This week has been chaotic. My workdays are slammed from the moment I walk in till the moment I leave, and I don’t have much time at home after cooking, cleaning, shopping, and working out at night. I have some emails I need to respond to, I’ve been wanting to blog a bit more, but life can get a little busy at times, and now is just one of those times. Hopefully it’ll slow down by the weekend.
But before, I turn in for bed (well, open up a Jack Reacher novel on my Kobo before falling asleep), I wanted to write about something that’s been on my mind the last couple of days.
I’ve never been content or all that happy with the jobs that I had. I guess, I always just wanted more for myself. More money, more responsibility, and at times, more respect. I think one of the things that depressed me this year was I felt like turning 40 meant the end for me. There were no more opportunities, or second chances. I was stuck where I was, and I’d just have to tolerate it forever.
Then a few months ago, an opportunity presented itself. My interview went well, and if the money had been better, I probably would have taken the job. I can’t even begin to guess how many jobs I’ve applied for over the past two years, but I think it is safe to say well over one-hundred with little to no response or just straight up rejection. So this was a huge win for me, and in some ways, I almost regret turning the job down.
As I approach my 40th birthday a mere six weeks away, I find myself with two job interviews and a potential third following an assessment exam. Of course, these are just interviews and nothing is guaranteed, but it feels good to be wanted and just to feel like there are still opportunities out there for me. Dare I say, a second act?
Maybe turning 40 won’t be so bad after all.
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