I Didn't Know to Dream This

This weekend I had the pleasure of attending Gather at the River, a two-day choral conference put together by the New Hampshire and Vermont chapters of the ACDA. It was held at Dartmouth College, in the lovely little town of Hanover, NH. You can visit the link above to see the rundown of the things we did during those two days, but it was basically workshops, learning, and singing with dozens of choral directors and choir members from VT, NH, and MA. Friday night there was a more formal concert where three groups (including the Concord Chorale, my current musical family) performed for the public. On Saturday evening, we held an informal concert where we performed for each other to showcase the pieces we had learned over two days in three small chamber groups, as well as the whole group performance of the Duruflé Requiem under our guest conductor, Dr. Joe Miller of Westminster Choir College. It was an overall wonderful, enlightening experience.

During his keynote speech at the start of the conference, Dr. Miller talked about how his love of music and choral singing developed in a non-musical football family. Now that he's teaching at the Westminster Choir College, he said someone once asked if it was his dream job, and his response was, "I didn't know to dream this."

I didn't know to dream this.

Those words stuck with me. I find myself feeling similarly about certain things in my own life at times. I'm the type of person who likes to daydream about the best outcomes while acknowledging the possibility for the worst and knowing the reality will fall somewhere along that infinite spectrum. I generally try not to have too many big expectations about things. I go with the flow. And the result has been that sometimes the best outcomes are things I hadn't even imagined on the spectrum of possibility.

In high school. I attended a young writer's workshop for a few weeks one summer. The feeling of being among other young writers who loved this thing that I also loved, and who enjoyed learning and practicing and sharing our craft together the way we did there, had been something that, before I experienced it, I wouldn't have imagined possible. The same thing happened with this choral conference. I had never been to anything like it, and it exceeded what I could have hoped for. I had that same feeling of being a big old nerd finding the mother ship of other music nerds who just really love music and singing and learning about both of those. In a few short weeks I'll be attending the Romance Writers of America annual conference, and while I'm trying to do the whole "no expectations" thing, it won't surprise me to be overcome by the same sense of nerdy joy when I find myself surrounded by hundreds of other writers who want to geek out over writing and the same things that I love.

Going back to the idea of a dream job or profession, where I am right now in life is also a place I wouldn't have thought to dream. Nailing down what I "want to be" into a clear path and career goal was always something that filled me with dread and uncertainty. I just didn't know. I still don't know. I knew that I loved a lot of different things in different ways. I was lucky to find a college major at a school where I could combine a lot of different passions into one thing. But, as you can probably guess, that didn't translate to a clear, successful career path once I graduated. (Don't get me wrong, I don't regret my major or my degree one little bit. I loved every minute of my experience. It made me happy.) After fumbling around in retail for eight years trying to find the right company, the right position, the right place where I fit and could use my skills and love of fashion and do something I enjoyed without coming to hate it after a a year or two, I quit. I gave it up and turned toward some of the other interests I had. It was clear that this one passion wasn't enough to fulfill me.

If you had asked me at any point in my life, even right up until the start of this year, if I thought I could be happy doing three different jobs at once, I probably would've told you that that sounded miserable. And on the surface, plenty of people might agree that working three jobs is just nuts. But it's where I am, and I love it.

Earlier this year I started working as a speech and language annotator. It can feel a bit tedious at times because it's a lot of staring at the computer screen and clicking the mouse, but there's something about it that satisfies my love of language and the analytical part of my brain. I never even knew such a position existed until I was approached by a recruiter who found me based on my freelance transcription business.

I'm an author. I write and publish novels and short stories featuring the drama, humor, sexiness, heartbreak, and joy of relationships. I've also written some erotic scripts for a startup company bringing innovation to erotica.

My third job is my newest, and it's as a freelance copyeditor at Mistress Editing. After writing the romance and the sex and all that awesome stuff in my own stories and having friends ask me for help with theirs over the years, this seemed like the logical next step.

