Sometimes all you need is to get to that breaking point, that lowest of the lows, for you to start making some real changes to your life. Those have happened to me after getting my heart broken and multiple times now because of jobs.
Great things have come out of them in the past. Singing, for one, because my parents were fighting too much. Getting through to a B-school of my choice, because my IT job felt like an everyday nervous breakdown. 2009, the most creative year of my life, because I had to do everything in my power to keep my mind from obsessing over this one person. And even meeting my now husband, just at the time I lost all faith in men.
What I’m most thankful for is that I’ve always been able to channelize my anger or sadness to create something beautiful. I don’t hate my bosses that they were terrible leaders at a time when I needed their professional help the most (and vocally so). Eventually, they got me to a point where I stopped questioning their competence but started questioning why I was so miserable. Why was only *I* miserable? Everybody else seemed to be dealing with it just fine, including the guy who was humiliated in every single team meeting. Is it ME? I was working against my wishes for someone else’s financial gain, while my own dreams were untouched. If I *have* to feel discomfort every single day, shouldn’t I rather be doing it for my own self? Should I be thanking them for this self-realisation?
Now, it’s not like I *never* enjoyed working. Marketing allowed me to be creative and analytical at the same time. It took me close to ad films, music festivals, content, fun colleagues and things that kept my interest up for most parts.
Thus, I gave my last job more than a few chances. I even waited till appraisal time to see if the bonus, increment and promotion could compensate for my unhappiness.
And when that beautiful text came, crediting my account with unfathomable amount of money, my only happiness came from the fact that I could finally pay off my education loan. And be free. Free to risk, for the first time in my life.
The only question was - what was I going to do now? Heh, I was 17 again.
I had to start from scratch. Music probably only pays Vishal Dadlani’s bills, and that too because he makes Bollywood music. (My aunty is right in a way) And I’m not special. You’re not special, Archita. The universe owes you nothing.
So when my husband suggested Voice Overs, it was almost like “Hey, why didn’t *I* think of that?”. (I have to admit, it seemed a lot easier than it turned out to be.) Took me half a dozen phone calls with people in the field to decide that that might be what I could do.
The first thing everyone told me that being on your own is tough. One has to be mentally prepared to make very little money, constantly network and have a partner who will always support you no matter what. At least 2 years to get anywhere, everyone said.
I thought I had made up my mind, but this was very difficult to digest. For the first time since I was 21, I started to make money that I considered more than enough and I was gonna quit *now*? I did nothing else for 2-3 weeks but cry and kill myself with anxiety. Start from the bottom, all over again?!
And always raised to be risk-averse, I changed my mind yet again and started looking at job openings. There were at least two opportunities I could’ve grabbed and I probably would’ve even been happy there, but for how long? 6 months tops? Then what, back to square one. I've already had 30 years of putting things off.
NO! YOU’RE NOT DOING THIS! GIVE YOURSELF A CHANCE! How long will you run?
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