I don’t want to die in a cubicle

The following ramble you’re about to read (if you have the willpower) doesn’t have much to do with recovery so I apologize.  But I want to get it off my chest so I don’t waste too much of my time dwelling on it.  And please, if you have any thoughts you’d like to share, I’m all ears!

This week I was given the opportunity to apply for a full-time job at the company my dad works at.  If I had been offered a job, I would’ve been working 10 hours a day 5 days a week to talk on the phone with cranky customers who posses little to no brain cells.  I’d also be paying for gas and insurance for a car that I don’t yet have to drive to a job that is an hour away…

Basically, I’d be paid a lot of money and spending a lot of money at the expense of my soul.

I passed it up.

Now my dad is pissed off and I feel like shit.

But then my mom reminded me how furious he was when my sister started studying Arabic at Tufts.  He thought it was the most pointless endeavor and had no future whatsoever.  Since then she has been accepted into some of the best intensive language study programs, traveled the world, lived in Egypt for a summer, and before she even graduated, was offered a full-time teaching position at a prestigious school in Boston.  Not so worthless anymore, huh Dad?

Also, I’m not keen on taking advice from someone who did nothing with his degree and hates his job.  My dad received a degree in Physical Education, and aside from playing for a community football league when I was a baby, I don’t recall him ever pursuing it.  Instead, he became a computer consultant, and I watched him hate his job throughout my childhood and now continuing into adulthood.  He will probably hate his job until he retires.  I refuse to make that mistake.  I cannot sacrifice my happiness and sanity for a paycheck.  And trust me, I am not so naive to think that I will never have a job that I hate.  It has happened before and it will happen again.  But I have worked in a cubicle before and it took all the strength left in me not to throw myself out of the 18th floor window every day.  I know there are college bills to pay, and I fully intend to get a job come September.  I’ve already started the hunt and am applying.

I want something that will allow me to have some freedom to pursue other endeavors.  A part of me feels really guilty and selfish for not working this summer.  But the other part of me believes it was the best decision I could have made.  I needed time to recharge.  This last semester sucked.  A lot of great things came out of it, but by the time I graduated, I was in such a terrible headspace.  It’s been nearly three months since I graduated and in that time, I’ve changed my lifestyle considerably and I have a better sense of who I am.  Physically and mentally, I feel the best ever have.

I want to build a life my way because, after all, it is my life.  Maybe I am making a huge mistake.  Maybe I’ll crash and burn.  But I’d rather that than not try at all.  After five years struggling with depression and an eating disorder, I know how my mind works.  I know what is good for me and what will potentially derail me.  A full-time, corporate job would be the kiss of death.

I love my dad.  I know he just wants the best for me and to live a long and happy life.  But it pisses me off to the point of tears that after 23 years, especially in the last five, he still won’t accept that I am not someone who treads a traditional straight and narrow path.  I will never be that girl who after graduating from college immediately gets a corporate job, gets married, and settles down with a family.  It’s not going to happen.  With me or my sister.

Get over it.

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