Your Own

June 13, 2016 •  life

There are days when going to work isn’t an appealing option. This is not a comment on Shopify; generally I enjoy coming into the office and look forward to Mondays (TGIM). There are not many people who can say that and I’m grateful for the opportunity that I’ve been given. There’s just something else that has always been somewhat unsettling for me.

Lately I’ve been seeing through the launch of a project I’ve been working on for longer than I’m happy to admit, scaling the Product Design team in Toronto, learning the intricacies of management and understanding how to make use of my strengths and weaknesses. Day-to-day, it’s okay and sometimes fun. Some days, it’s not okay. I like to imagine that at the rip old age of 27 I can control my thoughts better and this is more or less correct, yet I still occasionally let the mundanity of life get to me and my brain implodes inward.

I have been working for a really long time. I took on my first job when I was thirteen and I’ve been more or less employed since then. The one job that stands out to me still, and will probably stand out to me forever was my first business. There’s nothing comparable to your own. It’s yours. You take responsibility for it, nurture it, and its failure or success is on you.

There’s a year of my life in which I don’t have strong memories of friendships or events unless they were all related to my business. That year sped by and even though I clocked in eleven hour days seven days a week between my full-time job and my full-time business, it never really bothered me. When my Dad told me I looked tired over Christmas dinner it came as a surprise. I didn’t feel tired; I felt invigorated.

In restrospect, closing my business was the right choice for me at the time. I enjoy the career I have because of that decision. There are days, however, when reminiscing about it casts doubt upon where I stand now. This could be because I’m currently sitting far from home and this displacement is giving me perspective, or I am overthinking my barely-lived 20-something existence, or I am simply hungry and am looking for things to be upset about. It’s hard to tell.

For now I’m hoping to calm my impatience and seek lessons which aren’t immediately clear. When I’m ready to do it again, I’ll know, or at least that’s what I tell myself.

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