These three things together are how I'm currently making my living, and having a blast doing it. I now have the time to commit to rehearsals and performances with a community choir, which I wasn't able to do when I was working retail. I still love fashion, but my retail career made me miserable. Maybe sometime soon I'll be able to make the time and the space to do some fashion design sketches or start sewing at home again, for the love of it. Fashion, music, and writing. My three biggest passions. I never thought they could all coexist in my life and that I could also have a satisfying job(s) that paid actual money.

I guess my overall point is this: Dream your dreams, but keep your eyes open. Don't let expectations or even dreams blind you to potential opportunities that may just having you saying I didn't know to dream this.

Compersion for the New Year

No, that's not a typo in the title. I did mean compersion and not compassion. I came across the term in some reading a few years ago (oh, the things you learn as a writer!) and it has stuck with me ever since because I think it fits a part of me that I never knew how to name. Compersion is a word coined by members of the Kerista Commune in the '70s, I believe, and it was used in the context of polyamory to describe the feelings of joy or happiness upon seeing one's partner(s) experiencing their own happiness. When you hear polyamory you might be tempted to zero in on romantic and sexual relationships. Of course, when speaking of polyamory and compersion together, that's going to be part of it. But this post isn't about polyamory. And no matter where the term originated, compersion doesn't necessarily have to be romantic or sexual in nature.

Photo by african_fi

Think about it. When someone else's happiness or joy causes you to feel your own happiness or joy. If you've never experienced it, maybe it doesn't make as much sense to you as it does to me. I think compersion is something I've experienced and expressed for as long as I can remember, in completely platonic ways. It's still something I feel to this day, in many circumstances. It's not quite the same thing as empathy, either. Empathy is when you can understand and identify with someone else's emotions, and perhaps experience them vicariously. But with compersion, it isn't that I'm identifying with someone else's happiness exactly. If a friend gets promoted at work, my empathy allows me to share in their excitement and identify with their happiness. If I experience compersion in that same scenario, what I'm feeling is my happiness. Does that make sense? Empathy and compersion can be experienced simultaneously, and they probably are quite often. I've only very recently (as in, just today) learned of the Buddhist concept/term mudita, which appears to be very close to what I mean when I say compersion. If you're familiar with that, perhaps that's a better framework to think of it. But since compersion is the term I've come to identify with, and I really know very little about mudita, I'll stick with compersion for now.

So anyway... why do I bring it up? Because in our society we often discourage talking about feeeelings past a certain age or beyond a certain scope that doesn't fit into predetermined stereotypes. You can "love" your friends, but you luuuurve your romantic partner (and by golly, you'd better only have one of those at a time, and you're always searching for The One who will show you that you obviously never really knew what love was!) and there's absolutely no in-between or crossover. Boys don't cry. Girls cry a lot. You're allowed to be angry, but not too angry! And so on and so forth, but most of all, nobody wants to really hear you talk about any of those feelings. And so when I experienced what I now identify as compersion at a younger age (and even still now) sometimes it led to feeling tremendously awkward and unsure. I never knew what to say or how to say it. I just knew that I would find myself in these moments of love and joy and happiness that centered around particular people. Friends, teachers, sometimes near strangers, family members. It might've been a simple smile, something small or large happening in their lives that brought them happiness, or even just their natural optimism on a particularly good day. It could be any or all of those things that triggered my own happiness in turn. And it can be potent, that happiness. But when you're a teen experiencing all sorts of complicated things, and no one ever stops and says "Hey, let's talk about happiness and touchy-feely emotional things," it's very easy to start wondering what the hell it is you're actually experiencing.

