Today I resigned from my job
I am ‘Unemployed’. A sudden vision of myself living in a cardboard box, wearing a beanie hat and fingerless gloves springs to mind.
A twenty-six-year-old female with a mortgage, bills and a furbaby to provide for… I must be mad!? But after skipping from one meaningless job to another from the age of sixteen, I can’t help but feel completely and utterly unfulfilled with my life right now.
Now don’t get me wrong I am blessed in many ways- I have a gorgeous boyfriend who is deliciously sexy, a ‘cosy’ first home, money in the bank, and a family that is gloriously dysfunctional. But at this ripe old age, as the wrinkles begin to sneak onto my face, I can’t help but feel like something is missing.
Do I have a plan? Nope. Well, not really.
I have dreams like the next person; I have desires to become incredibly successful… and I admit becoming undeniably wealthy wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen! But, I can’t lie, I don’t really have a solid fool-proof plan.
So why have I quit my job?
On the 25th August 2016 Leslie Brian Fenning died, aged 66. Leslie Brain Fenning was my Dad.
Now I won’t bore you with the details as to be quite honest the details aren’t important nor distinctly enthralling- He wasn’t taken from us saving a child from a blazing fire, or whilst protecting the rainforest from depletion. He simply had cancer, and now he is gone. He left six children, eight grandchildren, two ex-wives, and one extremely spoilt cat behind.
After the tears, and A LOT of gin, came an overwhelming question upon my own mortality, and the mortality of those around me. PANIC! There is simply not enough time, and certainly not enough time to be wasting! I looked at my life and asked myself, what is important to me?
“All that we love deeply becomes a part of us.”–Helen Keller
Through the grief, a wise person told me- Your father’s legacy is you, his children. It’s funny how I use to hate certain aspects of myself, like my ridiculous freckles, my don’t-even-bother-going-in-the-sun skin, my larger than life hands, or my larger than this universe cranium. (I know, I sound a real treat! ) Before August I longed to change all of this, but now I look at them with great endearment because I see they were a gift and a connection to someone who is no more. Luckily for me however, not only did my dad grace me with his glorious genetic make-up (god help my future children), but he also instilled some pretty impeccable attributes that reassure me that I have great potential.
Death is a strange occurrence- we know it is inevitable and we know we will all leave this world one day, but it doesn’t stop us feeling that immense pain when it happens. I guess it’s the million-dollar question isn’t it- What happens after death? Do they hang around aiding us through life? Or floating from A to B watching who cared enough to cry, or who’s just concerned about who gets the red Jag left on the driveway? Are they up in the sky somewhere wearing white robes sleeping on clouds? Or are they simply gone?
These looming questions are why I find myself here. No matter what happens, I realise that time is just too precious to gamble with! I need to get my arse into gear, brush my hair, step away from the fridge… like really far away… and save this sinking ship!
Yes, I have a slight issue with anxiety to the point where I want to hibernate in bed most mornings, yes, most days I may talk to my pet pug, Frank, and expect a reply, and yes, I may have had a minor breakdown or three or ten- But now I’ve hit the bottom the only way is up, right?! I’m not sure of where I am going yet, but god help me I’m going somewhere!
I choose to evolve. I choose to work hard. I choose to succeed. I choose happiness.
Today I resigned from my job, and you know what, I feel strangely liberated! Petrified… But liberated.
These blogs, I hope, may inspire, teach and amuse. I have no niche or main directive, but only to scribble down my thoughts onto metaphoric paper as I somehow work out what the hell I’m doing. Today my mind is opened to the world, and quite possibly no one will read this, but even so my journey begins now.