REALITY OF WORKING

I sat at the desk looking out the large glass windows toward the street and the shops on the other side. There wasn’t a lot to do, take in payments and answer the phone and neither was busy nor constructive. It was a job in an office and I was doing what the job consisted of. Other than the money I was making I felt as though it was a waste of time. I spent most of my time looking at the clock wishing it was time to go home.

I didn’t have to work. My husband preferred that I stay at home, but that was boring, too. I needed something to do, and something to occupy my time, and this seemed to be it. Or at least it was the only thing I could think of.

At this point in my life I did not have a very good track record. I was still trying to find myself, still trying to decide on a job, and trying to decide what a job was, other than a place to receive a paycheck.

Starting at the age of 16, I had worked in retail sales for two years, worked in the catalog warehouse for a major retail store, and worked in the personnel office at a Federal Agency for a few months. None had been good choices, but they had provided a little experience.

THIS JOB

I had found this job about a mile from where we lived which allowed me to walk in good weather, since we only had one car.

I had not worked for a loan company in the past. I was somewhat familiar since we had to get a loan to buy a car, but I soon learned that working for them would be a pragmatic eyeopener.

I’ve always been good at observing, listening and making mental notes. At this job I needed all these resources. I soon discovered how things worked. My bosses needed collateral that was worth more than the loan amount. It seemed that in the back of their minds their first thought was the possibility of a default on the loan, since the interest rates were high there was a good chance the customer would not be able to make their payments, in a timely fashion. The owners made sure that the collateral was the amount they needed, so that they could repossess the item or items.

When I learned this, I knew that we were paying a higher interest on the car we bought, than if we had spent more time searching for a better and cheaper way. That was disheartening

NOW FOR THE BEST PART

Then a young couple walked in with their child. They spoke at length with the loan officer, as he made notes on a pad of paper. The next step was to hand me the piece of paper with the notes and I was to type the information on a legal contract.

They continued talking to one of the loan officers and they were about ready to sign on the dotted line. The loan officer walked out of the room, to speak with the manager and maybe to give them time to discuss the deal between them. The young couple nervously spoke and argued in an almost inaudible tone. I could tell by watching and hearing as much as I could that they were not sure this was what they wanted, but it was what they needed. They were going to do it.

I walked up to the young couple and told them, don’t do this. Walk away. The interest you are going to pay is very high. They are planning on repossessing the item, because they already have figured out that you won’t be able to make the payments. I chased them away.

Yes, they said, thank you and I was happy to know that I helped someone.

IT WASN’T MY PLACE, OH WELL!

The loan officer had been listening and he ran outside to see if he could catch the couple and bring them back to the office, but it was too late. They were gone.

Needless to say, he was very angry and on the spot he and the manager fired me. And it was a good thing, because otherwise I would have had to quit. I would not want to work in a career or for people that deceived their customers and actually hoped they would fail.

Was I sorry? Absolutely not. I felt the young couple should know the real truth before they made a decision and the loan officer was not telling the whole story.

These loan officers were concealing facts and concealing the way they do business, but it happens all the time and especially to unsuspecting people who are led by their fears. This scene is similar to situations with mortgage companies convincing people that they can afford homes that they can’t and selling them mortgages that ultimately increase interest rates and monthly payments they cannot afford.

FOR A GOOD REASON

I don’t know what happened to the young couple. Hopefully they did more research or maybe realized that saving money to buy something is the most responsible way to make purchases.

I learned to be more careful with my money. If I need to borrow, car loan or mortgage, I make sure that I understand everything, if not I ask questions. It’s reassuring to have the experience and wisdom to make better choices, even if this experience means working at lousy jobs or making mistakes.

EXERCISE

• Are you wondering why you have your job? Is it the paycheck?
• Have you ever watched unscrupulous actions of someone you’re doing business with?
• Have you ever stood up for yourself or someone around you?
• Are you willing to walk away rather than stay in an uncomfortable or dishonest situation? Even if it means giving up your paycheck?

