Being Honest with Myself: Part I

I wrote this post in June or July during my 4-month stint at Kimberly-Clark, where I worked as a Consumer Services Specialist. I took calls from concerned consumers about the quality of Huggies Diapers and Pull-Ups. A lot has changed since then and I'll be more than happy to catch you up. But here it is, as it was written in it's original form:

According to Big Boss Lady, it’s okay that I’m not happy taking diaper calls. I am a temp, and it’s okay if I’m only here because I need the money. Considering how miserable I’ve been, this is great news. I was to the point of chanting in the mirror every morning, “It is my job to answer the phone and I love my job.” I think it was Abraham Lincoln who said that we can control our emotions? Allow me to enlighten you: This is codswallop. Well, maybe you can to a point, but the statement is a relatively large amount of steaming crock. You can abate your anger, but you can’t really make it go away. You cannot convince yourself to love someone or something. You can blink back tears, but you can't help what brings them to your eye.

Let me break my situation down for you: I’ve never lost a close family member. I’ve never lost a friend to suicide. No one in my immediate family is suffering from a serious illness. I have a roof over my head and food in my fridge. And yes, I'm incredibly aware how fortunate I am. Someday I’m sure I will get a reality check, but until then, this is my life, and these are the things that are important to me and have the ability to upset, fascinate, bewilder, and intoxicate me

So far, I’ve had 9 jobs that I couldn’t stand and I’m beginning to lose hope that there’s anything out there that’ll keep me happy on the regular. It’s unrealistic to think that any job I have will make me happy daily, but I would like to go home at the end of the day and not think, “Only four more hours till I fall asleep and do it all over again,” which leads to stress and tears.

I've decided to be honest with myself: I was never meant to answer phones. I have no patience for people who think they have problems and really don’t. One faulty diaper out of a box of 174 isn’t going to break your bank. I assure you all: I'm aware times are tight. Additionally, I actually don’t need a life story and a printout of your financials to justify sending you coupons.

What I do need is to discover what I’m passionate about, and I think it’s long past time. For years I have been adamant about not having much skill… I love to sing, but I’m no Xtina. I love to write, but I’m no Rowling. I love (judging the director’s decisions in) movies, but I’m no Christopher Nolan. I love cars, but I'm no Jeremy Clarkson. And I love to travel, but I’m no millionaire. Last time I checked, I was just Kelly. But that doesn’t mean I have nothing to offer society. I need more than to just be passionate about these things; I need to find a way to incorporate them into my life. But nothing is that easy. Who is going to let an English major with no minor (and serious delusions of grandeur) into their office based solely on the amount of passion I exhibit? No one. Which makes me not want to try.

I can't let that get to me, though. I’m breaking the cycle. I won’t let me bring myself down. I’ve got to try, and I need to start somewhere.