Tears and Teeth-Grinding Miserable
I made a decision about a job last night and woke up this morning with a clenched jaw and cried to my roommate as she got ready for work. It is the right decision for me, I'm pretty sure. Socially, it is the right decision--a decision that will make me happier person because I will have time to talk to and maybe even hang out with my friends, maybe even date in the city I love in a frum community I feel much more comfortable in. And these are things that are really important to me, things that make me happy. I will be doing what I love--and doing it with more trust and autonomy than I receive from my current employer. So, I made the right decision.
Except that I am miserable. Tears and teeth-grinding miserable. People work their whole lives to get to this place--this AMAZING place--and I am leaving. Shouldn't my career take some amount of precedence? Maybe. I don't know. I feel like a failure for moving down, like a failure for not even staying to try to make it work. I desperately want to stay, but the job I took is a much better starter job for me. Friendlier, smaller, busier--things I really do need, aside from talking to my friends, which I also definitely need.
And I know I should be happy. Happy that I have an amazing job. Happy that I got an offer relatively easily and that it really sounds great for me. It's not fair for me to be so stressed out when some of my friends don't have jobs at all yet and are so nervous about that. I am not a prestige-seeking person who needs the job that sounds the best. I need the job that is the best for me. "One of the great things about being a copy editor is freedom from vulgar desire for public recognition." Right? So, why am I so caught up on public recognition? A career is not going to make me happy in isolation. And they said I can come back later if I want to, so this doesn't even have to be a permanent decision.
I know all these things. So why do I sound like I'm convincing myself?