  

AFFAIRS OF THE HEART

I crouched down in the corner behind my bed hoping they wouldn’t see me. Hoping they had forgotten I was there and could hear everything. My parents were having an explosive and angry argument in the other room. I knew my mother was mad, because her usually soft voice was dominating their conversation. Their voices raised and lowered and the words I heard were related to my mother accusing my father of being with another woman. The significant part of the conversation was at the very end when my mother told him to pack his bag and move out.

My father did move out and it felt as though everything in our home was falling apart. I can only assume that they made up because he came back after only a few days. He never again moved out, but I don’t know if he any more affairs. Regardless of a betrayal they did love each other and remained married for the rest of their lives, maybe because divorce was regarded as something you just didn’t do. After my father died, my mother told me she wished she had divorced my father. I told her that if she had done so, I would have stood by her.

SECRETS I KEPT

Until my parents had the loud argument and he moved out, I did not understand the full ramification of his behaviors. Sometimes, when my father had an errand to run, he would take me with him. This was exciting to me, since we lived on a small farm and I was always bored. On one particular day he took me to what he called a “greasy spoon” café. He told me that it was his favorite place to eat, as it had much better food than the other larger restaurants. Presumably he had been there often, since the waitress behind the counter and he knew each other.

I watched him as he paid a lot of attention to and flirted with the waitress. It made me nervous and uncomfortable and I kept wishing he would stop. When we left the restaurant and headed for home, he told me not to tell my mother. This would be a secret between the two of us.

AND THEN THERE WERE THE PAPERBACK BOOKS

Had I not had the opportunity to read the books my father gave me, I may not have understood their argument as well as I did. He gave them to me discreetly so that my mother did not see them. He quietly told me not to tell her. It was our secret. It was another secret that he expected me to never reveal. This was okay with me. I enjoyed the books.

I knew they were hidden from my mother not because they were mysteries, but because they contained some sexually explicit parts. She would not have allowed me to read them.

AND THEN...........

It seemed that my father let me in on his secret life because he was treating me as his son. I was supposed to have been a boy, not a girl, and rather than continue to feel bad, my father decided I was going to hang out with him. Then it would seem okay, actually maybe normal for him to divulge his tawdry tendencies. So I was treated to something that was for me, a little strange, but because he was my father, I felt it was okay.

A SENSE OF HUMOR

There were many smaller secrets, ones that were insignificant when my father would tease my mother. My father had a bigger than life sense of humor. He was always playing pranks on the unsuspecting around him.

My mother would be putting clean sheets on their bed, tucking in the sides, making sure it was perfect. Trying to hold his laughter in and starting to turn red he would look at whoever may be watching, put his finger to his lips signaling to not speak out. He would then divert her attention away from what she was doing. My mother, used to his sense of humor would turn and pretend to scold him by using his full name. This was a harmless secret.

Then there was the time when my father wanted my mother to ride on the new escalators that were recently installed in our department stores. She was very afraid to ride on them, so my father convinced her by telling her that they took the elevators out of the building and she would have to ride the escalator to get to the second floor. He chuckled, turned red and put his finger to his lips signaling to me not to let her in on the real truth. I felt very bad for her. My father was lying to her and I wanted to tell her the truth. But, I knew my father would be very angry with me if I did not go along with his plan.

She was furious with him as she bravely rode the escalator and in front of eyes as she got off was, yes, a working elevator.

THE SECRETS REMAINED HIDDEN

I never told my mother about the books nor did I tell her about the waitress. I wondered if the waitress was the one they were fighting about. Had my father had an affair with her?

There was no reason why I should tell my mother about the waitress, or my suspicions. I was their child and I felt it was not up to me to come between the two of them. Obviously, I didn’t need to, as my mother seemed to have figured it out herself.

I became more tolerant and understanding in my observation of the relationships of others and of my own. Of course, there will be arguments, but that does not mean an end to the relationship.

