It's been ages since my last post. Which come to think of it, isn't exactly 'normal' considering the fact that I'm usually very expressive and always verbalizing even the most infinitesimal thoughts that cross my mind.
I guess it's just a matter of not knowing how to put my thoughts into words this time. Or maybe it's knowing how to, but not feeling like it, because of the nagging thought that the only thing to come out of me expressing how I feel, is being judged and criticised. Or feeling that no matter what or how much I say, most people don't understand me anyway.
I'm upset with work. I just know this isn't the right place for me. I guess the worst feeling in the world is to remain in a certain place or situation when we know deep inside that it's not right for us.
How did I get here? I thought I was happy, I thought I was in control. I thought if I did what was right, I'd have peace of mind. But yet I wake up in the morning dreading having to go to the office because I'm so unhappy. The IT industry, the life of a corporate slave, the cubicle-bound 8-to-5 deskjob faced with computers daily and the late-night conference calls, the never-ending demands and expectations. Some people thrive in such situations, but this life is not for me. All this does for me is to make me increasingly miserable by the day.
I don't belong here.
I used to think that when it comes to a job, money was (almost, if not) everything. When I first graduated, I thought to myself that I'd climb the corporate ladder, work tirelessly 'round the clock and someday get to the point where life revolved around 3-piece suits, a huge house I'll probably never get to spend any time in because I'd have to pull overnighters in the office, and a paycheck fat enough to pay for multiple Ferraris by cash.
I used to say that happiness didn't mean nuts if I didn't have oodles of cash. I couldn't be more wrong.
I used to scoff and never believed when people told me that priorities would change as time passes. And the fact is, the old adage was true.
Today there's not much I wouldn't give for happiness and contentment. Doing a job that may not be super-glam but knowing that it gives me fulfillment and that it's the right job for me. Being able to have time-off for myself, and to spend with the people I love. Being able to go off on a holiday with family, and not have to lug along my notebook or a Blackberry. Having the freedom to crash early at night, without the 12am conference calls, or the paranoia of my cell ringing at 2am with an issue from work that may keep me awake till dawn. Not having to drag myself to a job that makes me nothing but unhappy.
Being able to do what I love.
And in the end I guess that's what matters. Knowing that we spend our lives doing what we love, and what we're meant to do. Doing something that at the end of the day, puts a smile on our faces and give us that inner peace and contentment that no paycheck can buy. Having a job that doesn't make you cry yourself to sleep every night, or dread waking up in the morning. Having a job that pays for the stuff you need in life, and not one that robs you of your life. And that's one thing I'm working towards right now.
Because I owe it to myself to be happy.
I'm glad that today, despite my designer-obsession and my love for fast cars, crazy electric guitars and concert grand pianos, I can say from my heart: Oodles of cash mean nothing to me if I didn't have happiness.
I read this phrase somewhere this morning, and it definitely jolted me: "Life is simply too short to spend it doing things that make you unhappy." Now that's a reality-check I wouldn't mind having, over and over again.
