Space Camp

It's Friday afternoon and I am at Space Camp (ok not literally)

I am sitting at my very unimportant desk job making entirely too much money for what I do and I am bored to death. I don't want to be here. And while I'm on it, it's not just today. It's every day.

Most days I take my dear sweet time getting my butt out of bed and getting ready for work. Then I pull into the parking lot and glare at the building with sleepy, resentful eyes. I say out loud to myself, "I cannot go in there today". It's like slow death... by butterknife. And before anyone comes off with it, I KNOW I should be thankful I have a job in current economic times, that there are millions of people who can't get a job, etc. I never said I'm ungrateful or unappreciative.. I recognize that I am in a much better place than a lot of people.

But I hate this job. I suppose part of this stems from the fact that since the fourth grade I thought I would be a Special Agent with the DEA. Working for one of the country's largest marketing firms doesn't exactly compare. I spent years preparing myself for what I thought would be a career of my dreams. I took nine years of Spanish so I could become fluent. I joined the Police Explorer Post at age fourteen. I was a good kid who stayed out of trouble and kept my nose clean.

I started working at age fourteen at a car wash and then when I turned fifteen I was the burger girl at Burger Thing. Plowed through school and graduated early at seventeen. Moved the hell out and went straight into a full time job at the exact same company I am working for now... FOURTEEN YEARS LATER.

Hindsight is 20/20. I know I let my own stubborn ass lead me to where I am now. I'm also honest enough to admit that even with excellent strategic planning, life happened. There is some truth to "having the world by the tail", but I let myself get comfortable and I let myself find excuses.

I had the chance to become a dispatcher when I was quite young and I decided that working rotating shifts was a lot different than my existing job which was a straight day gig with weekends off. I was a total moron. Then I was offered a job traveling all over Central and South America putting my awesome Spanish skills to use and like an idiot I let my insecurities get the best of me and decided to pass it up.

Here I am in damn near middle age and I feel like I can't even tell you what I'm about. What I'm good at, what I like, what I want, etc. I'm a freaking mess. I'm kicking myself. I played it "safe" and it's the biggest regret of my life.

The one thing I can say is that through all of this I found the hubs, we had The Dude and Mr. Pants and they are truly the biggest representation of who and what I am. I love my family and I would never be able to go on without them. Now I look at my kids and realize I am SO totally NOT the example for them I thought I would be when they were just hypothetical beings.

I think I need a reset button.