And in my first full-time job, at once I found fulfillment and financial independence. I found I was good at my work, that my colleagues and superiors appreciated me, that I enjoyed what I did. I seemed to earn just enough to make ends meet – but hey, I lived alone, I earned for myself! It was like I had finally entered the grown-up world, and was thoroughly enjoying it.
At the same time, my personal life wasn’t that great. I seemed to have made a mess of my life and wasn’t sure if I could extricate myself from it. But when I went to work, I left all that behind and became a competent professional. My job was my refuge.
It helped of course, that I had some great colleagues. My first boss, who is the person I’ve admired most professionally, and who I’m still friends with. Another young woman who’d joined a year before me and from whom I learned a lot. Another guy who I worked with (rather, who was my project manager), and who I’m also still friends with. All extremely competent and professional people, whom I learnt so much from.
So - unlike many other people - I loved working. I was scornful of people who complained about having to work, who looked back yearningly at college days. “I am much happier now,” I used to say. “I don’t work as hard as I did in b-school and I actually get paid for it.”
Since then, I have had some difficult times at work. On the other hand, I have the Guy, and my personal life has been stable and very happy for the last three years. I am in my third job now, and most of the time, I love what I do. I love that I can use my love of writing in my work. It was something I had hoped for, but hadn't thought I would achieve.
There is a long way to go yet, a lot to do. The way ahead seems misty often and I am not sure which way to turn. But it's always been like that, and that is part of the adventure.