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 it was fear.
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.
But when I started blogging, I didn’t stop.
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.
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.