Already, this new year is testing me.
Before Christmas, I learned that Cengage has completely stopped using freelancers to do permission work. When I was told that it might be possible for me to work for one of the vendors they use, I felt hopeful. Truthfully, I was stuck in a professional rut working as a freelancer. I was stagnant. There was no room for growth of progression there. So I thought, Perhaps this is good. This vendor works with other publishers, too. Maybe this will open the door for me to work for other companies. So I applied. And I've followed up twice. But there's been no response.
A few weeks ago, I happened to be on Cengage's careers website, and I came across a posting for a Rights Acquisition Specialist. I immediately applied. I tried to reign in my hopefulness, simply because I had applied to work at Cengage over a year ago, and look how that had turned out. But I was, despite myself, hopeful. It was perfect timing. I was getting ready to wrap up my last few projects, so I wouldn't have to put my life on hold, and the transition would be easy. I was familiar with the contracts, with the database, with the projects and that division. I felt that I was perfect for the job, and I lined up references that seemed to agree with me.
My first mistake was waiting two weeks to follow up with the hiring manager. But I'm not sure it would have mattered. He never even received my resume, even though I submitted it through Cengage's careers interface. In fact, according to my account on the website, my resume is still "under review." But it struck me that perhaps I wasn't mean to have this job after all, which led me to an even deeper contemplation about the way my professional life has gone thus far.
Truth be told, every job I've ever had has pretty much fallen into my lap. I've been extremely fortunate that way. Not that I haven't deserved these jobs or haven't worked hard at them, but I've never had to job search and most of my interviews have been mere formalities. Perhaps it was unrealistic for me to think that I would be able to find another job right away, that I would have no lag time in between jobs. I've only been looking for jobs for a week and already I'm feeling discouraged.
Taking a good hard look at my finances was sobering. Last year, I spent more money than I earned---and really, I earned more than I ever have before. I think that I got too comfortable. I've always said that if I had a lot of money, I didn't think it would change me. In the fundamental ways, it didn't, but I also got used to buying things whenever I wanted them, just because I wanted them. I wasn't necessarily buying super expensive things, but I didn't want for anything, and if I did, I bought it for myself. Now, my income is one-quarter of what it was last year, and I'm overextended. And though I'm extremely fortunate to have any jobs at all---much less one that I genuinely enjoy---I can't help but feel extremely stressed about my current financial situation.
I'm in limbo. I want nothing more than to find a full time job that would utilize my skills and be something I love doing, but with the possibility of moving to California tucked into the back of my mind, I'm not sure how to proceed. Plus, if I want to get any kind of teaching job, I need to have my Master's degree in hand, and graduation is three months away. At that point, I'd get a job, train for it, then what? Leave a few months later? Why even bother getting established then? At that point, should I just look for another part time job, whatever the position may be?
I know me, and I know that I need to work in order to feel worth as a person. I miss being the provider, too.
More and more, I believe that the Universe has a plan for me. I think this is the Universe's way of knocking me down a peg. This is the Universe's way of saying, "Ashley, you got way too comfortable, and you got way too confident."
But I loved my job, and I was good at it. And now that it's gone, I really, really miss it. I miss the validation that came with it, I miss the pace of juggling several projects at a time, and I miss the relative stability that it provided. It may not have been "going anywhere," but it was something that I loved.
But the Universe has a bigger plan for me, and I just have to trust that it'll take me along the path I'm supposed to follow. There may be a few months where I struggle, but, to be completely cliche, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right? And it's not like I'm alone. I have Jeremy. And really, that's all I need.
*
Last weekend, I had another jarring realization, another striking moment of contemplation. Jeremy and I attended my friend's father's memorial service. This friend and I have long since drifted apart, but I felt that it was important that I be there to show my support and to let him know that even though I've distanced myself, I still care.
I was a complete wreck at this service. My friend got up to give this speech about his dad, about his love of music, about his favorite color (yellow), about his parents' lasting love. It was so touching that, despite the fact that I'd never met this man, I wept.
And then, they showed not one, but two photo montages. At the end of the second one was a recording of his voice saying "I'll love you forever."
You would have to be made of stone not to have some reaction to this service, it was that touching.
But I had such a strong reaction to it that I had to wonder why. I had never met this man before, so why was I such a mess at this memorial? Why couldn't I keep it together?
And it occurred to me:
It was hearing about his parents' relationship. It touched me because not only do my parents not have that type of loving, lasting relationship, but I've never actually seen the type of love that my friend described his parents as sharing. I remember looking at Jeremy in that moment, knowing that I love him more than life itself, and hoping beyond hope that we still love each other this much---if not more---forty, fifty, sixty years from now.
And as I listened to my friend describe his relationship with his dad, and as I watched photo after photo of his dad with his wife and children, it made me sad that I don't have those types of memories of my dad. He and I have a good relationship now, but we weren't close when I was a girl, and I'll never get to have those memories.
I look at Jeremy and know with certainty that he'll be a good father to our child(ren), and it makes me hopeful for our future, however uncertain it may feel right now. We may be facing hard decisions and financial insecurity, but one thing remains true: Our love for and trust in one another will get us through it.
