It's like any whining, rattling ride at the fair you strap yourself into, your pulse pounding and stomach fluttering. It's the job search.
This time I strap myself in without the overwhelming greed for the brass ring. I don't need to stand up on a shuddering machine at 150 miles an hour and try to grab any rigged "prize". I want to land where there's a good spot for me.
I want progress in meaningful work, ideally, but in lieu of that a paycheck that doesn't cost me my health or my soul. I'd love to have a desk, a title and a bit of respect-but I won't do it if it makes me hate life.
There are costs I won't pay, this time. I won't bear any abuse. I won't overwork to my own detriment or stay in a toxic environment.
If that means driving a shuttle bus for a mundane cause, if it means simple phone work or something else "menial" but I get to keep my healthy nervous system and have a life, then I won't balk. I've got nothing to prove to anybody.
I've got hopes, of course. But I'm ready for the rough parts. It won't be my first ride and I won't throw up this time. I'll keep my fingers and toes in, keep my seat belt on tight and scream when I need to. But this time I know I'll land on the ground and even if I do a dizzy stumble at first, I'll recover. I will walk straight again.
It's just a ride.