Comfort Zones Are Not Baller

Hello and welcome to Lessons From My First Month Of Legitimate Employment, Episode 1:
If You Are Not Happy In Your Job, Find A New One.

Good morning Starshine, and welcome to a glorious new era of stating the obvious and telling you how to live your life. Just like the old era, but this time I have a steady, career-based job, and as such feel more qualified than ever to chuck in my 2000 cents (that's still only $20, don't flatter yourself). Additionally, the fact I am required to repress my characteristically sophisticated linguistic urges whilst writing like a basic bitch from 9 to 6 for said steady, career-based job means I now have a whole bunch of pent up expressing to do, so here we are! A beautiful new mini-series.

First of all, I am aware that popping out of one job and into another is a hell of a lot more easily said than done, but it's also much more possible than it feels. I'm not suggesting you quit impulsively whenever you next have a bad day and blindly hope things work out (mainly speaking to my former self here), but if you don't feel like the position you're in now is going to benefit you in the long run, start trying to find another one. 

It's so easy to get stuck in a comfort zone regardless of whether or not you're actually happy there, and that comfort zone makes everything outside of it seem a little blurry. There was a point a few months ago when I was actually considering making significant life decisions around my retail job. Are you. fucking. kidding me. I hated retail. Like I REALLY hated retail, but my comfort zone was clouding my judgment in a way I can only describe as the feeling of not wanting to leave the warmth of your bed, even though you have something ridiculously exciting to do that day. Luckily, one of the things I've drilled into myself over the past few years is that comfort zones are not a productive place to be, so I forced myself to shatter it and oh my god I am so much happier than I ever would have been if I hadn't.

The job I have now isn't my ultimate life-long dream, but it's a hell of a lot closer than I was before, and for where I am at this moment in my life I couldn't be happier. Unless I were an international pop sensation. Or allowed to actually engage my literary and syntactic finesse instead of just chucking in the word 'fabulous' as frequently as possible but HEY. Nothing's perfect. And there is something oddly liberating about being required to write like a basic bitch five days a week. I am slightly concerned that it has begun to leak into my subconscious, but we'll deal with that another day, darling!

I'm kidding.

I'm not. That's my inner monologue now. That's who I've become. And I'm really sorry for what is almost certainly about to happen to my twitter account. #personalitycrisisgoals. Really though, as frustrating as it admittedly can be to have to work within restrictions I don't personally always feel are the best course of action, at the end of the day I'm working in an environment I like, doing things I generally enjoy and gaining experience that will actually benefit me in the long run. I'm not saying I didn't gain valuable skills in retail, but I doubt future employers are going to place quite as much weight as I personally think is deserved on how neatly I am able to fold and stack my overwhelmingly-neutral jumper collection. It's a hard knock life, but that's reality bby boo. Also I don't ever have to interact with the general public apart from via the internet and I get to sit down all day and the deliveroo options for our office are limitless. Priorities and perspective.

Now I am off to fulfil my daily quota of 'faaabulous' and 'darling', but I hope you are feeling fulfilled and challenged in a constructive way.
If not, check yoself and start scheming.