Brave/Foolish

The past twelve months have been a whirlwind. Last year at this time I was living and working in Mexico City; by the end of April, I had decided that I would give my boss a full one month notice, and my tenure with the company would be over by the end of May. I then spent the month of June traveling in Mexico, as well as spending time in Mexico City in what had become my favorite spots, seeing friends. Just before I went home to San Francisco on July 2nd, a friend had offered me a job running his boutique ad agency. I happily accepted, relieved that my gamble at leaving my previous job without a parachute had resulted in a soft landing elsewhere. The plan was for me to spend two months back in the U.S., then return to begin my new job in Mexico in the fall.

Sure enough, while I was at home in California over the summer, I communicated with the company in Mexico, and we had some discussions regarding pay. I decided that the pay was too little for me to live off of, and so reluctantly declined the job offer. Thus it was that in mid August of 2015, my plans were once again up in the air. No longer with a job waiting for me back in Mexico, the prudent plan was to begin looking for work in the San Francisco Bay Area. And so I did, though with some sadness, as I realized that my dream of living abroad was really coming to an end. I told myself that ten months of living in Mexico City were sufficient, and that I was still enormously grateful for what ended up being an amazing year. But I wasn’t quite ready to say goodbye to that lovely life I had created for myself. The culture shock of going from walking tree and flower-lined streets, passing by roving street musicians and vendors, and spending time with interesting new friends to relying on my car to get around in suburbia, driving to Costco and the mall, was real and abrupt. So my transition to life back home was difficult.

I even flirted with the idea of moving back to Mexico in December and January, when I interviewed with another company there. But my gut instinct said it was not the right job for me, and I didn’t want to rush into another job if it didn’t feel right. So I applied for jobs in the Bay Area, hoping to break what turned into month upon month of unemployment. If I am not gainfully employed in two months, it will be a full year of not working, with the notable exception of November and December, when I temped at a friend’s company. It’s the only reason I still have money in the bank. So I apply and apply, tweak my resume, and hope. Hope to be productive again.

I’m also choosy in my next role because during my last months in my last job, I felt my confidence in my abilities erode. My confidence has taken jab after jab in the last year; I am eager to do something that I am good at, where I am fully using my talents and doing work that puts a smile on my face. I don’t want to return to the old Sunday evening dread.

So have I been brave in my choices, or have I been foolish? It’s the question I turn around in my head. What would I do over, what would I do different? How did I end up unemployed and confused in my mid-thirties? I believe the answer lies somewhere between foolish and brave, depending on how I am feeling at the moment. But I am soldiering on, which is what’s important. Never backward, only onward.