own space and time and energy and health and life I will go out and do more, shoot more, create more. And maybe when the time comes I won’t need to play by someone else’s rules at all.

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For once in my life I have a passion and dedication and determination… and a safety net of people gathered behind me to support me while I try.

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And odds are… I will need to find another job. But I will pick more carefully this time. I will not be caught up in the desperation of the first offer. I will take the time to choose. And I will decide and pursue something that doesn’t want to take over my life… but to supplement it instead.

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And the universe nods it’s approval and clears the way and steals my excuses and reminds me… my life is worth so. much. more- and it’s time to act in accordance with that.

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It’s time to make my life extraordinary.