...Never Be Satisfied

Preach it, Miranda!

While driving my kids today listening to them sing parts of "Hamilton" and being so damned proud, I thought more personally on the concept of the character of Hamilton never being satisfied. He came so far from so low, and his wife tried to make him see that he had done enough even before Secretary of Treasury. To him however, it wasn't enough. No matter what he achieved, no matter how high he climbed, "He would never be satisfied."

For some reason, that resonated with me more personally on that drive. Wasn't I kind of the same way? Sure, Hell, I'm not any Alexander Hamilton. But I'm never satisfied. No matter where I got, I never reveled in that for long. It was always, "This is great! What's next?" Sure as anything can be a tiring trait, and quite often one that leads to disappointment and frustration, but I never could do "just enough."

In the job that I left for the one I have now (hinted on the kind of conditions I left, won't name names), I think that was what got me boiling the most. Being told I was "cruising." Nothing, I mean NOTHING, about my work was cruising; the insinuation of it was insulting. The worst part is, they had me believing it. Even now almost two years after leaving, I am just now almost fully free of the immeasurable self doubt and pitiable self image they instilled.

Let me give you a glimpse here. For most of my twelve years (yes, twelve freaking years) I worked around 43 hours (and that was after breaks) on an average week. Sometimes more, very seldom less. I worked holidays, I worked shifts I didn't want, and I missed out on so much. God, so much ... things I missed that I'll never get to experience. Things I could have had that were lost forever. Work/life balance didn't exist. My work was my life. I worked through Endometriosis pain, stroke like symptoms caused by the stress, and almost an entire second half of pregnancy filled with constant labor contractions due to the fall their work conditions caused.

And I was never enough for them.

But the fact that they had me believing it and hating myself, that's the part I can never forgive. That was the part that finally got me to leave.

Well, that and my therapist said that the stress was in fact killing me, and I could very well die there. Small detail.

Wow, that got...uh...heavy. I hate thinking of that; that's not who I am or where I am anymore. On to a better place. Ok, no workplace is perfect. I'll bet even the King of Candy Mountain hates his day job sometimes. But in all honesty, I love what I do now. I help people, and I am with a company that INSISTS on a work/life balance. I got out of the graveyard shift and actually have a life with my family. I get to see my babies. I get to have a relationship with my husband again. Holy crap, is that allowed?! They even gave me a clean, private room to pump while I breastfed. Before I had to go into the abandoned room where they kept mouse traps, storage, and sometimes employee traffic for my place to privately plunger my -

Anyway, I digress. The first thing I did when I was in training was hear about a position within all teams that are kind of an unofficial step up. That was mine; I told myself I would not settle for less, and I ended up getting it. Company policy usually stated that no one moves up or transfers without at least a year in the company - I was allowed to interview for a Team Lead after nine months. I may not have gotten it, but I made an impression. So I learn, I absorb, and I move forward. It's only a matter of time.

Then Covid hit.

The Team Lead position was completely dissolved within the company. Entire teams were turned completely upside down, and the world was over while a new one took its place. Everything I planned for since starting the job, the preparation and research into the company policies and dynamics, all of it gone. It hit hard. And I felt sorry for those who were already Team Leads that were forced to accept pretty drastic alternatives, but when the road forward is swept away from you, where the Hell do you stand? And where is forward?

So you know what? To Hell with the Road! I'll make my own road! I'll define forward for myself. No way to grow right now in the job? I'll make my own side career to grow in. I'll take up writing again because I can. I may not be able to see the road ahead, but I know the one that travels it, and despite how I felt about her before...she kind of kicks ass!

So I dared to imagine an idea. Then I let myself keep the idea and define details. Then I let myself write a chapter. Next I allowed the story to grow and live and shine until it was completed.

When that story was completed, I didn't know what to do. I felt like the times I was at Elephant Butte lake with my cousins who I respected (and secretly always wanted to impress) as I stood on a high cliff preparing to jump into the water. I know the "jump off a cliff" trope is cliche as Hell, but I've jumped off cliffs and know personally that it's freaking terrifying. I can say with personal certainty that the feeling is exactly the same. Exactly. So take any judgment you might have on that metaphor and shove it kindly.

So do I dare?

How the Hell can I not?!

And do I stop at publishing and just take what I can? No! I'll learn networking, learn Photoshop to improve book art and blogs, make a website, and actually spend money on freaking advertisement! Dear God, who even am I?

I am me. And I will never be satisfied.

If you like this mindset, if this spoke to you, check out this book. It will light a fire under you! ... in a good way.