if it's meant to be, part 3

The Trading Post. I was assigned to work in the Trading Post.

Perks: unfettered access to popcorn, slushies, cookies & soda. Moderate air conditioning in some places. Private bathroom. Occasional trips to town to pick up merchandise.

Disadvantages: Neurotically counting money and inventory on a daily basis. Not a program area.


I never would have chosen to work at the Trading Post (despite the excellent perks), but I had the best summer. My initial contract was for 3 weeks, but I ended up coming back for another week at the end of the summer because I was having so much fun (and apparently I had convinced the director that I was doing useful things).

Camp is my happy place. It is the place that I feel most like myself. If I could live at camp all year long, I would. And the people that work at camp are my kind of people. I freaking love camp.

The Trading Post director quickly became the best friend I never knew I was missing in my life. Midway through our first week of working together, he pointed out that I wasn't supposed to be there. If things had gone the way I thought they would, I would have been at Philmont and would have been at camp for only an hour or two to drop off and pick up my son.

What is meant to be, anyway? Was I actually supposed to go to Philmont? Or was I supposed to work at camp, all along?  Would I have had an amazing time at Philmont, or would I have been miserable? Would I have been assigned to work at the Trading Post if I had been hired back in December?

I have no doubt that I was meant to be at camp this summer. I don't know if I will make it to Philmont in the future, or if I will work at camp again. But my heart is overwhelmed with gratitude for the serendipity that landed me exactly where I needed to be for the summer of 2018.

Letting go of a dream

I'm stuck holding on to a dream, and I'm not sure if it's time to let that dream die or if I'm just in a long dormant phase. -Words of wisdom, from myself, circa late January 2017.

It's been a month and a half since I resigned, and for the most part, it's been good. I've done some subbing, took an amazing trip to visit my brother in Hawaii, taken up yoga, and had time to work on sewing projects.

The night before I left for Hawaii, I saw a job posting through a Facebook page I follow. It was a program assistant position in Elon's counseling department, something that I would enjoy doing and felt I was well qualified for. And I probably would have ignored it, had the tenants of my lovely blue house in Gibsonville not given notice that they would be moving out mid-September.

(Spoiler alert: I didn't ignore it)

I stayed up until 2 am revising my resume and cover letter to impulsively apply for a job.

I can feel you shaking your head in disapproval, dear reader. It's okay. I'm doing it, too.

You've seen me do this before, right?

I applied for a job to escape my unhappiness. I was literally trying to run away, albeit to a house and community that I loved.

Fast forward through an unexpected phone interview with a 6 hour time difference while I was in Hawaii and a Skype interview, once I returned home, which meant I was one of the top two candidates.

I didn't get the job.

I found this out as I was driving to North Carolina to check my tenants out, all the time wondering if I'd be checking myself back into that house a week later.

I kind of knew. I didn't hear back from them the day after the other candidate's interview, so I mentally prepared myself for the fact that it had been offered to someone else. It wasn't a surprise, but it was a disappointment.

This was the second time that I was so close to a job that I thought was within my grasp, and the exact same scenario played out.

Is it time to let go of the dream? Initially, that's how it felt: I am not meant to work at Elon again. That door is closed. Move on.

Here's the thing, though: working at Elon, although it is something I love and can do well, is not the dream.

Working at Elon is an easy way out, and I want an easy way out.

I want someone to give me a reason to leave.

I don't know if moving back to North Carolina would make me happy. Deep down, I'm pretty sure it would not. I have uncovered a habit of falling back on things I have pursued in the past as things that I should still continue to pursue, without questioning whether I want those things now.

Now. 

I am a different person now than I was when I graduated from college, when I got married, when I taught middle school, when I stayed home with young children and lived on one meager income, when I homeschooled, when I lived in North Carolina. I have grown and changed, and I need to realize that my old dreams and ambitions are security blankets that you have to eventually stop carrying around.