EXERCISE

• List a time you were asked to keep a secret from someone.
• Did you think it was right or wrong? Did you do it anyway?
• Did your parents or friends ever have a heated argument?
• How did you feel?

  

 

PIANO ROLL BLUES

My fingers touched the keys trying to feel some familiarity, but it wasn’t there. There was silence in the parlor of the old Victorian style home of my piano teacher. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me as they waited with great expectation. I began playing. For a moment it felt that everything was okay, until I could hear whispers. I heard the music I was playing and I did not recognize it. My first thought was to run out of the room, but decided I had better finish.

I kept playing hoping that the disaster I was creating was just a dream, but I knew it wasn’t. I felt horrible and ashamed and I hoped I would never see these people again. I wasn’t sure that I could do anything right as my world came tumbling down. “I am so stupid.” I thought.

I had failed in front of my teacher, all the other students and their parents, and, what was worse I was the only one that made such a spectacle. I did not know what to expect from my parents, but I could only imagine their humiliation and shame. I was sure that my teacher was angry, but I would have to deal with her later.

I was eight and my parents wanted me to follow in my sister’s footsteps. My sister was good at playing the piano. Not only did she excel at her lessons, but she could also play by ear. I always knew when she had heard a new tune. She would run in the house, so she would not forget the tune, dash to the piano and play the song . But that was my sister.

DEJECTED AND REJECTED

When we arrived home after the recital, my parents told me that I had been on the wrong keys through the whole song. As my mother put it, ever so kindly, “That’s okay. All you need to do is sit and look pretty.” I know she wanted to console me. I did not have the talent to play the piano. I let my parents down, humiliated and disappointed them, especially my father. He had bought me several John Phillip Sousa music books thinking that I would actually play them.

It was as though there was nothing left for me to do. My goal may as well have been exactly what my mother said, to sit there and look pretty. I don’t think my parents, after the recital fiasco, believed I could do anything. They never seemed to understand that even if I couldn’t play the piano (after all not everyone can), I could do other things. To them it was the piano or nothing. The one good thing that came out of this was that I never had to play the piano again.

COMPETITION OR ENVY?

There was no doubt in my mind that my parents felt I was a loss cause. My self-esteem dropped to the lowest point. I knew I was not as good as my sister. My parents had given up hope for me.

At that point I felt rejection and I felt my parents loved my sister more. I would have to find something to prove that I was as good as my sister. But I couldn’t. My parents were not going to let me take dance classes or any other classes so I could show them something that I could do. Something that would make them proud of me.

AS THE THREAD WEAVES

I soon learned that it would be impossible to make up for the piano recital disaster. My parents had stated how they felt about my ability to play the piano, and the fact that they had wasted a lot of money on the classes I took. I was really in trouble.

I had wanted to show them by taking dance classes that I could do well and that they could be proud of me, but they would not even discuss it.

Three patterns developed from this situation: I could not do what I wanted, the money for anything I wanted would not be available to me, and I did not follow through on anything I started.

I knew I could not change their minds about dance classes, but in junior high school I wanted to try out for cheerleading. My parents seemed to have a very good memory and they reminded me of the piano recital. They also explained that the uniforms, for cheerleading were too expensive.

I had built quite a reputation based on one failed piano recital. They didn’t trust me, they didn’t believe I was worth it--nor did they believe I would follow through.

AND THE THREAD CONTINUES TO WEAVE

As I am an adult, making my own choices and decisions I find that these beliefs still have a pivotal effect on my life.

A number of years ago I decided I would take the dance classes that my parents stopped me from taking. I found that I loved to dance and excelled. Then the beliefs must have hit me in the head and heart because I came up with excuses. I decided that I didn’t have the money for the classes and the costumes. That I didn’t have the time for classes and rehearsals. In other words, my beliefs stopped me from finding creative expression and something I was good at.

The same thing happened when I went into Real Estate. I conjured up every bit of logic I could think of that would make me fail. I finally reasoned that I did not want to do it anyway, so why bother. What I should have done was to find another Real Estate Company to work for. One that would train me and had willing agents and mentors.

