The Appointed Hour (or so she thought)
Rubi's Rambles: (Originally written on 4/24/2019- this was an attempt at releasing built-up anguish. Also, I had not yet attended my first writing workshop which was the event that changed everything.)
Disclaimer: Sometimes writing in the third person helps me get words and emotions out faster.
She needed to start. She was forced to begin somewhere because it was eating at her soul. She kept hiding in self-help books, spirituality books, writing books, basically, books of all kinds. She was OD’ing on books and yet she felt utterly empty and unsatisfied. She was a creative genius. Talented AF but stuck. She was stuck in a job where she was bored, a job she’d been dying to let go of since the day she practically started there, 7 years and 11 months ago. It wasn’t the worst of jobs. It was a comfort zone at that point and she had to go. Her soul was withering. Hanging on by a thread. She was too grand for this place. She loved helping others but hated being told what to do and when to do it. Never in her life was she told what to do. She always told others what to do and how to do it. Her mother knew. She’s been independent since birth. She could not be constrained. She didn't handle that well. She’s been her own person her entire life. She’s been selfish. Fulfilling her heart's desires.
This job- although she did it very well kept her small. It kept her safe. Kept her uninspired. She couldn’t hold on any longer. She had to choose between safety or sanity. Comfort or joy. Life or death. She had to let it go. She couldn't conduct more job searches either. The 9-5 life wasn’t her life. As previously mentioned, she can not be contained. Ever. She needed her freedom. She needed her own schedule and to do things at her own pace. Under her own management. She’s been a BOSS. and it was time for her to start walking, talking, and acting like one. No more 9-5s. No more updating bland ass resumes. No more competing with the entire world for a job that wouldn’t fulfill her regardless.
That was her fear-- that she would never find a position that made her genuinely happy especially if she was working for a company that demanded things from her. Deep in her soul, she knew where the happiness was; in the words, in the writing, in the reading. She’s magical. She can make words fall in love with each other. She's creative. She’s a daydreamer. She's a dreamer, period. She can not work for anyone. She’s her own woman. Been her own woman. And she will no longer be held back by mediocrity and safety. She has a very loving relationship with God and the Universe and knows for certain that her time has finally come.
PS: The time had not come as she would be in the same job for another three years.