If you’ve been following this blog for awhile, you know quite a bit about my life. But I haven’t talked a lot about how I came to be a full-time freelancer, and what it took for me to finally give myself the freedom to stop trying to fit into a regular nine-to-five. Let me tell ya, it took me a really long time.
That’s what I’m talking about today on My Thirty Spot. Editor Erin Kennedy graciously invited me to participate in her Love for Thirty series, since I’m turning thirty this year. While I always work hard to write honestly here, this piece is one of the most revealing things I’ve written in a long time. It took weeks of looking back into my twenties and facing a lot of difficult periods before I could sit down to write this. But in the end, I’m proud of how real it turned out to be, and I’m grateful for the opportunity to examine how all the pieces came together to get me to this happy period.
Here’s a snippet of the post. If you want to read the essay in its entirety, head on over to My Thirty Spot.
Up until rather recently, I changed jobs the way other people switch out their purses. Between my first job in high school and this, the last few months before my thirtieth birthday, I’ve had eighteen jobs. Nineteen if you count the day that I worked at Harrods. I quit when told me that, should the store undergo a terrorist attack, I would be among the last to be evacuated – and then they scheduled me for a sixty-hour week. I doubt anyone would count that.
Some of these jobs were pretty well aligned with my English degree: tutor, textbook editor, book designer, newspaper columnist, magazine writer. But I also worked as a salon manager, barista, and salesperson. I took positions at a chocolate shop, a baby boutique, and a Buddhist peace institute.
Soon after completing my graduate degree, I took on a full-time job at a detective agency. When I tell people about this period of my life, they immediately imagine a film noir-esque office; wooden doors with frosted glass windows and standalone racks perfect for dramatic fedora snatching. But the reality was all halogen lights and plastic cubicles, with only the buzz of the air conditioner…
Find the full post here.
Photography by the talented Meghann Street.