To prove to myself and others that I can follow through, I stay in demeaning low-paying jobs long after I know I should quit, as I am in the job I have now. It is miserable and the hours have been cut tremendously, but I keep trying to hold on.

TRANSFORMING DOUBTS

It is extremely difficult and unproductive to continue living with the restrictions my parents placed on me. Therefore, to transform and change my doubts, and the unnecessary and debilitating beliefs, I must let go of the stigma surrounding the piano recital.

I now believe that I can do whatever I want. I follow through when doing what I love. I always have enough money to provide anything that I want. I am deserving. I am worthy. I am good enough.

Writing posts for this blog is the first thing I’ve ever creatively done, enjoyed and followed through on. For me this is a very big accomplishment.

EXERCISE

• When you feel you are unduly criticized or a statement is made that lowers your self-esteem, do you believe yourself or them?
• Do you lose hope? Do you feel like giving up?
• Can you remember a time when failure consumed you?
• Are you willing to accept constructive criticism?

MAKING UP MY MIND

I started writing for myself about 15 years ago. At that time I had started three novels and a child’s book, contacted a writing instructor and editor and received very positive feedback from him. He was impressed, told me to do nothing but keep writing. I was not to take a class, not even his and not worry about the editing, not at this time anyway. Doing the editing would slow down my creative energy. He met with me a few times, to answer questions I had, and then I quit writing.

I got involved in my job and didn’t find a lot of time to write. When I did start up again, I called him and found out that he was no longer teaching or editing. He had a few writing assignments that he was involved with and building a house for his wife and her son was more than enough to keep him busy.

I sputtered, started and stopped with my writing and never made it into anything concrete. I did finish one novel, but was not really pleased with it, and let it go. I started several non-fiction pieces and even worked on scripts, nothing completed. Actually completing any of my writing meant that I needed to believe that what I was doing was really good. I also had to believe that I could and would give up working at a job. It became a real lack of confidence, even with the positive feedback from my editor.

IT’S WHAT I WANT

This time it’s different. I think it is because I feel more in control of what I want to do with my life. I know I have the talent to write, and now I intend to do something with this talent. Writing also has the potential to give me everything I want from freedom, independence, working from my home and setting my own schedule, to the possibility of earning an abundance of money.

I knew all this before, but I think I didn’t believe I could possibly make all this happen. Now I am taking a more realistic look at the way my life has been. It is a continuous line of degrading and miserable low-paying dead-end jobs. What I see is what I get.

In order to make this change I had to, without a doubt, make sure I understood this completely. I had to understand that I will never have what I want by working for someone else, not ever. It has helped that with the job I have now my hours have decreased so that I would not miss the income if I quit tomorrow.

WHAT I KNOW

I realize now that whatever I was told about not being enough, or not having what it takes were just words that my father repeated from his past. I understand this because even though my father said unkind things to me he also wanted the best for me. He wanted me to have the work that allowed me independence and wealth. I am willing to let go of the derogatory things he said. There are more than enough positive things that will give me the self-esteem boost I want, and remind me that my father and mother loved me.

IT’S A WRAP

I started writing again, because I never completely stopped. I was always making notes and writing in a tablet whether I was driving, at work or putting on make-up. I could continue this way or actually decide to do something with it. I decided that even though I had a full time job, I always woke up very early in the morning. This was the time that the world was quiet and even to this day I still write early in the morning. I’ve found that I am no longer rigidly set to writing just in the morning and will sit down to write anytime of the day.

I’ve made a promise that I will give myself the life I want and in order to do this I have to make changes to the way I think and the way I do things. My choices and the methods in which I plan to make a change are now a way of life for me. I no longer am wishy-washy in my thinking about ending my job, of knowing I will have to adapt to a different way of being paid, by results rather than hourly. It has become a way of believing in me and my abilities.

What do I want? Freedom, independence and wealth. I believe I have all this in being a writer. I believe that I have the courage, power and ability to make this happen for me.