Growing up, I'd usually just keep my thoughts to myself, especially when they centered around feelings of compersion. Sometimes, though, it got to be too much, and words would just spill out of me. On paper, naturally, because that's how I've always chosen to express myself. (My shyness makes face to face expression of these things nearly unbearable.) So I'd write heartfelt thank you notes to teachers or friends. (Or I'd channel it into fiction if I couldn't bring myself to tell the actual person.) And I probably rambled a lot and tried to name specific things I appreciated about that person because it felt too weird to boil it all down to the simple truth: Your passion brings me joy. So I'd write the note, and I'd hand it over, and then I'd worry myself sick over how they might respond. I didn't want anyone to get the wrong idea about what I meant, because I was certain they would. It would be easy to interpret it as something other than what I'd intended. And I was so very afraid of looking stupid, or not being liked, and I would vow never to put myself out there that way again. And I wouldn't, for a while. But then the cycle would start over again.

My teen years went by like that. I'll be 32 this year, and somewhere along the line I really did stop taking the time to put myself out there and express to specific individuals how happy it made me to see their happiness. And if I did express it, it was in a much more careful and guarded way. I'm not sure why. I never did experience that Holy shit, you are such a creep, leave me alone response that I so feared. But I fear it still. Maybe even more now than when I was younger. I'd like to let my compersion be more readily visible again, though. Partially for purely selfish reasons. It just feels so damn nice to revel in that joy. But also because... well... maybe we all need more of it. Even if it's not a feeling you identify within yourself, imagine what it might be like if someone told you that the happiness you derive from the good things in life made them happy as well. Wouldn't that be pretty fucking fantastic? You didn't even have to bake them cookies or loan them money or cure a disease. Just being happy for something good within your own life was enough to make someone else smile. I think it would be pretty nice.

So to all my friends, family, acquaintances, and anyone I may come into contact with this year (and here's the real point of this post) I just want to say this: I'm not trying to be creepy, honest! Don't think me weird or strange or awkward (well, okay, I may very well be awkward) when I tell you how much I love the way you light up when you talk about something wonderful that you've experienced. I really do love seeing the passion you pour into your hobbies and the things you enjoy. That actor or artist you love. The new relationship that's making you walk without even touching the ground. The courage with which you face adversity. The rewards you reap from your hard work. Your book deal. That picture you drew. That kid you're raising. The animal you adopted. I love it. All of it. I'm not just happy for you in all those cases. You truly give me a joy and happiness of my own, the magnitude of which you may never truly understand, just by expressing the happiness those things bring you. Your passion brings me joy. I hope you don't mind if I say so.

For the Love of David Tennant and Real-Life Heroes

On Monday I shared this photo across a few of my social media outlets. If you know anything about me, you know how much I love David Tennant. Not just because he's hot, but because he played one of my favorite heroes of all time, Doctor Who. When I saw this picture, I didn't look too closely at it. I just swooned, pretty much. Then a friend on Twitter burst my bubble when she said she was pretty sure it was photoshopped. I was super bummed! But when I looked more closely I realized she was right. My first instinct was that it was David Tennant's head shopped onto Tom Cruise's body from Top Gun. But I couldn't find a photo of Tom Cruise in the same stance and clothing. So I kept looking.

I'm not sure what it was that made me keep digging through the depths of the Internet, but I spent just about half a day scouring images. I was determined to find the original. Finally, with the help of TinEye, I found the original image. I was not at all prepared for what I found out, either.

Let me introduce you to Major Michael Donnelly, United States Air Force veteran. Donnelly was a Connecticut native who served 15 years as a fighter pilot, including service during Operation Desert Storm. He retired in 1996 after being diagnosed with ALS, or Lou Gehrig's disease. He then spent many years doing work as an advocate for his fellow Gulf War veterans and wrote a book, Falcon's Cry: A Desert Storm Memoir, published in 1998. Donnelly lost his battle with ALS in 2005. His home town of South Windsor, CT created a land reserve and award in his honor.

