Exit Stage Left

I’ve recently decided to part ways with a job that I’ve held onto for many years, but wasn’t a passion of mine. I’ve been feeling stifled by the job because it’s not my dream job, it’s not something I planned on doing for as long as I did.

I don’t want to sound ungrateful because it was something I needed. Obviously, there are bills to be paid and rent as well as other home and personal items, but I’m feeling like right now, in this place and time I want a career. I should’ve thought of this years ago but having my son made me feel like I’m not living up to my full potential in this life and I should be doing FAR better than I am. I want to inspire my son to progress as much as he possibly can in life, so in order to do that, I decided to take the drastic step of quitting this long-term love/hate affair I’ve been having with said previous job and venture into the world of fashion. And retail.

I hear horror stories about doing retail and how heinous customers can be, but I have been in the food industry for far too long and know that I much prefer the world of retail than food. Most certainly! I often equate my last job to a horrible relationship that you just keep going back to when you know you should just end it once and for all. I was miserable because I wasn’t into it. I never really was because the people you give your service to are often rude, have some weird sense of entitlement, and talk down to you. Or maybe that’s just what I took away from that whole experience, but I’m saying my truth, from my experience working there. I didn’t enjoy it although I did have the occasional customers who were sweet as all get out and were always thanking you for the service you extended. I would go above and beyond for those lucky few who came through the door and actually greeted me back when I greeted them. I was grateful for them because they gave me hope that not all the customers were demanding, OCD-ish customers with bad attitudes but assumed you were the one with the attitude because they were plainly self-projecting. I often felt like if you’re having a bad day, there’s no need to take it out on an innocent. No need to go and spread the loathing jam all around. Keep your hatred and misery to yourself, I don’t want it but more often than not, they ventured into our establishment and spit out their disdain for happiness all out in the open. Even when you tried to joke with them a little, they’d take it the wrong way and would make sure you knew they didn’t like it. So it brought me no joy whatsoever being there. I longed to be around clothing, people who appreciated the same thing as me.

I’ve been into fashion since I was young but I didn’t really understand it because I was just having fun. To me, it was just something I did for fun and it made me happy. I use to draw clothing, shoes, and bags but it was all in childish play. I didn’t think, ‘oh, I’m going to be a little fashionista one day, I can hardly wait!’ I was just having fun with it and passing time. I often did this to escape the reality that my family was homeless and we kept hopping from one shelter to the next. It wasn’t lost on me that we didn’t have a permanent home, I just chose to not acknowledge it as a young girl because my mom often kept us busy. I noticed it whether she knew it or not. I just got lost in the world of clothes and let that be my go-to home when I felt uncomfortable.Yet, as I got older, and we finally found a more solid home as my mother grew up (being a young mother wasn’t easy for her I’m sure), I started drawing less and less. I even started writing less in the diary which I had done religiously since I was 12 years old! I let all of my creativity fall by the way side and into a sinking black abyss. I was losing pieces of me at a time.

Once I graduated high school, it was either off to college or get a job. I chose to go to college but I wasn’t even remotely clear what my major would be. I just knew I wanted to go to college. It was a mistake because I didn’t seek an education counselor who could’ve helped me figure out what I wanted my major to be, and I ended up picking classes that were very irrelevant. I ended up doing pretty bad in two out of the three classes I chose. My mom fell on hard times so it was off to find a job and work full time and I’ve been working full time since I was 19 years old. I did this until at 23, I was with a long-term boyfriend and we were living together. I found out I was pregnant a year and half into our relationship and made the decision to continue the pregnancy. In hindsight, it was probably the best and hardest decision I ever made. Once my son came into the world, I knew I had to do better in making life choices. I knew it was no longer about staying out with gal pals at bars and clubs, shopping instead of making wiser decisions where my money was concerned, and holding off on my education. I decided to go back to school and get a degree, I just didn’t know what. I knew I wanted it to be something I could actually use and could work with in many fields of my interest. I wanted a career.

So far, I’ve been on and off with my education as my son’s schedule has changed as have my own. I have shamed myself for it many times and I want to go back a final time and follow through all the way. I want my degree and I want to build a real career that is rewarding and involves something I love and desire deeply. I know fashion is my true calling and a great outlet for my creativity. I am inspired everyday I see something great come across my FB page and through other online social networks and real world events. I know it’s plausible, I’m just having a hard time, but I know that anything worth truly having is not so easily obtained. Any time I feel like giving up or whenever I feel like a failure, I just look at my son’s little smile and know that I have to keep pushing forward. I have to keep going. I can’t let anything or anyone stop me. Not even myself.