Today is Sunday, the 4th of January, 2009. I realise I could have read that from the dateline above; I only mention it because the days are drawing ever closer to D-Day.
As schools nationwide open tomorrow, I am forced to face the overwhelming weight of my decision. On the one hand, I am certain this is the right move—I do not have the heart for the vocation offered, nor am I prepared to mediate a system I do not believe in. On the other hand, these are tough times; to turn my back on the promise and security of a consistent pay packet seems like snubbing a divine privilege that have till now intervened in providing me with comfort. I fully expect some form of karmic retribution later in life; in fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if I was smote upon on this sofa right this very moment for sheer impertinence.
…
Phew! Nothing. (Yet).
I have 7 days before I am asked to report for employment.
My future hangs on my decision—I could either be gainfully employed or go against the grain and forge my own path in life.
The last time I had to make a decision, I faltered and let others decide for me. Had I strengthened my resolve and insisted on a different education, I would not be in this precarious position. The fault is entirely mine; I have to own up. Besides, wasn’t it J.K. Rowling who said “…there is an expiry date for blaming parents”?
And here I am again—at crossroads. ‘Overwhelmed’ does not provide an adequate descriptor for my emotional state. ‘Hysterical, nauseated and disoriented’ is a little closer to home, though still not quite apt. My body feels like it is collapsing upon itself, crushing my lungs and constricting airflow, while unbidden tears spring to my eyes (yet again!). Unfortunately, this isn’t an isolated incident—every time I think/talk about a future in this profession not my calling, this happens. During practicum, it occurred with such alarming regularity, I feared I had sunk into a depression so deep I would never be able to see light again. My body itself showed its rejection through numerous ailments, with the result that I had to go back to school for an extra week (when everyone else was done) in order to complete my practicum.
In all honesty, I think my reaction has less to do with my default vocation than it is about the fear that my life is no longer my own. Ever since I put down my signature some six-odd years ago on a piece of contract, I had not been able to make a decision which was entirely my own. I don’t mean those daily choices like choosing a bowl of tomyam over a plate of kuey teow—but decisions like university placement, courses I’d like to take and a major of my own choosing. When I put down my signature, it was like I had sealed my soul with it.
I had put up with this for six years. I hated every single day of it, and hated myself even more for having brought it upon myself. I am not prepared to lose a decade of my life (I am bonded for a minimum of 4 years). I don’t want to regret anything anymore. Regret is possibly the worst feeling in the world—worse still than grief or bereavement. Its that question: What if…; a referent to an alternate outcome had we carved a different path—a path that could have lead to happiness.
I don’t think I can put myself through that again.
And so I’ve decided.
But with this decision comes serious implications. Having never really learnt how to swim, I am now thrown into the deep end, without support, without a lifeline; awash in a sea of uncertainty. I think they call it unemployment. Or maybe it was recession? I am one among many—just another individual seeking employment in a time where jobs are scarce.
I am terrified—and at the same time, exhilarated. The world seems a brighter place; there’s so much to do! so much to see! I could spend my days catching up on Sartre, reading Michio Kaku’s Physics of the Impossible, relearning Japanese, painting, writing (!) while sending out queries about jobs. I will have to intrude on the kindness of my parents for a while longer, but surely they’d prefer their own daughter to the empty shell of one?
Though some people view my decision as a death sentence for my future (oh, ye faithless ones!), I see it as the kiss of life for my dying soul.
Worry not, I will be fine. I am free. I am alive.
The only obligation you have in this life is to be true to yourself.
You are so right, Richard Bach. So right.
As schools nationwide open tomorrow, I am forced to face the overwhelming weight of my decision. On the one hand, I am certain this is the right move—I do not have the heart for the vocation offered, nor am I prepared to mediate a system I do not believe in. On the other hand, these are tough times; to turn my back on the promise and security of a consistent pay packet seems like snubbing a divine privilege that have till now intervened in providing me with comfort. I fully expect some form of karmic retribution later in life; in fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if I was smote upon on this sofa right this very moment for sheer impertinence.
…
Phew! Nothing. (Yet).
I have 7 days before I am asked to report for employment.
My future hangs on my decision—I could either be gainfully employed or go against the grain and forge my own path in life.
The last time I had to make a decision, I faltered and let others decide for me. Had I strengthened my resolve and insisted on a different education, I would not be in this precarious position. The fault is entirely mine; I have to own up. Besides, wasn’t it J.K. Rowling who said “…there is an expiry date for blaming parents”?
And here I am again—at crossroads. ‘Overwhelmed’ does not provide an adequate descriptor for my emotional state. ‘Hysterical, nauseated and disoriented’ is a little closer to home, though still not quite apt. My body feels like it is collapsing upon itself, crushing my lungs and constricting airflow, while unbidden tears spring to my eyes (yet again!). Unfortunately, this isn’t an isolated incident—every time I think/talk about a future in this profession not my calling, this happens. During practicum, it occurred with such alarming regularity, I feared I had sunk into a depression so deep I would never be able to see light again. My body itself showed its rejection through numerous ailments, with the result that I had to go back to school for an extra week (when everyone else was done) in order to complete my practicum.
In all honesty, I think my reaction has less to do with my default vocation than it is about the fear that my life is no longer my own. Ever since I put down my signature some six-odd years ago on a piece of contract, I had not been able to make a decision which was entirely my own. I don’t mean those daily choices like choosing a bowl of tomyam over a plate of kuey teow—but decisions like university placement, courses I’d like to take and a major of my own choosing. When I put down my signature, it was like I had sealed my soul with it.
I had put up with this for six years. I hated every single day of it, and hated myself even more for having brought it upon myself. I am not prepared to lose a decade of my life (I am bonded for a minimum of 4 years). I don’t want to regret anything anymore. Regret is possibly the worst feeling in the world—worse still than grief or bereavement. Its that question: What if…; a referent to an alternate outcome had we carved a different path—a path that could have lead to happiness.
I don’t think I can put myself through that again.
And so I’ve decided.
But with this decision comes serious implications. Having never really learnt how to swim, I am now thrown into the deep end, without support, without a lifeline; awash in a sea of uncertainty. I think they call it unemployment. Or maybe it was recession? I am one among many—just another individual seeking employment in a time where jobs are scarce.
I am terrified—and at the same time, exhilarated. The world seems a brighter place; there’s so much to do! so much to see! I could spend my days catching up on Sartre, reading Michio Kaku’s Physics of the Impossible, relearning Japanese, painting, writing (!) while sending out queries about jobs. I will have to intrude on the kindness of my parents for a while longer, but surely they’d prefer their own daughter to the empty shell of one?
Though some people view my decision as a death sentence for my future (oh, ye faithless ones!), I see it as the kiss of life for my dying soul.
Worry not, I will be fine. I am free. I am alive.
The only obligation you have in this life is to be true to yourself.
You are so right, Richard Bach. So right.
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