I have had to rework the way I think about me. Instead of a woman who keeps everyone around me happy, I am the woman who makes me happy first of all and still have room for others. I will never have what I want or even what I need by working at a job for someone else. For me to be happy I must have freedom, independence and wealth, but I also must be happy and fulfilled. It is a package deal, but a package that I wrap for me.

A change can never happen if you don’t really want it. I not only want this change to take place I am also willing to do whatever it takes to make it happen. I can make this change only by believing that I deserve to have what I want, and also believing that I am worthy. I now have an editor, who is fabulous, working with me to fine-tune my writing.

Making a change is facilitated by making it a habit that you repeat constantly. I now mentally focus on my writing all day every day. I click on the delete button in my mind extinguishing all thoughts about my job and the people I work with. At this point my writing is in the limelight, brightly beaming and my job is fading into obscurity.

EXERCISE

• What changes have you wanted to make, but never carried through?
• Think of the messages that may have caused this pattern.
• Allow yourself to forgive those in your past who may have discouraged you from achieving what you wanted.
• Take control of the changes you want to make.

 

BLOGGING TO MY HEART'S DESIRE

Here’s what I want you to do, engage with me, follow me, subscribe to my blog, or comment on posts that you enjoy or that you don’t enjoy.

It’s a process of attracting attention because I want to know how you feel about what I write. I write on experiences that I’ve had from a young child to my current self, some are harsh, some funny, but always hopefully interesting.

To know how I’m writing I depend on you. I need to know that I am making a difference and even though I may be, how can I know unless you show me. You can do this by engaging with me, subscribing, following me, and commenting on my posts.

I’d like to hear from like-minded people, to share resources and information. I’d like to know if what I am sharing with is helpful.

Blogging is such a delightful resource and those who do blog find that we are addicted to writing each post. I was unfamiliar with blogging when I first began, now I find that I’m still learning. The one thing that I am sure of is that I love it and I want to share and connect with those of you who feel the same way. Or those of you who still wonder what this blogging world is about and those of you who have just begun, and are just getting your feet wet.

So join all of us who are new to this world of writing. Here’s how:

To Comment on a Post (let me and others know what you think about what you’ve read)

1. Click the “comments” link at the bottom of the post you would like to comment on.

2. Click the down arrow next to the “comment as” box, and choose the account you would like to sign in with, or choose “Anonymous.”

3. Write your thoughts in the “Post a Comment” box, then click “Post a Comment.”

4. If you have selected “Anonymous,” you will be directed to a screen to type in some letters so my blog will know you are a person and not a computer.

5. If you have selected to sign in, you will be directed to a screen to sign in with that account, and then to the screen to type in the letters.

6. Then click “Post Comment.” Once I review your comment, it will be posted for all to see.

7. Just a couple of house rules: keep it clean and be respectful to others.

To Subscribe to Glimmer (conveniently receive posts as e-mail messages)

1. At the top of the blog, to the right, there is a light green box. Where it says “Subscribe Via E-mail,” enter your e-mail address, and click “Subscribe.”

2. You will begin to receive my posts as e-mail messages. Read them and enjoy!

3. Don’t forget to visit the blog every now and then to post a comment (see above).

To Become a Follower of Glimmer (let me and others know you appreciate my blog)

1. Scroll down the page until you see the “Followers” section in the dark green right-hand column.

2. Click on “Follow.”

3. Click one of the icons to sign in with an account you already have, or click on the “Create a New Google Account” link to create a new one.

4. You will be directed to a form. Complete the form.

5. On the next screen, click “Follow This Blog.”

6. On the following screen, click “Done.”

I DID IT MY WAY

Screaming and crying I ran into the house, my mother a few steps behind. She was trying to make me go to school, and I was not cooperating, just like the day before and many days before that. I was about six years old, and I knew that if I threw a temper tantrum my mother would give in and let me stay home. From the time I first walked into that huge scary building, I knew I did not want to go to school. My mother and my teachers had already had quite a few conversations about my attendance record. My mother had tried everything to get me to go to school, but nothing worked.

