A relative of a friend said something interesting.
“If you’re not able to find it in yourself to really delve into or access your true creative space and purpose, then quit your job.”
If your name isn’t Moleskine, you don’t know the depth at which I battle with myself about quitting my job. Some people know how much I want to leave, most don’t. But I’ve bad mouthed myself so much because of how many times I’ve went against my word. I’ve ridiculed and made fun of myself because of how weak-willed I am towards myself.
The point my friend’s uncle was making in saying he should quit, was that forcing yourself into that sink or swim situation could give you the right clarity to move more effectively and light the proverbial fire under that ass. It resonated because as much as this job grows to be the bane of my positivity and serenity, it’s ‘safe’. But it’s stopping me from really attempting to swim further. The reason is this: if you’re stuck in the ocean clinging on to a discarded tire surviving off the food scraps dropped from the gargantuan cruise liner you’re so aimlessly drifting behind, that’s neither sinking or swimming.
It’s just, enough.
Enough doesn’t grant wishes. It doesn’t grant greatness.
Enough isn’t enough to turn those fairy tale dreams in your head into biopic-worthy Moleskine entries for your children to read. It just isn’t.
I’ve had enough of enough.