Just over a year ago I quit my job. What a short sentence!
Behind it lies so much. I wanted to quit my job, before I even had it, about 20 years before actually. In my early twenties I didn’t want to be regular, normal or routine, I had ambitions of being free, seeing the world and having great adventures. I didn’t feel lost or lonely, I just felt excited. I was 22, sold my house (yes I bought a house when I was 21), left my job and bought a one way ticket. Except I didn’t really go, while I was getting all this ready, I met someone, fell in love and a developed a new ambition, funny how your life can turn on a sixpence
Roll the clock forward, 15 years, I’m so average and normal now, three kids, a husband and I’m nearly 40 working in public services.
My kids turned out wonderfully, my marriage not so much. I managed to have a successful career, I have no regrets and plenty to be proud of, but the craving for adventure never went away.
Thank goodness 50 is the new 40, I’m still young enough to do it. When I was young I got excited about the unknown, most things were unknown and life was so exciting. As I got older I felt like I knew everything, and I did in my tiny little world and I forgot excitement, anticipation, fear. I was very safe, I was also bored. I realise I need risks, they are more managed now, but I completely need them. So here I go, I got to the top of my career ladder and jumped right off. I’m more sensible this time, more planned and prepared, I have more fear now but I’m doing it anyway. I’m sort of starting over, with a few bags to carry motherhood and bad knees to name a couple, I am at the bottom of the ladder and I’m going to climb it to see what’s at the top. I have no idea what’s there and that’s the exciting thing.