Happy

For much of my life I had a lot of starting. With just as much stopping.

Maybe it could have been blamed on ADD.

Maybe not.

Maybe it was fear.

Maybe laziness.

Maybe what I would start just wasn’t the right thing for me.

I always began with gusto bordering on OCD.

I would throw myself into something and think that it would be my niche. The one thing I could do that would help produce some sort of income for my family.

The one thing I could do that would make me happy.

When that didn’t happen, I would give up.

You see, I always had this expectation that I would be wealthy.

Not that I would marry someone wealthy, although that would have been a bonus.

I just always assumed it would be my own personal wealth, one that I had created by my own creation.

Whatever that creation was.

And it would make me happy.

Because I would be complete for myself.

Beyond the fullness I feel from my family.

That expectation was unrealistic, I suppose.

My mom used to always tell me that something would come along. Something that I would be able to turn into a career.

A career that I would wake up excitedly to do.

A career that would give me a feeling of accomplishment.

After all, she turned her love of antiques into a thriving, successful business.

She was positive that would happen for me.

She was sure of it until the day she died.

So, I always kept trying.

And stopping.

But when I started blogging, I didn’t stop.

Not really.

Sure, it’s exceptionally inconsistent.

I blame that on my family. They get mad when I write about them.

It’s not so fun to write about myself, I’m not all that blog-worthy.

But, I kept blogging.

Then, blogging turned into this crazy thing called “microblogging”.

Then, suddenly…there was this thing called Social Media.

When people first started talking about this ‘social media’, I had no clue what it was they were talking about.

Then, I found out and was like…whoa, that’s what I’m doing.

I was freelancing.

I had people paying me to manage their pages.

And my mom’s words started coming to fruition.

I found my niche.

Social media.

Granted, I’m no guru.

I just sort of understand how to do it.

My technical words are ‘thingy’ and ‘whatchamacallit’ and I’m sure that half the time, I sound like an absolute unprofessional idiot.

But somehow, I found my way.

I didn’t give up.

I listened to and believed in what my mother told me.

Someday, I’d find my niche and make a career out of it.

And I have.

I’m not going to be independently wealthy from being a Community Manager but I don’t care.

I have this career that makes me so happy.

I’m getting paid to be happy.

I’m getting paid to do something that I love to do.

It doesn’t even feel like I’m working because of how much I enjoy it.

I mean, that’s the best job on the planet.

Even if this job ends in a month, that’s one month of happiness I can add to my resume of life.

I probably wouldn’t be able to add a one month gig to my real resume, though.

But wow, am I happy.

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