I’m Dusting Off My Boots

There is a rough conflict going on inside of my body. It’s my heart versus my head and they are beginning to really hate one another. The issue at the heart of the conflict…work. Makes sense, right? Remember when we were kids and everyone asked us what we wanted to be when we grew up? Our minds would wander into operating rooms, classrooms, rockets and labs. We were suddenly thrust into a rustic Western town, our duster blowing behind us like the tumbleweed and we were the sheriff running the rascals out of town. As children we were limitless, our lives spread out before us just waiting to be claimed. We could be anything, after all, mom said so.
Fast forward 30 years and we are waking up in cubes of woven walls, farmed out with hundreds of other working drones. Our dreams and hopes dashed into 40+ hour workweeks, our only solace is happy hour at Frank’s Tavern on Thursday nights and a mediocre paycheck once a week. We type our little hearts out, dress in our best business casual and just pray that someone in upper management will notice all the new ideas we have implemented and processes we’ve improved. In the hallway we hope our higher ups will at least make eye contact and we are left walking past them pretending we were waving and smiling at someone else.  
How in the hell did we get here? I have no clue, I have tried books, blogs and professionals. I have looked to social media gurus who have become successful entrepreneurs simply doing as they say “what they want to”. At what point did we stop being the idealistic children who never considered the bill that came with college tuition for that degree? And in what year did we trade following our passion for simply providing for our needs? We are no longer living and thriving, but we are making someone else rich and giving them the ability to go and do everything they wanted to do as children. For ourselves, we have the utility bill stamped paid and maybe pizza night this Friday if we skip lunch for three days at the office cafeteria.
There must be choices, right? It is never too late to reinvent yourself or pursue a new goal, because that sign at the mall said so. Inspirational quotes on distressed pieces of wood could never be wrong. So we need to either accept that this is the life we have chosen and succumb to the mundane insanity. Or we engage ourselves with a courageous intervention. As adults we still have that small child inside that yearns to play with the fizzy stuff in beakers. We just have to let him or her out and set up the experiment.  
So maybe it doesn’t happen overnight, I mean if you did not finish that chemistry degree then you will have to return to school. If you yearn to heal your fellow humans all day long you may need to give up part of that paycheck. So at what point do we tell ourselves that we are no longer living but just existing? At what point do we dust off the resume and truly decide to enjoy our remaining years instead of being herded into the cubicle farm another 15 years? What is really worth more to us, living our passion day in and out or being handed that cheap watch as a token of appreciation for nearly half of our lives? It is a question that is worth asking…and answering.  

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