Considering I found very few places online where the original image of Donnelly shows up, I'm not sure how someone came to find it in order to shop David Tennant's head onto it. But they did. I wasn't sure how to feel about the fact that someone had taken the image of this man who selflessly served his country and made him unrecognizable to serve their own David Tennant obsession. But they did. And my love of David Tennant brought the photo to my attention this week, which in turn led to my discovery of the life of Major Michael Donnelly. And now you know a little bit of his story, too.

Life is funny sometimes.

On Happiness and Mental Health

A friend asked me recently if I consider myself a happy person. I do. Most people would say I am. One of the most frequent comments I get is about how much and how often I smile. Even in spite of the I love humanity/I hate humanity dichotomy that lives in my brain, my default is positivity. Sure, I'm happy. Easy to answer. The next question was a little tougher.

What makes you a happy person?

Well, hell. That's a hard one to verbalize. It's sort of like asking why my hair is brown. Short of the scientific explanation offered by genetics, the short answer is "It just is." I can chemically alter my hair to make it a different color, and I can do that for a multitude of reasons, but it doesn't change the fact that my natural state of being is to have brown hair.

Same goes for my happiness. It's how I am and how I've always been, at my core. My default position is to smile, to trust, to love, to go with the flow, to see the good and to actively look for it if it's not immediately evident, to laugh, to be content. How do you break down something that's as much a part of you as the nose on your face so that someone else can understand it and adapt it for their own life?

Depression, Anxiety, Sadness, etc.

The fact that I'm generally a happy person doesn't mean I haven't had my own emotional struggles. I know sadness and fear and anxiety. In my teens and early 20s there was an undercurrent of tension and sadness in my head that most people wouldn't have known was there. Being a shy introvert probably didn't help matters, since talking it out with someone didn't even register on my list of coping mechanisms. I preferred working through it in my own head, or on paper. My "standard" of happiness didn't go away during that time, though. It coexisted either simultaneously with the sadness or as a reminder of who I really was during those times when I could not figure out why I was feeling so bad.

I didn't learn to drive until I was in my mid-20s and even then it took me a couple years before I actually got my license at the age of 28. My anxiety about it was that overwhelming that I truly had no desire to get behind the wheel of a car. I'm coming up on three years with my license and I still get slightly anxious when driving to new places, or driving more than a few miles in the dark, or in the rain/fog/snow. I won't go anywhere for the first time without my GPS. When I joined a choir last fall I used the GPS on my phone to get there and back the first time... but also for every weekly rehearsal for three months after that until the anxiety about driving in unfamiliar areas subsided.

The struggles I've been through are the equivalent of coloring and cutting my hair. My hair has looked all kinds of crazy ways temporarily, but there's nothing that will change the fact that my natural state is brunette. And while I've had moments where my mental health looked a bit different, I honestly don't think there's anything that can change my happiness default. For some reason, that was a big surprise when I realized that.

Is Happiness Rational?

My fear of driving was not rational or logical. The sadness and frustration that sometimes crashed over me when I was younger was not rational. But that didn't make them any less real to me at the time or any easier to conquer. They just were. I couldn't really explain those things to other people without feeling a little silly. But the same things goes for my happiness. I don't know how or why I'm happy, and trying to dissect it makes me feel weird. There's no logical reason for it.

Part of me believes strongly in the power of positive thought. I don't mean thinking about being a millionaire so you'll magically attract all the right things to make you one. I mean having the ability to recognize and change thought patterns to reclaim my happiness when I feel it slipping. A teacher in high school would often say "Today is going to be a good day" out loud in class and I find that helpful still. It's not about ignoring or denying the negative. When I find myself drifting into one of those irrational funks, I look at it and ask myself Is there a reason I'm feeling this way? Has something happened to make me feel this way? and if the answer is no I'll ask myself Is this mood serving any purpose besides making me moody? and if the answer is still no then I decide right then and there that I will strive for something more positive. There are times when what I'm feeling is the direct result of something happening in my life and/or what I'm feeling is driving me to make positive changes or get things done that I need/want to get done. And when that happens, I acknowledge what I'm feeling and even embrace it for a short time before sending it on its way in favor of my usual happy disposition. It sounds easy, but it's not. I don't mean to imply that it's easy. It's just a place to start. (Let me be clear that I'm not trying to say that anyone can and should just "positive think" themselves out of depression or mental illness. Please don't be afraid to seek professional help.)

