Starting again... and again… and again.

My husband always jokes at me that I'm "What's next Stephanie" and it's true. I have not spent more than two years in a place since graduating from college. It might be a problem or it might be the right thing. I truly can't tell. 

I am constantly searching for my little slice of the "American Dream". Nothing Hollywood or what someone else would consider it to be, but my version of it. And, unfortunately, I'm still trying to figure out what that is. 

My own answer to my own issue is-- hopefully, I'll know it when I find it. 

I very much loved Columbia, Mo. My quality of life there was great. I exercised, ate well, loved the downtown and overall felt happy. The cost of living is low and the people are very nice. I was even offered a job on two separate occasions that would have set my husband and I up very well. He could have comfortably finished his master's degree and gone on to pursue and complete his doctorate. 

Why the hell did I turn it all down? 

The only answer I can come up with is that it just did not feel right. It wasn't for me. It wasn't what I wanted. 

I suppose it is a fear of failing myself. Of making the wrong life decision (and goodness knows I've made plenty of those). I know that I hold myself to sometimes unreachable standards and also fear that I will continually be disappointed.

I took a job in Pennsylvania as a staff photographer in an area that is very busy, difficult to navigate, expensive to live in and pretty much the polar opposite of Columbia. 

Everything leading up to right now has been a bit of a struggle-- flying out for an interview during a hurricane on my own dime, finding a reasonable place to live, my car breaking down halfway through the move here, trying to purchase a new car while still being registered in Mo., miserable people, getting lost, shitty pay, being constantly sick, getting lost and getting lost. My dog hates the apartment, nearly everyone I work with is miserable, and I'm apart from the one person that means more to me than me. My husband. I get choked up just thinking about not being with him. 

So why do it? 

Because it was my choice and I fought for it. It's something I want to be a part of (no matter how miserable everyone is) and it's a new adventure. Don't get me wrong, there have been a few time already where I've cracked and asked myself: Did I make the right choice? 

Is it my dream?

No. But it might become that. I think this is one step toward finding my little slice of heaven and I know good karma is right around the corner. 

I'd be unhappy doing anything else. I'd have no stories to tell. I don't know to be someone that hates what she does and just does it to go home on the weekend and put in her time until she can retire. I think too hard about things to be able to do that.

I'm having an adventure. I'm controlling my destiny and not letting it control me. 

Maybe this is where I stay, have a family and 'settle down'. Maybe this is just leading to another grand adventure… I'll let you know in two years.  

Next up: staying positive around miserable people. 

-S