Tessa: About 3 years ago I quit my job in publishing. I had worked at this company for about 10 years and had hit middle management hell. I had a job, an expense account, travelled alot, a group of people who reported to me and work that was fairly interesting. Why was it then that I had chronic back pain, bags under my eyes, head pain, drank like a maniac, was dating a loser, was constantly tired and cranky and my generally bright outlook on life had turned to chronic, bitter cynicism.
I didn't really know the fire had gotten so hot until I started doing things like forgetting my laptop on business trips, leaving the country with no change of clothes, forgetting when I was supposed to come home, forgetting when I was supposed to leave, when I was supposed to be in a meeting, forgetting to breathe. I didn't realize how hard the pot was boiling by the time I stopped forgetting things and started adopting things instead. First it was the cat. Then the dog. Then I wanted kids. Then I just wanted things. Shoes, hair, jackets, pants, parties, food. You name it. I wanted to surround myself with people, things and stuff. Any stuff.
Around this time, when I would regularly find myself lying about in all of my things, in a post-martini hangover, usually feeling very sorry for myself, a friend of mine gave me a copy of The Artist's Way. I remember looking at it and then immediately shelving it thinking it was fluff. But one day when I was in particularly rough shape this same friend ordered me to go to my room, pick up the book, read it and do the exercises. Desperation drove me to it but I did finish the book. Although I learned a lot of things, the one thing that had never occurred to me was that my job was starving me creatively. I didn't have any outlet for my creativity. I was so busy supporting other people's creativity I never had time for my own.
What the book showed me was that I could take control of my life by taking risks not avoiding them.
About six months after finishing the The Artist's Way I quit my job [and I met Dave but that's another story!]. But the truth of it was I hated my job. I kept thinking of all the reasons why I should love it but it mainly had to do with the fact that it looked good on paper. Hell, it even sounded good. But I had no idea how I got there and when I got there I had no idea how I stayed there. I liked the people. Well, not really and especially not my boss after she started sleeping with another girl down the way (not that there's anything wrong with that) or the guy that forgot his meds and would whisper expletives in your ear as you walked past the photocopier. Although the constant round of socializing that drives the publishing calendar all year long seems exciting at first, after a few years and several thousands of bottles of wine and vodka later it all gets a bit blurry and unmemorable. I hated the small talk and I hated going over the endless list of books that had to be promoted that probably shouldn't have been published to begin with.
When I quit I thought there would be drama and tearful goodbyes. Afterall, it had been ten years. But there was none of that. They were as tired of me as I was of them. When I left I had no idea how I was going to make a living. I had a dog and a cat, the sperm bank wasn't working out so hot (THANK GOD) and I hoped and prayed the Latin restaurant down the road would hire me as a waitress. They didn't.
For the first 6 months I was exhausted and I slept all the time. I watched Oprah, read People and started working with a friend who had also quit at the same time. Our idea of growing a business was to have lunch at my house, watch more Oprah and discuss whether we should or should not answer the phone when the business line rang. It was bliss. Everyday I would wake up in my pajamas, walk the dog in my pajamas, 'work' in my pajamas and greet Dave in my pajamas. He would come home, point at the big knot in the back of my head and say 'you go out like that?' Yes, I did. Eventually I just cut the big knot off the back of my head.
I'm not going to say I'm some creative genious these days because you can beat the genius right out of yourself. But I'm trying. Dave has joined me in the creative revolution. Reuben, Olive and I are just waiting for him to flee his Podzilla. For now we're starting with small things like playing Kerplunk and twister, I chase him around the house then he chases me. We made a collage on my birthday and are planning on having a gingerbread making contest/martini party. Oh and then there's blogging...the most creative fun of all.
When I quit I thought there would be drama and tearful goodbyes. Afterall, it had been ten years. But there was none of that. They were as tired of me as I was of them. When I left I had no idea how I was going to make a living. I had a dog and a cat, the sperm bank wasn't working out so hot (THANK GOD) and I hoped and prayed the Latin restaurant down the road would hire me as a waitress. They didn't.
For the first 6 months I was exhausted and I slept all the time. I watched Oprah, read People and started working with a friend who had also quit at the same time. Our idea of growing a business was to have lunch at my house, watch more Oprah and discuss whether we should or should not answer the phone when the business line rang. It was bliss. Everyday I would wake up in my pajamas, walk the dog in my pajamas, 'work' in my pajamas and greet Dave in my pajamas. He would come home, point at the big knot in the back of my head and say 'you go out like that?' Yes, I did. Eventually I just cut the big knot off the back of my head.
I'm not going to say I'm some creative genious these days because you can beat the genius right out of yourself. But I'm trying. Dave has joined me in the creative revolution. Reuben, Olive and I are just waiting for him to flee his Podzilla. For now we're starting with small things like playing Kerplunk and twister, I chase him around the house then he chases me. We made a collage on my birthday and are planning on having a gingerbread making contest/martini party. Oh and then there's blogging...the most creative fun of all.
No comments:
Post a Comment