Positive thinking is more a coping mechanism for when I feel unlike myself. I wouldn't say it's why I'm a happy person because it's something I've had to learn to do. And like I've been saying, being happy and upbeat is just who and how I am without reason. In talking with my friend it hit me:

It's likely that all the people who've ever asked me about my positive outlook on life and my happy disposition were just as baffled by my explanation as I was about the notion that I could do or be anything other than how I've always been.

I don't like to think that I've been so oblivious that I haven't realized that not everyone is happy. I know they aren't. But it was a bit of an epiphany to think that not only are some people unhappy, but some are unhappy (or at least "less" happy relatively) because they just are and always have been. We have different baselines and my happiness doesn't make any more logical sense than their unhappiness.

My friend and I have always had certain different ways of approaching things and that's part of why we're such great  friends. I like to think we've challenged and checked each other over the years in ways that made us both better people. But I admit to qualifying my feelings and private thoughts now and then with sentiments like "if only you were happier." How things would just be so much better "if only you were happier" because I was convinced that that was the answer to my friend's troubles. I never understood that our differences in how we see the world extended so far beyond political and social ideology all the way into that non-rational space of happiness. I never thought that other people weren't equally as happy as me, down in their core. I figured their unhappiness was either a temporary state of being brought on by whatever biochemistry is responsible for our mental health, as mine often was, or the result of any number of external factors and experiences and that they would return to their natural state of happiness with time or counseling or medication. Those things can affect happiness, no doubt, but that's not the point.

I can't change my friend's baseline any more than they could change mine. It's not a huge revelation, although it feels like one to me. But it does change the way I'll think about, talk to, and empathize with my friend. I love this person like mad and it breaks my heart to see them struggling with something that comes so naturally to me. All I can do is continue to say I love, I'm here for you. Most importantly, I hope my friend and I can take a bit of the pressure off - me off myself for feeling like I should somehow be able to explain my own happiness in a way that they can make it their own, and my friend for feeling like my or anyone else's happiness is the gold standard.

Happiness doesn't make any more rational sense than anything else. My happy isn't your happy. Mentally healthy is what we should strive for, not the amorphous sliver of happiness in anyone else that they likely have no more control over than anything else.

And to my friend, who may be tired of hearing it by now: I love you. And I'm sorry if I've ever made you feel like you should just look at things through my happy lenses in order to make all your troubles go away.

On Waffling

 via Wikimedia Commons

Mmmm.... waffles. Buttery, sweet, yummy... oh wait, sorry. Not those waffles. I meant waffle the verb. From Dictionary.com:

waf·fle
verb (used without object), waf·fled, waf·fling.
1.to speak or write equivocally: to waffle on an important issue.

I'll come back to waffling in just a sec.

Several months ago I updated the look and feel of the blog here, and I had some ideas about new directions I wanted to go. I encouraged anyone interested in the nitty gritty, technical writing stuff that I would post here now and then to follow me over at From the Write Angle because I wanted to branch out in this space. I wanted to turn it more into something that will let me connect with a lot of people besides my fellow writers. I envisioned posting a lot more stuff centered on some of my personal thoughts and beliefs about all sorts of stuff. I didn't want to shy away from hard, complex, personal, or controversial discussions. "They" say an author shouldn't get too political on social media or else they run the risk of alienating potential readers who don't share the same views. But I say screw it. We're all grown ups capable of intelligent debate and the occasional disagreement.

The truth is I like some good intellectual intercourse now and then.

But as you may have noticed, there has been a distinct lack of posting recently. I've held back from putting my more serious thoughts on paper. Or the screen, as it were. And not because of a fear of hurting my sales as an author. So why, then? Why, indeed.