I had it figured out, though. I would stay home for a period of time and then, when I knew I had to, I grudgingly went to school. I would do all the assignments that I had missed, then ask the teacher for all the future lessons that she had ready. I completed 10 days of assignments in two days, and then begged for more work. At that point she would tell me to help the students who were falling behind. When I completed all the tasks, she had given me, I decided I would not go to school again. It was a routine I had created and I’m not sure anyone else had it figured out. In spite of not being there most of the time, I easily passed each grade.

WRITING MY OWN RULES

I continued the pattern of missing school through junior high and in high school, minus the tears and screaming. I had it figured out: I was very bored. The subjects that I had to take were of no interest to me, so I dreaded going to school. I asked the Dean of Girls if we could have an art class so I could study sketching and colors, but I was given an emphatic NO. In spite of all this, I maintained very good grades, since this was what my parents and teachers demanded from me. In my senior year I was elected to the National Honor Society.

I remember the time in high school when I decided that if I did not get my homework done in school or in study hall, I would not take it home. I would not use my free time at home to study. I made that rule for myself, even though I knew it had the potential to be self-defeating. It became a challenge. Could I do all my homework assigned to me during my hours at a school, and still pass all the tests?

My parents and teachers did not know what I was doing, the only requirement was to get A’s and B’s, Seeing my report card was all that mattered to them, not the process in reaching that point. Which meant the new rule I had made was perfectly okay.

A LITTLE FIB

I suppose that because my family did not have rules for me, I had to make up my own. On one occasion, my friends and I had been out a little later than we probably should have. The next day they told me they were really in trouble and were grounded for getting home past curfew. I felt left out so I told them a little fib. I told them I was grounded, too. Looking back, I’m not sure why there was such a lack of rules and accountability for me, except that my parents, especially my mother did not associate with any of the other parents. Even though they had raised my sister, who was nine years older than me, they may not have considered what it takes to raise a defiant teenager. My sister was cooperative and compliant, while I was stubborn and independent, somewhat of a spoiled brat and I knew how to manipulate people.

A CONTINUING PATTERN

I continued my pattern of not spending extra time doing homework into my adult world. For instance when I went to class to study for my Real Estate exam, I refused to study at home and I refused to be worried. I would have to comprehend and remember what I learned during class. Did that work for me? I passed a very difficult Real Estate exam the first time.

The exceptions to this rule are my creative activities. I’ve always spent time practicing and rehearsing anything that I feel passionate about, such as writing, dancing, acting, design and decorating, cooking, and voice.

WHAT I LEARNED
 
While still a teenager, I went on a date, and the boy I was with tried to get me to drink flavored vodka. I was angry, appalled that he would think I was that kind of girl. I was afraid I would not be able to handle him if he started drinking. So I made another rule: I was not going to drink, nor would I be forced to drink. I made this rule since my parents did not give me any advice on dating. I was not going to drink nor would I be forced to drink. I did not care what my parents thought or what he thought. This is how I felt.

  

As an adult, I was out with a group of friends at a bar, and they kept ordering rounds of drinks. I was told to drink up. As they drank, they became louder and more forceful, but I refused to succumb. I did not want to drink the beverages that were sitting in front of me. Worse, the man I was with did not support me. In fact, he was angry because I was not being sociable and because I refused to comply.

I’ve noticed that sometimes it is difficult to go against what everyone wants. I’ve also noticed that to be true to me and true to the rules that I set for myself, I am going to make people angry with me. I accept this, and I continue to make my own rules to live by. I find that by making rules that I know will benefit me, I will less likely be swayed by others. By setting my own rules I also have set my standards high and place value on what is important to me. I have no one to answer to but myself.

EXERCISE

• Did you, out of necessity, make new rules for yourself as a child or teenager?
• Do you still use these rules in your life, today?
• Are the patterns plainly visible or do the patterns creep up unexpectedly?
• Is it time to make new rules and patterns?

