Jobby Job

My husband has the full time jobby job in our family. He has the benefits that give us a safety net and the salary that pays our bills and the perks that make our quality of life possible. In some ways he has had that role since the beginning and in other ways it has shifted drastically in the last year. When we met eight years ago, I made a decent living, but I was also a consultant who didn't plan for tax season and had a mountain of debt accumulated over years of school, adventure, and living a life I couldn't actually afford. I didn't have benefits, some of my salary should have been being socked away for Uncle Sam, and the only perk I had were unlimited burgers {to be honest, I actually really miss that perk}.

After a year together, we got rid of debt mountain and another two years later I dropped my full-time consulting job. {Whether I dropped it or it dropped me is still subject to which side of the bed I get up on in the morning.} That's when I started my career as a life coach. Anyone who knows me would tell you that I've been an unofficial coach for most of my life. I've always been on the shortlist for a quick pep talk, an inspiring story, some fierce accountability, or a bit of meandering pontificating. My business began fast and furious. I had a full roster of clients and my income started to resemble something of what it did before I said goodbye to the burgers. 

I would like to say that what happened next was intentional. That when we decided to move abroad and start a new life in Jordan, I purposely cleaned house vocationally. In reality, it happened organically over the course of our first months here. Some coaching packages wrapped up naturally, some I put an end to, and a few ditched me - one rather dramatically, I might add. I stopped engaging new clients and the introductory calls disappeared. I looked up from the hustle and found something surrounding me that I hadn't seen in awhile - or possibly ever. Space. All around me there was space. Space to explore. Space to question. Space to freak out. Space to stop. Space to fill. 

And fill I did. Sometimes with intention. Sometimes without an ounce of it. At the best of times with curiosity. And at the worst with anxiety. I got to know my new city. I started learning a language {enthusiastic plug to do something you're terrible at}. I wrote Befriend Your Brain. I read. I volunteered. I momed. I wifed. Most of all, I stopped. And if you know anything about me, that is one hell of a feat. 

Then at some point, I started again. I started jobbing. I called in new clients. Befriend Your Brain groups filled. I started looking for, and found, an entry way into humanitarian work. I got curious about how all the pieces of me can make impact. My pause taught me too much to relay in full in this short space, but one nugget I'm walking away with is that life is what you fill it with and since I can, I'm going to fill mine with what matters.