Chances to start fresh don’t come along very often.
We sign up for cable/satellite/cell phone/cool-stuff-in-a-box-that-gets-delivered-monthly service. And, even though we don’t get the love, comfort and reassurance we were certain we would from Storage Wars/Instagram/Barkbox (how is that a thing?), we’re seemingly stuck in this soul-sucking relationship forever. It’s like a boyfriend we’ve grown comfortable with; we just stick it out, because, you know, it could be worse, right?
Maybe it’s a food thing. Like, we eat spaghetti for dinner every Friday night. Because we’ve done it ever since mom declared Friday night Spaghetti Night (“Spaghetti Night: Coming to theaters near you! A tale of love and longing on a plate!”) when we were kids. We can’t possibly change that up. Our stomachs would surely retaliate. Or, hey, how about the gym. You know, the place that perpetually smells like sweaty socks and makes us feel like crying in our water bottles because we’re not thin enough, muscular enough, rich enough, cool enough? But yeah, we keep going. Because, hey, maybe one day, bro.
And yet, despite the comfort of spaghetti and exorbitantly-priced cable, sometimes – once in a while – we have to change the routine. We have to make the choice to reach for something bigger, better. (And hasn’t all that exercise at the gym prepared us fabulously for said reach?)
Every time I’ve ever tried something new or opened a door to a new possibility, I’ve been rewarded. Inevitably at first I have to deal with feelings of queasiness like I’ve just downed a bad Mickey D’s meal (is there such thing as a good one?). I have to face down enough feelings of self-doubt to give any lovesick, swooning teenage girl a run for her money. I have to convince my routine-loving, change-wary self that sometimes, sometimes change is good. (Pizza on Fridays? Why, that sounds delicious and equally marinara-y.)
I’ve left the job I’ve held for the last two years in PR, and I’m returning to my first love: editorial. And I can’t wait to embrace this shiny new change with all my might. I might have to have something covered in marinara to celebrate.