I finally sucked up enough courage to quit my job. The job that I hated. The job where I have been insulted, forgotten about, chastised for no reason, guilt tripped, and where my supervisor conveniently forgot to pay me. The job that paid for my bills and basically, allowed me to live a comfortable life. Comfortable meaning not continuously freaking (and I mean FREAKING) out about how I’m going to avoid the poorhouse and the inevitable credit problems associated with it. I quit. I didn’t complain, I pulled the mature face out of my little bag of masks and put it on. That’s what Jesus wanted me to do. So Poopster, now I can put a little star in the book you gave me…next to “Quitting Your Job.” And maybe one next to “Facing your Fears” too, since my manager can be a truly frightening person.

Needless to say, the past few days have been spent drowning in guilt about my forthcoming irresponsibility. I owe my father nearly $1000 for my car. I have to pay a $50 gym fee for a gym membership I’m not supposed to use. There’s the cell phone bill for the phone I never use to call the friends I never talk to and the boyfriend who is rarely available for any sort of conversation. And there’s the student loan payments for the education which I am not using in any semblance of a job.

In desperation, I took one of those online quizzes about what my ideal career path would be. According to this survey, I have less than 10% interest in any job path I’ve pursued so far. I’m not surprised. But it’s encouraging to know that it isn’t I have an aversion to work. I just am only qualified for work I have no interest in accomplishing. It’s funny how everything I hate doing is where the money is. And if I want to do what I love, what is fulfilling for me, I have to settle for doing it for free.

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