Side Quests and Second Chances
Photo courtesy of Gratisography
Wednesday, October 15th, 2025I got an email about a preliminary interview for the job I applied for. I don’t want the job. I want the leverage.
But every time I work on interview prep - doing more of the same, this time with feeling - it makes me want to strangle myself with a hangtag.
Still, I said yes. Because you don’t pass on an opportunity, even when it’s not one you think you want. You just never know.
That’s how I got where I am now.
So, I’ll prep and I’ll smile and I’ll grit my teeth and tell them I can’t start until January. And if they offer it, and I don’t want it, I can always say no.
It pays less and it’s more responsibility. I don’t really want to move back to a city. I don’t really want to move further from family. I don’t really want to deal with moving to another country.
I want to move to that house. At least I did. The house sold before I even got to see it. Cue the disappointment.
So now I’m prepping for an interview for a job I don’t want, mourning a house I never had, and wondering what I’m supposed to do with my life now.
It’s not that the house was perfect. When we drove by, the location was even sketchier than expected.
But I had visions—coffered ceilings, skylights, and an open balcony to the main level. Dogs playing in the backyard, Willow treeing a squirrel and Wally herding chickens. The outbuilding turned wellness retreat for meditation and yoga. The garage, a place to paint and sew and me being brave enough to be bad at all of it.
What I really want is to see what I can do when I’m left alone long enough to find out.
It takes a lot of courage to walk away from something that’s working.
I make good money. I’m good at what I do. But I’m restless—itchy-skin, grit-my-teeth restless. And I know if I stay in this job, I’ll stagnate. I’m already stagnating. I’m already operating with a chip on my shoulder. I don’t want to be here.
I want to take a leap. I want mine to be the only opinion that matters. I want to get so sick of my own goddamned bullshit that I break through my own walls.
I just don’t want it to bankrupt me. I need to find—or create—a source of income before I find a house. Every time I think about it, I feel my stomach twist: having a mortgage, maintaining a house, wielding a snowblower. The fear of foreclosure is real and, to me, that would feel like failure.
If I have to fail, I want to fail privately - not publicly, not performatively.
When my nephew called my life “a bunch of side quests,” I knew he was right. My life has been one shiny object after another—half survival, half curiosity. I’ve crossed the country for degrees, jobs, relationships, and clean slates.
I’ve spent 95% of my life - I did the math - living under the influence of other people, trusting their judgment more than my own. Crushing and twisting myself into shapes that worked better for them, being bombarded by their words and ideas, and losing myself in the process.
The truth is, I’ve lived much of my life as the person I thought someone else wanted me to be. I can count on both hands the number of times I’ve truly done something for myself. And every single time, it was the right thing for me. I know what works for me, even if others don’t agree with it.
Unfortunately, It’s always had to feel like a matter of life or death for me to make those choices.
I know the house selling is an indication that it wasn’t the right time, or the right neighborhood, or the right house. The right one will come along, in the right place, at the right time. But still, I’m disappointed. I was so excited about it. And I also knew I wasn’t ready, and the timing wasn’t right.
I’ve always believed the universe doesn’t give me anything I can’t handle - which means right now, I can’t handle it.
So I’m going to give the interview my best shot. Not because I want it, but because I’m practicing saying yes to movement. There are always lateral options. Maybe it forces shifts in my current role. Maybe it opens other doors elsewhere. Maybe it’s just proof I can still push forward when my original plan collapses.
I became a patternmaker because I heard of patternmaking in a job interview for a role I didn’t get after college. I interviewed for my current job because my partner got an offer in the same area after I’d dismissed the one I received. I moved to Seattle because I’d already packed up and moved to Vermont the week before and I recognized Seattle was the better option.
So many of the pivotal shifts in my life came shortly after a tiny glimpse of foreshadowing - They were a second chance, if you will. I suspect that’s what this house has been.
If I want my life to change, I need to change my life.
I’ll be keeping my eye out for another second chance.
Stay Gritty