Painting Myself Into A Corner

I have submitted my 2 week notice to my retail job. I do this with a bit of trepidation. First, the summer months will be financially lean as I will be solely dependent on my dog walking business. Next, I worry about my choice to quit which was precipitated by an offer to return to my teaching job (part time, not full time). Finally, I will have a lot more time on my hands -- something that makes me a tad bit nervous.

Dog walking is going well. It is a job that ebbs and flows. I have some steady clients (about 6 dogs a week) and then I have additions -- covering for another dog walker, for instance, or walking dogs for people who are in a temporary need. The additions are not permanent though there is always a chance they may well be. I'd love to have more permanent clients, but with the economy being what it is, hiring a dog walker has moved down the list of priorities for most people.

My freelance writing job will end after the next newsletter due June 1 and that will fold into my return to teaching beginning in September. I am excited about the chance to continue writing for the school, but I'm a bit nervous about my return as a part-time teacher. On the one hand it will be a great way to practice maintaining my boundaries, but on the other hand, it will no doubt tap into my quirky perfectionism -- the need to make every lesson plan and assignment meaningful.

After four hours of retail work last night, I couldn't sleep. My body aches after a shift and so I tossed and turned and my brain shifted into worried thinking. I spent a good part of the morning trying to put my finger on the core of my worry and the best I could come up with is that feeling of not knowing what will come next.

After 22 years of teaching, I decided to leave because I knew EXACTLY what was going to come next and none of it felt new or different or motivating. Now I'm on the other side of the feeling. I should be excited and in many ways I am, but I am also nervous. At the center of my nervousness is the need NOT to get stuck in the predictability of my career or, as the title of this blog suggest, not to paint myself into a corner.

And there, perhaps, is the prickly conundrum I'm feeling: I want the possibility of the future to outweigh the uncertainty of the future. I want that edgy feeling of having to make my own way in the world, but not the nervous anxiety of not knowing which way to head. The greatest difference between my life as a full-time teacher and my life now as a small business owner is that most of my work today revolves around making more work. As a teacher, most of my work was wading through mountains of work, most of which was not generated by me. It came from all the expectations outside my classroom -- the meetings, the committees, the institutional desires to document and explain and justify.

Each side of this dilemma has benefits. There is as much comfort in predictability as there is frustration and disappointment. Equally, there is as much thrill in making my own was as there is worry and anxiety. The cliche of one day at a time has some weight in this dilemma. I find myself saying, "Today is good. I have what I need. I'm doing good work. I am happy and content."

To live inside that moment with a bit more permanence is the dance I find myself doing of late. I suppose I should trust my history -- the more I am open to possibility, the more possibilities open up for me.

Meanwhile, there is rain again today. If it weren't for the leaves on the trees and the slightly warmer temperatures, it would feel like November. They say it will dry up soon and I'm looking forward to that. I'm looking forward to a lot of things of late, but walking dogs in the sun feels like a small comfort on which to begin.