In less than a week I will be a grown-up again. I’ll get to wear nice clothes, makeup and even high heeled shoes! We’re not talking the sky-high shoes that are dusty and strewn across the floor of my wardrobe, or the flats that are squashed underneath the runners and slippers that have taken over my life. I mean REAL mid-height grown-up ladies shoes. There’s nothing really special about their design, but they represent my future. In all their plain black court shoe glory, they are everything I’ve been working towards.
The last time I was in the workforce was September, 2013. It was around the time of my second blog post. I was working in a stiflingly small office within the financial services sector. I had become a target for a bully, often being confronted with slamming doors, being personally insulted, and constantly questioned about why I was doing some tasks one week, then berated for not doing them the next. I was in a position where I could not possibly win. But I was pregnant. My goal was to work as far into the pregnancy as I could in order to be eligible for the government’s paid parental leave. It only resulted in a miscarriage at thirteen weeks, a resignation text from my hospital bed and a full career change. I enrolled in a degree within a few days, and here I am now.
Two years and ten months later, and I am almost finished my degree. I have two trimesters remaining. I just have my current full time study load for one trimester, then one part time and I am DONE. I can’t believe I am here. My time studying has been more fun than I can ever explain. I think knowledge and education are highly addictive. Well, they are to me anyway. Which is why it scares me to think I could almost be done. In fact, next week I begin my internship. I knew I’d have to do at least one, but I really didn’t want to … until I saw the ad for this one. It’s an eight week program within the editorial department for an online publication I have followed for several years now. It looked too good to be true, so I applied not expecting to hear back. I was then called for an interview. Again, I went without any expectations. I joked about the fact that I sat between two models in the fawyer and couldn’t hide my giggles when a hipster asked them if they were her for the “Vogue fitting”. Any other time I would have stood up and said “Yes” to watch his reaction. The building was amazing. I was just happy to be at the interview, to walk through the offices to the meeting room where I pitched my story. I smiled, sat on my hands to stop them from flying around, made them laugh, and left with no expectations. And I was selected.
Then the shopping started. The excitement hit. I’ll get to have REAL adult conversations where I don’t refer to myself in the third person. No repeating myself twenty times a day and no translating toddler speak to the cashier in Target. I’ll even get to eat my lunch without sharing with a screeching toddler, mouth open at the ready. Coffee warm? What IS that?! I won’t know what to do with myself. I will also be starving for dinner as I’m walking out of the office, but I do need to lose a few kilos so maybe it’s a good thing.
Anyway, I’ve not blogged for a while and I just got the urge, and I’m finally not so time poor anymore. You see, I’ve managed to sail through three weeks’ worth of uni readings and week one hasn’t even finished yet. This is the beginning of my new life. My life as someone who enjoys what they do, someone who understands that bullies pick on those who they are threatened by. I was never deserving of the treatment I endured in the past, but I won’t let it shape my future. Because the future is mine, and I won’t give him the satisfaction of letting him be a part of it.