Old Navy top// Oakleigh Rose shorts c/o// Steve Madden shoes via Rack Room Shoes// Tory Burch bag// Heaven and Helfyre sunglasses/RoseWater Designs bracelet and ring c/o//Photo credit: Amy Hess Photography
I’ve written posts like this before but clearly it’s something I have and still struggle with. Because even at 28 years old, I still don’t answer confidently when someone asks what I do. Not everyone knows what blogging and social media is, so trying to explain it in 30 seconds to a random stranger or sometimes even your family can be a challenge. Everyone knows what a doctor, lawyer, teacher, etc do. But me? I have to explain like, 900 things in hopes they understand a sliver of what I’m talking about.
I absolutely LOVE writing; and from writing this here blog, I’ve learned that I also love social media. So while most of you know I’m a blogger, you might not know that I also work for a virtual assistant, write freelance articles, and manage social media for a local business. My schedule is absolutely insane, but I absolutely love it. Because for the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m excelling in a field where I’m meant to be.
When I chose my major in college, I chose it because I wanted to go into PR. And while I would still love a career in PR, it’s not as realistic now. Why? 1) I have two little kids and 2) I don’t live in a booming city where PR makes sense. I know, there’s a need for PR everywhere, but not the type of PR I wanted to do. I wanted to work for a sports organization or do something in fashion. Yeah, my little town in Georgia isn’t going to cut it for that.
But despite the struggles we’ve faced in this military lifestyle, hurdles we’ve had to overcome, and uncertainty with our future, I’ve done things at my own pace. I’ve found opportunities and when there weren’t any, I made my own. And that’s something I’m proud of. Because for the longest time, I felt like I couldn’t celebrate that because I didn’t have a “traditional job” and didn’t meet certain standards that I used to think meant success. But now I know that the satisfaction I feel and the progress I’ve made is success it it’s own way.
Not everyone can make six figures, live in a loft downtown, or walk the streets in Louboutins. Props to those who do, because I’m sure you worked your ass off to be there. But for those of us who had or chose to take different paths, it’s okay. We can be successful in our own way and we can measure success on our own terms. I may not make a ton of money, but I love what I do. And I’m excited about what the future holds. I’m thankful for the doors that have opened because of blogging and excited to see where else they may lead. I’m thankful for the time I get to spend with my babies, even when they drive me bat shit crazy and I wish I had a job outside of the home. Because the grass is always greener on the other side. Staying home and working outside of the home each bring their own struggles, and I try to remind myself of that when I’m having a hard day.
I never saw myself working while staying home with the kids. In fact, I never saw myself staying home. And even more so, I didn’t know I would have a kids/kids as fast as I did. But it happened. Life happened. And little did I know that this little hobby would turn into a career. That it would turn into something I would be proud of and something I would excel in.
This doesn’t mean I don’t doubt myself or wish I made more money (don’t we all?). But I’m getting there. Each day is a new day to be better than the last. To seize the day and find new opportunities. To push myself creatively and to learn something new. And that feeling of success? That feeling of being right where I’m supposed to be? Well that’s enough to remind me that it’s okay if I have to explain what I do or if others don’t think it’s a “real job”. We’re all in different situations with different circumstances. We all have different strengths and weaknesses. And at the end of the day, there’s room for every single one of us to succeed. We just have to want it and believe it. And it will happen.
