I’ve been fantasizing lately about walking away from my seven-year-old career. I say it as though it’s an era, when it’s not. Seven years is a laughable timeframe when compared to so many of my co-workers, one in particular who has not only been a journalist for 30-plus years, but has worked at the same company for that long. This fact makes me feel as though I’ll never be accomplished.
I’ve worked for my current employer for a year and eight months, and I’m getting antsy, restless.
I’m bored. I feel invisible. What should I do? What if i quit? What would I do next? Am I capable of anything but this? Nobody likes me; everybody hates me. I guess I’ll eat some worms.
The thoughts consume me, and then I begin to pout.
My good friend told me the other day that if I decide on another career path, self-adjustment will be necessary.
It’s hard for journalists, she said, to not let their job dictate their identity.
So, that’s the challenge.