It's officially been one year since my last day at my former job. (It was actually supposed to be the 31st, but I think they were all sick of my sulking silently around the office, and told me I could go home a day early.)
I don't really remember what I did that day. A good guess would be: cry. (I'm sensing a theme with my blog posts about crying, aren't you?) Later that night, according to Timehop, I went to my friend Erin's house and drank while she carved pumpkins with Roland and his daughter.
Obviously, the end of my job was not my decision. Nor was it expected. In fact, I had been explicitly told that I would not be losing my job. And I had believed them. But. Things happen. Apparently.
It wasn't the best of times. I felt betrayed and hurt and worthless. I had just finalized my divorce, which while being something I wanted, didn't exactly make me feel like a successful adult. I had sent my ex thousands of dollars (and sent credit card companies thousands more) that I had borrowed from my parents. I was living essentially on my own, solely responsible for all my bills for the first time in my entire life. So to now be (mostly) unemployed and uncertain how I was ever going to be a successful adult? Not great.
My mom immediately told me I'd have to move back in with them. Like there was no doubt in her mind. It was bad enough I got divorced (during which they also repeatedly tried to convince me to move back in), but now that I'd lost my job? That settled it. I should start packing my bags.
But. I'm stubborn. As usual. I didn't want to move in with them. I didn't want to leave my apartment (at least, not till I decided I was ready to). I didn't want to lose the freedom that I'd worked so hard to gain.
So, somehow, I made it work. I still had Fish Eye Fun jobs on the weekend. I had the buffer of money in my bank account I'd been slowly building since getting a separate account.
And I made it through the next six months until I started working as the office manager for Fish Eye Fun, I job I'd wanted since I knew it was a possibility.
I love it. Combined with the weekend photography jobs, I've never worked harder or longer hours in my life, but have never enjoyed a job so much, or believed so fully in what I was doing.
Plus, it's ridiculously fun.
And I get to eat free food.
And tell people what to do.
So. Did losing my job a year ago suck? Unbelievably. But I wouldn't go back to it for the world.
On that note, another happy anniversary to me. And many more to come.
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