There is dazzling clarity in realizing you’re unhappy. I use dazzling here in its most literal form, as exhibited by Gone Girl author, Gillian Flynn in one of Nick Dunne’s monologic descriptions of his sociopath wife, Amy:
daz·zle
/ˈdazəl/
verb
1. (of a bright light) blind (a person) temporarily.
noun
1. brightness that confuses someone’s vision temporarily.
I did, indeed, face sensory obstruction upon realizing I was unhappy. It was like that feeling you get when you’re weak and disoriented and finally remember you haven’t eaten since breakfast. You’re faltering off balance but comforted to define the problem. Alas: dazzling clarity.
As I entered my office Monday morning, healthy thoughts smoldered beneath a neurological brush fire of existential dread that spread hot between my ears. What the fuck was I doing here?
Here, as in this office.
Here, as in Philadelphia.
Here, as in life.
I think I had known I was unhappy at work for some time, but burying it felt like the sexier option. My position within a 5-year career in which I’ve jumped through all the right hoops at all the right times, forging meaningful connections and carving a linear path of success, rendered me deflated by 4 PM and anxious the next morning at 7. It was only a matter of time before this creative suffocation warranted one panicked gasp for air.
It’s confusing, you know? I’m a happy girl. I’ve always been able to say I wholeheartedly like what I do. I’m afforded the luxury of a job I enjoy with unparalleled flexibility and decent pay. What could be so wrong?
The answer: I don’t know. I don’t know what’s wrong. But something is, and it has been for a while. And through speaking this into existence, acknowledging my ignorance on the root of my dissatisfaction, I have chosen to embrace the unknown—the gut instinct that just because you can’t articulate why something is wrong for you does not mean it’s not wrong.
I’ve always held a traditional take on success:
College degree (advanced preferred)
Strong career trajectory (bonus points if your employer has clout)
Live in a city (but not like, fucking Bismarck, North Dakota)
Healthy romantic relationship (You each bring equally desirable servings to the table of life’s potluck. You are human mac & cheese.)
I’ve only met my standards marginally, but I have felt myself trudging toward them on an empty chase. I’ve mentioned before that Philadelphia has been pretty blah for me for a while. That is probably half true. It is not hyperbole to say this city made me. It catalyzed my belief in myself to start my blog, and to welcome love, vulnerability, independence, and opportunity with an open heart. But something is undoubtedly missing between my career and my surroundings, and I am determined to get to the bottom of it.
I’m not depressed, but I am certifiably Going Through It. People love to say, “you’ve got it made.” In some sense, I do. I have a great job, an apartment on my own in a vibrant neighborhood, and a support system in a city full of second chances. I spend far more time laughing than crying.
People also like to critique those who “settle.” But shouldn’t “settling” only refer to actively remaining unhappy? Does it really matter where you live or what you do if you are honest to god, feel it in your bones, sun on your face, love by your side, happy? I used to be the girl who observed others’ lives and wished they’d done more. But if they’re truly happy, what more is there to do than fucking live?
When intuition rears her celestial head, you better swab your ears and listen to the language of the stars. I need time and space to redefine success by how I feel, rather than how I think I should feel. I need inspiration and new plans, whether that be moving to Peru to feed goats, or simply buying more plants for my apartment and rekindling my relationship with the city. I need some shit… and I’m gonna give it to me.
How do you define success? How do you address unhappiness in your career or surroundings? Shoot me a message and maybe we can do this together.