I am still here, though I seem to be mostly silent on this blog these days. There are only so many hours in a day, and it seems that most of those hours get eaten up pretty quickly with laundry, grocery shopping, going to (and worrying about) work, driving kids to soccer games and art classes and play dates, helping my oldest 2 daughters deliver flyers so that they can afford cell phones and funky shoes that their parents won’t buy, trying to catch up on sleep, and once in awhile managing to eek out an interesting post over here.
Mostly I’m okay with the hub-bub of life, but these days, I just feel so very, very weary. Today especially, after spending too many hours on my feet this past weekend delivering flyers, catching up on grocery shopping in the mega-grocery-store-that-has-everything-but-requires-hours-of-pushing-a-cart-through-crowded-aisles, and then a rousing game of soccer in which Julie’s team played (and were beat by) their parents, I am feeling every one of the 43 years of this body’s age. My gosh – we just don’t spring back like we used to, do we?
I’m not quite sure what to report today. I’ve started to write this post a few times, but instead of the upbeat list of fun things going on in my life, my writing very quickly seems to spiral into a vortex of fears, challenges, complaints, and stresses that I’m dealing with at my day job these days. I can’t go there, for obvious reasons, so maybe I’ll just say this… I am burnt out. I need a break. I need to not be anybody’s boss for awhile.
Part of me desperately wants to “leap and trust that the net will appear” – just hand in my notice (I have to give 3 months, since I’m a director and it’s in my contract) and hope and pray that within 3 months (or probably longer as there are things going on I feel somewhat obligated to wrap up) I’ll be able to build enough of a freelance/consulting business to sustain our family. But there’s that practical side of me that wants to cry every time I go grocery shopping or the girls come home with yet another soccer fee, band fee, lunch fee, worn out sneakers… you name it.
(If you’re worried that I’m taking a risk by putting this on my blog, let me allay your fears by telling you that I’ve already warned my boss that I don’t intend to be in this position a year from now. It’s not really a secret that I have other ambitions and that I’m burnt out.)
If you are given to prayer, feel free to join those who have already wrapped their prayers around me and my family. I need some clarity, I need some focus, and I need a way out of this place I’m in. Mostly, I need to know whether I am wise or foolish to follow my passion into the land of the self-employed. (And if you're in the position to offer me contracts for writing/public speaking/workshop facilitation/communications planning, or offer my husband a teaching job, we could sure use that too!)
It seems to me that handing in my notice and making the leap would be the perfect way to wrap up this year of living more fearlessly. What do you think?