SO MUCH ALIKE

Choosing not to appear to be better than anyone else, he had selected an office on the same level as all the other brokers. He sat quietly behind his desk when I entered the room, and pointed to the chair in front of him. I sat down. After a few seconds, he looked at me and said, “It’s difficult for a right brain person to make it in this left brain world.” I wasn’t sure where that thought had come from. We talked for a while, discussing what happens when we try to fight and struggle against the rules and control of those who refuse to understand us. And how much we abhor following orders and working in this environment. It was a topic he knew I would understand.

He was known in the company as the ‘maverick manager’. He wore dress pants, a casual shirt and no tie to work and occasionally brought his dog or his guitar into this very professional environment. There were times he felt the sales assistants were not given enough recognition and praise, so to show his appreciation, he would rent a limo for us, bring his guitar (we would all sing while he played) and take us out to dinner or to a baseball game. Yet, he ran a very successful office, which is probably why the higher-ups accepted his idiosyncracies. I didn’t know what he had done on the corporate level that led to such a title, but I liked it. I secretly wished that I could be more open with expressing my own indignation to rules and regulations.

I had my own maverick tendencies. I had been taking time off, with his permission, to do auditions for acting jobs. At least once a week I went after work directly to my acting coach for a class. I did a commercial for a local television station and a small part in an industrial film. Also, several years prior I adopted the practice of being holistic.

Some of my coworkers were curious about my behaviors and asked me questions. Like him, I was different and I didn’t hide this fact. Instead, I was and still am I am proud of who I am.

LIKE A TIGER IN A CAGE

Our conversation that day helped me to understand why I had such a difficult time conforming to the work place. Why I was always searching for something else, but didn’t know exactly what. I just knew that I was bored, and never had the drive or inclination to be an overachiever.

He understood, though, and it was in that instant in his office that I knew I had a choice. It was the fact that the words he said were spoken out loud for both of us to hear. I think up to that point we were hiding in our misery. We were both trying to fit in a place that we did not want to fit in, but felt we had to. How else were we to earn an income working at a job if we didn’t do what they asked?

I quit a short time later, but I couldn’t think of anything that I could do other than getting another job. The time I spent in creative classes, the auditions, the two acting jobs were the beginning of knowing that I wanted to do something creative. Acting would not be it, though. I talked with one of my acting coaches explaining that I had a very difficult time saying the words that someone else wrote and make it sound believable. He said writing would make much more sense since it is my word and not someone else’s.

The Maverick Manager also quit a short time later--packed his guitar, took his dog and moved to a town in the mountains. He was doing what he wanted. He had found his freedom. Me? I got a new job, thinking maybe it would be better, hoping it would give me more freedom and more money. It didn’t.

I still had to figure out what I wanted. I was not as brave as he was, nor did I have a concrete talent to use as a way to make money. The only way I knew to make money was to work for someone else and because of that belief that is where I was stuck. I went right back into working for someone else.

WHICH IS IT?

I've had several jobs in which every day I go to work, or just thinking about going to work I live under the abusive threat of being yelled at or fired.  Why would I want or be willing to work under these circumstances, if not for the fact that how else can I make money? Certainly not because I enjoy performing a miserable and boring job. On the days I am not working I fear not having enough money. Where is the happy medium? By what means do I actualize loving my work and enjoying prosperity and freedom?

The reason I have not been successful in my endeavor to have freedom, and be self-reliant and wealthy is that I remember being scolded for believing in something so ridiculous. Scolded for being a dreamer.

CAN WE HAVE BOTH?

Which is worse, not having money or not having peace and happiness?

I am working part time at a job, gradually phasing it out. Full time though I am writing. The pieces of the puzzle are not quite in the place they need to be, but time is on my side. A practice called determination and focus on my dreams will win out.

EXERCISE

• Did someone in your past make you feel your dreams were not worthwhile?
• Do you ever feel like a caged animal?
• What do you dream of? What work do you really want to do more than anything else?
• Is there a way that you can save enough money to quit your job and work at your dream?