There is an opening at the local DV advocacy. Two of the staff told me to apply.
My heart sang all afternoon, thinking I could do this for a living instead of as a hobby. Then I started to cry, torn between what I want to do and what I already do. I wish I could do both. But both are full time.
I love my job. The work is not challenging or fun, but I do it really well and I love the people I work for and work with. I don’t want to leave them looking for someone who can handle my workload. I don’t want to miss the company Christmas party. My job is no stress. I stress out, anyway, but imagine how much worse my stress would be working with traumatized people day in and day out who are hanging onto every word I say. The burnout is super high. Only one woman there has managed to stay longer than a year. There has been a new advocate every year since I got here.
I don’t know what the pay would be. Probably comparable or more than what I make. Which is well below the poverty level. It would not bother me to lose a little income, I know how to make do.
What if the stress made me less available to my children? What if I am once again robbing myself of a fantastic opportunity because I am comfortable where I am and too afraid to move?
I wanted to do this after I got my degree. Years from now.
I am so paralyzed by hope and fear that I can hardly breathe. I know this feeling. Ultimately I will do nothing.