On this day last year, I was recovering from a dreadful case of the flu that had kept me indoors for the better part of a week. As a result, when my 37th birthday rolled around, I was wobbly on my feet and more than a little washed out. It wasn’t exactly the happiest of birthdays, more so because I was seriously contemplating quitting my job at the time.
Fast forward to a year later: I’ve been at my current job for nearly a month and am loving every second of it. While my legs ache from the ruinous daily commute which seems to get worse as the year draws to a close (and the Moron of Malacanang keeps blaming people left and right for the idiocies of his own ), I actually feel a whole lot better than I did a month ago when I was close to a nervous breakdown at a job where I felt belittled and taken for granted. I can smile more sincerely and I can laugh loudly and delightedly.
My days are busier, but I don’t find the work cumbersome or frustrating. My creativity is given wings where I am and I have been more productive, churning out advertorials, print ads, and whole campaigns. The people I work with have an openness to them, a rather blunt-faced honesty, and a wickedly fun sense of humour. It is, to be honest, quite a change from long hours spent with people who are both relentlessly pushy and freakishly paranoid, the sort of people who will tell you not to trust anyone, people who will be friends with you when you’re facing each other but will happily assassinate your person the second you turn your back.
I don’t know, of course, what the future brings. No matter how many times I gaze at the lines in my palms or shuffle and read my now extremely well-worn Rider-Waite Tarot deck, I know I won’t get all the answers. But I will take life a day at a time and savour each experience to the full – and take big, appreciative bites of what the world has to offer me.