Back to Work!

Well, tomorrow will be my third week at my new job. How am I liking it? Hmm...tough one since I really like the people I work with as well as my new boss. He seems laid back and pretty nice and from what I've noticed so far, he seems to treat his employees very well; he respects their opinions and expertise. I like that. However, I don't like what I'm doing and—here it goes—I don't like being back to work.

There, I admitted it.

These past few weeks have been tough for me. I don't know if it has anything to do with my bipolar disorder, or just that I don't feel it's challenging for me, or both. Either way, with everything that I've been going through, I thought I'd want to dive in and be ready and eager to start this new adventure in my life.

But I'm not.

I'm beyond discouraged and so far, it's not a challenge for me; I don't feel as though this is within my realm of my background and knowledge, and worse, my professional training. Sadly—and I'm embarrassed to admit—I feel it's beneath me. Yes, I realize these are not words I should be expressing, especially considering I have been unemployed for two and half years, so I should be grateful that I found a job so quickly after my unemployment benefits have ended. Right?

Unfortunately, I'm not.

Perhaps I should just suck it up and try and work my tail off and move forward with my life. Right now, our finances are in dire straits so the option of quitting and starting over with an endless job hunt, is not an option at this time. I hate being in this position and I hate that my illness has gotten in the way of my pride. After spending thousands of dollars to what now seems like a worthless college degree, this is what I'm destined to find? An executive assistant? Yes, that is my official title—an executive assistant. I went from being a successful graphic designer to this. As anyone could imagine, it's quite discouraging. 

But don't judge me.

Even though doing graphic design work is about 30% of my job description, as well as very little marketing, but mostly, I am there as an assistant to my boss, the owner, and other managers as well. I work at an arts center, so that part of the job I like. It's new to me, and although I like being involved with something new and something unfamiliar, overall I don't like the job duties.

I feel guilty, I truly do. I've been coming home from work these past few weeks in a depressive slump, only to shoot my family down from daily excitement for my going back into the work force. And for what? An executive assistant job. Even though my husband tells me every single day—as well as my therapist—that this is not the end all job for me, that I have the option of continuing to look for another job in my field while I'm employed. Although I plan on adhering to this advice, I'm disillusioned regardless. 

I feel as though my life has shifted again to this endless abyss of depression. Perhaps it's as simple as feeling sorry for myself, I don't know. Will I ever know the answer to this, or again, is it the reaction of my bipolar disorder? I truly don't know how to answer to what seems, this neverending question in my life.

Let's hope I have an answer soon enough.

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A Dream.

We all have a dream. Something we all yearn to be, to do, in our lives. Sometimes we don't all get the opportunity to live out our aspirations, but it's fun to get away, if only in our minds, as we gaze into our fantasy.

For me, a dream that I've fantasized about for the past 3 years is opening up an art school—an art school for kids. I never thought in a milion years that I would ever want to teach art, especially to children, but after having my daughter, and exposing her to art, colors, painting, et al, since she was 18 months old, I realized that it's something I loved; something I truly enjoyed. And you know what, I was damn good at it, too.

It was at this age that I taught my daughter colors. At this time, she knew her colors and by the time she entered daycare at the age of 2, the instructors were highly impressed by this. I have paintings that she created at 19 months old that are framed and hanging in her room. I love these paintings because nothing gives the impression of brightness through art more than a child's painting. The vibrance and stimulating assemblage of colors pleases me. Seeing all the bright colors gives the viewer such joy, that we don't even realize we're experiencing it.

But I do. I always appreciate and love all the different colors. Bright beautiful rich colors.

I always knew that this would be my goal, but how do I attempt it? How do I start? I have no money and no bank in their right mind would ever grant me a business loan. So how? As my unemployment is nearing its end, I am scared. So scared that as I look at the jobs listed, I get even more depressed. There is nothing in my field, and nothing that even looks like I could qualify for. It's scary out there, and I won't know what to do. The time is soon approaching.

Do I even attempt to research how to obtain this and follow through with my dream, or do I just leave it at that—nothing but a fantasy in my mind and my heart? This is what I need to ask myself, because as I sit here and ponder how I would come up with the money to fulfill this objective, it will just have to remain nothing but a daydream for now. Who knows what will happen, life is funny that way. I may have the means to follow through with this goal, but for now, I don't.

What do I do in the meantime? My heart is yearning to fulfill something meaningful in my life. I want to be able to walk away from all of this, create a therapeutic retreat, if only in my head, and grow; move forward and excel in my life. Haven't I been through enough?

We all work very hard, and in this horrible economy, sometimes people struggle to the point of losing everything. Although that is not happening to us, I look at my husband everyday as he comes home from one of his two jobs exhausted, literally exhausted. My husband works 80 hours/week, and for what? Little to no money only so we can have our bills paid, our rent paid, and food on the table—which doesn't always happen, unfortunately. Barely enough to survive as we live paycheck to paycheck every week. We are not poor, but we are not rich either. Is there such a thing as middle class these days? I don't know.

But I do know this, I will try my hardest to live out my dream, even if it takes me years to attain. 

I have to.

Abstract Finger Painting – Artist, my daughter – 2001

Copy of Keith Haring – Artist, my daughter – 2006

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