Several years ago, I had clawed my way out of receptionist-ville into a mid-level clerical position. I spent my lunch hours walking in the office park, to burn off excess calories and the nervous energy I had from not-quite-making-ends-meet, with a temp in my office. She was a fascinating person to talk to, a Buddhist, and one day, she looked up my horoscope, and gave it to me. It said something along the lines of “you know you have to climb that mountain, so stop trying to talk yourself out of it and start talking yourself into it.”
Over the years, I used that thought to motivate me to change jobs, to make it through grad school, and more.
I find myself on the brink of climbing my first 14er, and simultaneously trying to make a career step that I never thought I’d seriously get a shot at. The second is less impressive than the first, because the truth is that I always suspected the odds were against my escape from receptionist-ville (even though I haven’t been there in 16 years). Honestly, I suspected that my choice to major in English and writing instead of something, like, marketable, might just make me the best-read cab driver in whatever town I settled in. And even when I used my degree to publish books, just like I always wanted to, I didn’t fully believe it. And I published more than a dozen books (almost certainly nothing you’d have heard of.) And even when I edited a well-respected technical publication, I expected every moment to be found out. And then I transitioned to something I had no training in, and expected to fall flat at it… and actually had kind of a knack for it.
So the next few days and weeks are me trying to talk myself into climbing that mountain. The literal one and the figurative one. And figuring out what kind of (metaphorical) bubbly to pop if I get to the top of each.