Six Years: How I Quit my first job

After doing all of my sight seeing, completing my 2011 summer wedding duties, and tried to keep myself together after the end of Harry Potter, I left my job.

I began a job in August of 2005 with the intention of just staying until I found something better.


I  can remember applying for a job in September 2005 at Rhodes College as an Admissions Coordinator, and never heard from then about if I got it or not—I was 23 going on 24 and had weekly “WHAT AM I GOING TO DO WITH MY LIFE?” attacks and crying sessions whatever friend would listen. In the spring of 2006,  I was asked “Want this job?” Well…yeah. Not much else to do and I like having a salary. So, for the next five years, I shaped the role of my position-one part service technician, one part administrative assistant, one part instructional designer, and one part teacher of all ages of children. That fall, I also took on the role of classroom teacher to two sections of freshman girls(the highschool is all girls…which is also my alma mater) which entailed vocabulary, computer applications, study skills, and this program called AlchoholEdu, AND my job as the laptop services coordinator. It was a lot on a plate. Two sections out of the office, then hurrying back to do your regular job will leave a person’s head spinning(or maybe just mine). I’ve never had teaching experience before then, and the Dean of the Upper School, along with a few other administrators had a lot of faith and trust in me. I fumbled all the time, and somehow got through the year with that hat on my head, and a lot of stress on my shoulders. I grew up a lot that year, and I definitely look back with life lessons.

I digress.

As the school years went on, we got a new building built, I moved into my first two apartments, and I began to like my job. There was one school year where I did dread to come to work every day-we had really bad Apple iBooks and every day there were at least 20-30 computers throughout my day with problems, teachers constantly needing me and my co workers, and I never could stay above water. I think this is what drove me into depression, and I had to talk to a therapist. ADHD medicine was prescribed, and I barely got by.  Problems from childhood, with my parents, with my self esteem, and overall outlook in life poured out of me at these sessions, and it was just a crap year. Somehow, I got through it. I am still putting pieces of me back together even today.
Last summer, I was in a wedding in Minneapolis when the urge of doing something “else” starting poking at me. At this point, I was 27 going on 28, and many, MANY friends were getting married or starting families, (and before you all say “that’s ok! it’s just not your time yet!” I know that. I do.) My friend Anna was very encouraging about applying to a school in Paris, France, and to a school in Vermont.

All of my friends were encouraging, which helped. I was very hesitant to share with people my ideas because I felt like the outsider-everyone seemed to be getting their proverbial shit together-house, job, spouse, kid.  I still love the apartment life and going to movies by myself, and not dating. At all.  Which is a whole other story.
So, I applied to those schools, and to NYU, and I got accepted to Champlain College, rejected at American University of Paris, and waitlisted at NYU. Alrighty. After months of keeping things quiet at work, I told my boss that we need to talk around Easter time of this year. I was at the tail end of wrapping up my first master’s degree at Appalachian State, and he figured something was going to happen. I was shocked on how well he took that I am leaving and moving to Vermont.  The news was broken to faculty and staff, and summer began. I worked at the school all summer to finish what I had started and trained the new guy.  I ate at Memphis restaurants, drank a lot of ice tea, and hung out with friends.  Drank beer at weddings.  Soaked up the South as much as possible.
I left home August 16th-a week ago tonight. I am somewhat settled into my place in Burlington and have four housemates, one of which hasn’t moved in yet. I’m getting used to not having a car, and walking to places.  My orientation for Champlain College starts this Friday and I can’t wait to get rolling on classes, my fellowship, and having my days planned out. I miss home, but don’t want to miss out on my life. I can finally figure out who I am in life-I have never  left Memphis, sans travel. I stayed for college, went back to my high school for a job, and I worked with my mother. I stayed in a bubble of protection, and at 28, damn it, it’s way overdue.

I know everything happens for a reason. I could have left Memphis at 24 or 25, but I don’t think I was ready or had to gumption to do it. I still don’t have ideas of what my life is going to be, but I look back on it so far with better clues.

So here I am.  Let’s do it.


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