My job is work. It is not something I love, it is a mandatory chore I perform 40 hours a week, 48 weeks a year to pay the bills. I do like my job, I like the environment, the people and the benefits, and I am very grateful that I have this job, but I do not wake up in the morning fired up about it. It is not my passion. I remember in Year 12 I was one of the few people who knew what I wanted to do, and I knew one thing for sure; I was not going to spend my life working behind a desk, stuck in an office, it was not going to happen. Yet here I am.
I have no regrets, this work suited me in my twenties (did I really just say that?). Before I met Hubby I was living the life, working in the city, strutting my way through traffic with my coffee in one hand and the latest Cosmo in the other. I really did think I was all that. But then I met Hubby, my priorities changed, we built a house and now we are settled. And that is why I now find myself sitting at my desk at work thinking about my dreams. I had so many when I left school.
I have so many dreams now and work/career is the big thing for me. I don't want to work behind a desk anymore pushing papers around. I want to contribute, I want to wake up excited about work, I want to go to bed at night knowing I am living up to my full potential. I encourage those around me all the time to follow their dreams, life is too short, just do it. I need to practise what I preach. I don't know why I've been so fired up lately about living life, everywhere I turn I am inspired, perhaps now this is my big "a-ha" moment I have been waiting for, although, of course, it looks nothing like I thought it would.
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