I knew what I wanted.I wanted the elevator ascent to a brightly-lit office suite with my name on the door. I desired the personal, respectful greeting as I pulled open the glass doors. I wished for the designer shoes, sleek business suits, and unexpected accents of bold jewelry.
I knew what I wanted.
I wanted the importance, the challenge, and the authority.
When I was in college, I visualized my rise to the top of the business world. In one graphics design course, I created a complete stationery set for my would-be company. I typed my double-spaced essays and bubbled in my scantron sheets with a #2 pencil; and I did so with excess confidence. I knew I was good enough, smart enough. And I knew what I wanted; to tackle the world, smash through glass ceilings, and show “them” what I had inside.
Fast-forward eleven years. At the office, my business card shows the same job title I had five years ago. Four different employers are listed on my resume. Assistants and interns I once helped to train are leaping over me.
But my unfulfilled goal? Is just fine with me.
I traded the glory – and countless hours of office work – for my family. Now I view my reflection in the elevator door only two days each week. There is no view from my office – no window, actually. I own zero business suits, but countless tees and jeans. My name does not grace a country club member list, but my wallet is filled with open play passes at various kid-friendly gyms and indoor playgrounds.
I have no doubt about my abilities. If I threw my entire heart, soul, and brain into the business world, I would find success. But today? I no longer need that definition of success to feel fulfilled. BalancingMama – that is my success. My identity. 100% real with no regrets.
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This week's prompt: Write a memoir piece about an unfulfilled goal or a broken resolution, beginning with the words, “I knew what I wanted”.
