I got a preliminary job offer this morning, and it’s set forth a whirlwind of voices in my head, speaking with and at each other. Now everything I experience today relates to this giant glaring job offer that took residence in my mind and won’t leave until I make a decision. The voices say things like this:
The sun is out! “If I start work, I’ll miss these sunny days.” I have to return two library books. “If I start work, I won’t be able to return library books anytime I want.” This book is so good. “If I start work, when will I have time to read?” This egg sandwich is so good. “If I start work, I’ll be eating crappy nutri-grain bars on the run.” And so on.
I’m not letting myself enjoy just being flattered by this experience. When I stop to think about the good….well, it’s really good. It’s a great job for a great company. It’s working in a field I have been interested in since I was born, practically. If they posted this job on craigslist, they’d get 80 – 100 applications instantly.
It’s not software. (thank god) It’s not even hardware. Then the voices argue back. “It’s also not an amazing Inn in San Francisco and it’s not owning your own photography studio either.” It’s not Scarlet.
Scarlet has been my constant for eight months now. Eight long good months. Yet when I really stop to think about this, when you factor in that she sleeps in until 9 or 10 and that she takes a late morning nap, I’d really only be missing maybe two hours with her a day. Two hours that I need! Two hours of nice space that will not break our bond at all. And yet I look at her lopsided grin and deep soulful eyes. “Will I miss even a second of her growth and development? It’s been a good run so far. Such a good run.”
Then I’m in the shower, letting the benefits of having a job run over me. Contributing financially to my family, my future, my long lost shoe obsession. Using my brain. Getting out in the world. Re-entering a career field I never should have given up and I’ll never tire of. Trying new things. A small but powerful voice repeats in my head. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.” Confidence issues! Hello, old friend. No. Not this time. I’m different now. “I can do this.”
And it might be great. But, I’ll miss this.