Over on FTWA this week, Charlee Vale wrote about getting a "case of the whys" when she sat down to write. I could certainly relate on a broad level. Sometimes I feel like I have a perpetual case of the whys when it comes to social media. I'll think maybe I should blog about this, or post this on Facebook, or tweet this and almost immediately that little voice in the back of my head says why? And it's very often followed quickly by a who cares? Part of that is just self doubt that I need to get over. But there's something else, too.

After reading Charlee's post, I decided I needed to address this nasty case of the whys that has been keeping me from posting what I want on the blog. I answered the question of why. The answer, my friends, is blowing in the wind waffling.

I'm an introvert. I spend a lot of time tucked away in the corner of my own mind, thinking about possibilities and consequences and maybes and what-ifs. That's part of why I write. That's also why I tend to look and observe and stay quiet a looooong time before speaking. I like to think things through before committing a thought to words out loud. Partially because I like doing things right the first time, but also because I've noticed that people don't like when you change your mind.

Sometimes I think I'm a little quirky in that I can be pretty comfortable with cognitive dissonance at times. I can entertain two conflicting ideas at the same time. (I love people and have an almost naive faith in humanity, and yet I can't stand people. That sort of thing, but sometimes it's on a much more complex scale.) This can be unnerving for people. I get that. And although I may be stubborn and feel like I'm right about something if I've taken the time to think about it and actually make a statement about it, I am more than happy to change my mind. I like adapting and evolving and changing every day. Usually all that stuff stays on the inside, though.

Listen to any political interview show or watch any attack ad during an election year and I'm sure you'll hear the word waffling. Look at the current political situation and pick a politician - any politician. They hold fast to things they've said even when it's painfully obvious to everyone they're wrong. They repeat themselves and don't dare to change an opinion on anything. Or if they DO amend their opinion based on factual evidence, suddenly that's a bad thing and their opponents accuse them of waffling. I don't know about you, but I would love my state and federal leaders to be a little more flexible and to be able to admit when they have adjusted their views and ideas based on new things they've learned and experienced. That's the logical thing to do, really. But it seems we've tossed logic out the window in favor of clinging to what we believe without questioning why we believe it and ridiculing those who would dare to change themselves for the better.

Show me a person who has never altered one tiny thing about the way they think or believe and I'll show you a person clinging to an illusion. And they're probably miserable to boot.


When I went to college, I had some great experiences in terms of thoughtful discussion and debate. There were a lot of people I could talk to and listen to and learn from. We didn't always agree, but we were always able to be respectful and learn from each other. Sometimes opinions were changed, sometimes not. Sometimes the most wonderful thing was the moment when someone said "I don't agree with that, but I see where you're coming from." One professor, Dr. Cashdollar, said some of the most important words I've ever heard during a unit that took a historical look at religion. He said that we didn't have to believe the religions we looked at, but we should strive to find a way that we could believe they were believable. I think the same thing holds true for any serious debate.

My hope is that I can kick this case of the whys and stop worrying about being accused of waffling. I'd love to share my thoughts about social issues with you and to hear yours in return. Discussion is good. Learning is good. I won't hesitate to admit when I'm wrong or when something I previously believed no longer makes sense in light of new experiences. That's not waffling. That's growth. I can't promise you'll change my mind, and yours probably won't change just based on what I say. But in order to foster sincere discussion, maintain respect, find common ground, and lay the foundation for growth, all I ask is that you try to look at anything I say and see how it might be believable. I'll do the same. And maybe we'll both change for the better.

Believe that it's believable.

Go Ahead -- Call Me Selfish

SELFISH

*gasp* Oh, the horror!

What a terrible thing for someone to call you, right? There are times when I feel I care a little too much about other people, so for someone to accuse me of the exact opposite would hurt, for sure.

