Great Expectations

Sometimes I feel as though there was a something that I was supposed to do with my life, and I didn't do it.

Wait. That's not entirely accurate.

Sometimes I feel as though there were a lot of people expecting that I would do something with my life, and I haven't done what they thought I would do.

I've been thinking about this a lot lately. In an effort not to be completely depressed about being unemployed, I decided to consider it an opportunity. A blessing, even. A chance to look at what's out there for work and think about what kind of work would make me really happy.

What I discovered surprised me. The answers to the question "What fills Yellie's soul" were not what I was expecting. It turns out that what I love the most is very specific ... and also something that I have been unwilling to allow myself to do.

It's silly, really, the way I put the idea of happiness on the back burner when it came to career choices.  I wanted things from employment: money, benefits, security, prestige. Being happy and fulfilled fell off the list a long time ago, because being successful meant having those other things on the list.

Right?

But after a plethora of jobs, I realize this: the amount of money you bring home doesn't matter if your job makes you feel sick to your stomach on a daily basis. Having a fancy title is useless if your job stresses you out so much that your hair is falling out.

I've come to understand that the ONLY thing that I am supposed to do with my life is live it well, by my own definitions.  That's it. That's the thing I'm supposed to do.

That's what success looks like.

I hope we are all successful.

What's In a Name

I had a birthday last week. I turned ...

... a year older! HAHAHAHAHAHA!

Just kidding. I turned forty-one.

I don't mind being forty-one. I don't actually mind getting older because the alternative is to no longer shuffle along this particular plane of the mortal coil, and I like it here quite a lot. Plus, there were a few times in my life when I thought I might not make it this far, but here I am. Still plugging along.

It's all good, is what I'm saying. Well, it's almost all good.

It's good-ish.

Here's the bit that is stressing me out more than it should be: my name.

You might be wondering, well, what's wrong with your name? The answer, of course, is NOTHING. There is nothing wrong with my name. I have a great name.

It's just that very few people use it. These days, I mostly get called Yellie by, um, everyone. I don't think there's anything wrong with this, because I actually refer to myself as Yellie most of the time. I am very rarely Danielle, even to myself.

But.

As I continue to look for employment (HELLO PLEASE HIRE ME), I have been writing my name -- my actual name, obvs -- on applications. It looks nice there (IT WOULD LOOK NICER ON AN OFFICE DOOR THOUGH PLEASE HIRE ME), and it's a solid name, a dignified one.

"Yellie" is, perhaps, not so dignified. It is, maybe, juvenile and silly.

This is what is stressing me out. Am I too old to still be a Yellie?

Help! Opinions are needed!