I've quit my jobby job. It sounds way less scary when I call it a jobby job right? So I do. What I mean is, my part time but almost full time day job that helps pay the bills when my travel business does not. I have my reasons but let's suffice it to say "it was time." My last day is Thursday.
At the same time, I've decided to sign up for yoga teacher training. I have been practicing yoga for about 12 years now, and I think I'm finally ready. It's a big time (and financial) commitment, but it should be - you're dealing with people's bodies and minds, after all. It doesn't start until the fall, which is a good thing. Change and I aren't always fast friends, and too much of once would probably not be good for my mental health. But I put in the application on the day that I saw teacher training posted on the website, to hold myself accountable. I've started the process. It makes it a lot tougher to bow out or make excuses.
So my emotions over the past couple of weeks have run the gambit of "this is an exciting adventure!" to "holy crap how will I pay the bills?" and everything in between. But I've been here before, more or less. With help and support and therapy and meds, I made it through, sometimes significantly more gracefully than others. Still, at the time I was 26 and full of big dreams about how I was going to be a big success. Now I'm 38 and more along the lines of "someday I'll get my shit together, I'm sure". But my parents and husband and friends support my decision, which helps - especially since, obviously, any monetary decision also affects my household aka my husband (and our dog I suppose, but she hasn't given the paws up or paws down on this decision so far).
In the end, the person that most has to believe in me is myself. Which sounds all Hallmark cardy, but is honestly an age-old battle I have with myself. I am, most of the time, my own worst critic. I take failures personally. I could have done better, I should have done this, I shouldn't have done that. I analyze over and over where I went wrong. I blame myself for.... just about everything. If someone doesn't hire me, I'm not good enough. If someone doesn't support my cause, I'm doing something wrong. If something isn't downright perfect, it's all my fault. I'm not trying hard enough, I'm not good enough, I'm a failure, I'm lazy, and everything else in between. In fact, not a single one of these is true, but I just can't let myself off the hook. It feels irresponsible to place blame elsewhere, or nowhere at all. It feels like taking the easy way out, like being in denial, conceited, even narcissistic at times. I'm the common denominator after all. And yet, thinking it's all my fault is also not right. Because quite honestly, everything isn't about me. A lot isn't, in fact. It's maybe about someone else, or nobody at all. There should be a middle ground.
My grandma used to have a saying that's been coming back to me often these last couple of weeks. "Pray to God and Work like the Devil." While I'm not particularly religious, I think the saying has merit, regardless of your religious affiliation or lack thereof. Basically, all you can do is work your butt off and hope for the best. And it's what I plan to do going forward. There may be times when giving it my all still isn't quite enough. But at least I'll know I did everything I could do.