Have you noticed how selfish has become a really vile insult to toss at people? Or is that just my own perception of the word clouding my judgment? As a childfree woman, I've read plenty of articles about how women who choose not to procreate are obviously selfish (and maybe a bit immature). But that's a whole 'nother post. I've also noticed that selfish is an accusation lobbed at my generation quite often, especially when it comes to the workplace. Matt Bors summed it up brilliantly in this comic strip.

As much as I try not to worry about how others perceive me, I often do, and the selfish stigma is something I've worried about on more than one occasion. Most often regarding my career path(s). First, a little background.

I've been in retail since I graduated college. I've worked at several different places, in a wide variety of positions. A few of my job changes have come about as a result of relocation and company closures. One (soon to be two) came about because I became terribly unhappy with where I was and what I was doing, even though I loved the people I worked with. I even loved certain aspects of those jobs, at certain times. Yet with every job so far, I keep growing discouraged after a while. My husband has been working for the same company since we moved after college, and he sees himself there indefinitely. Why hadn't I found the same satisfaction?  Am I selfish? Am I lazy? I know it's called "work" for a reason, but is this all there is? What's wrong with me?

Well, screw that. It's time to set the record straight:

Selfish ≠ narcissistic.
Selfish ≠ entitled.

Can we stop using selfish as a vile insult, meant to shame and bully others into conforming to our preferred life script? I'm not saying all-selfish, all the time is anything we should aspire to. But let's face it - we make decisions every day, every month, every year that are inherently self-serving. Splurging on those new shoes or a new car, deciding to have a baby, deciding not to have a baby, moving across the country for a job opportunity, taking a vacation overseas. None of these things hurt anyone else, but we also don't choose to do them solely for anyone else's benefit, for the most part. There are, in fact, times when we should be making decisions based on how the outcome will affect us, and only us. No one will fault us for that.

Until it runs contrary to what they think we ought to be doing.

In just a few days, I'll be quitting my job. My full-time job that I'm good at, where people like me, and that I was crazy excited to start only a year ago. I don't have anything 100% solid lined up for after I leave, and we really can't afford for me to make much less than I do right now, but I know I have to get out. NOW. I'm underpaid and overworked, and the advancement opportunities at my company don't thrill me. I know this is where quite a few people older than me might be tempted to throw out the dreaded s-word. Selfish because they don't think I'm willing to "pay my dues." Selfish because the consequences could be pretty bad for my husband and I if I don't find something else that pays enough to help cover our bills, and I'm quitting my job anyway. Selfish because I have the gall to say "I'm worth more than this."

Maybe I am selfish, but I have to be right now. My mental health and happiness is my responsibility, and I can't keep putting those things on the back burner in favor of being a "real" adult following someone else's life script.

Yes, I am worth so much more than I'm getting from my company. That's not entitlement or narcissism speaking, that's experience. I have paid my dues over and over again being corporate retail's bitch for the past eight years. I know when I'm underpaid. I've long been a fan of creating change from within, playing by the rules you dislike until you're in a position to advocate for change and win. Sometimes it works brilliantly. Sometimes, though, you have to be a little selfish and make your own damn rules.

I'm thrilled to be leaving the retail world behind. It may sink its teeth into me and pull me back in temporarily in the future, but I'm determined to stay away. I still love clothes, and I love merchandising and making things look fabulous, so I'll be looking into other creative career options that let me use those skills. Until I find it, I'll be calling on my other creative skills to work on my next book(s), provide freelance transcription and copyediting services, and any other odd writing jobs that come my way. The financial uncertainty is scary as hell, don't get me wrong. But I know I will ultimately be happier and healthier.

I've lost too many people in my life in the past few years, met too many people who hate their jobs well into their 50s and beyond, and watched too many other people find their own bliss to let the fear of being called selfish stop me any more. Work doesn't have to be something you hate. Life is too damn short to be miserable.

So go ahead - call me selfish. Why aren't you being selfish, too?