It’s not a dream, it’s a plan.

Some days I find little hidden signs in the chaos of life that I’m forced to pay attention to. Sometimes it comes in the form of picking berries, like I did last night. Man, that was so wonderfully meditative. I want to go picking again just so I can feel that focus and calm again.

Other times it comes in the form of things that stop me in my tracks. There are lots of cheesy sayings out there, and lots of eye-rolls on my part when I see them. But every now and then there’s a real winner in there if you pay enough attention.

Today I saw this one, and it made me remember all the times I had crazy dreams and actually chased them. callitaplan

Then I remembered that this was the dream, and I made it my plan. Having a family and a house and a life in a place that I love WAS a dream, I MADE it my plan, and thankfully Ed was up for the suffering adventure, too. So it’s hard to feel too sorry for myself that I’m spending my days looking for work. It will come, I’m sure of it.

But I have to remember this time around– my job is not me, and I am not my job. We shouldn’t let our work define us– WE define us. It’s PART of us, but it’s not the core of our person. I’m as guilty of it as anyone in the room, especially in my 20’s. I can remember sleeping on the floor of the Salt Lake Tribune photo office one night because I was there late and really, truly, just loved being there SO much. I spent years working at newspapers, breaking my back with camera gear, racing to assignments, being chased by dogs, being chewed out over the phone, and even being deposed in defense of my job and profession. It wasn’t until newspapers chewed me up and spit me out in the recession that I came to terms with the fact that your dream shouldn’t be defined by something that can’t dream along with you. Jobs can’t love you back, but they can provide for the dreams you have.

I’m tired. I’m sitting in a messy house. I’m spending my days with my eyes glazed over on job boards, hoping this will be the day I get an email, or a call. But it doesn’t matter if it’s not– as long as the people in my little family are happy, healthy, fed, and have a warm bed to play dinosaurs sleep in at night.

 

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