Wednesday, November 27, 2024
As Sophia and I walked our loop at Liberty Park, fall leaves crunching beneath our shoes, our conversation flowed as easily as our strides.
“You ever feel like everyone else figured their career out by the time they were thirty?” I asked, tugging my sleeve up to my elbows. “And here we are, still juggling different things just to cobble together a life?”
Sophia laughed—one of those short, sharp ones with more truth than humor. “Oh, totally. I’ve had more careers than I can count. I mean, I started in the tech industry. Silicon Valley. All the grind, none of the glory. Then I bailed and went to photography school. I’ve had, like… three different blogs. Tried to make those work. And now? I sling food and wine and take portraits of cats in bow ties. And I’m actually…happy. Go figure.”
I smiled. “I love that you own it.”
“Some days,” she said. “Other days I think, What the hell am I doing with my life?”
“Oh my God, same,” I said. “And can I tell you something that still bugs me to this day?” I looked over to make sure she was listening. She was.
“A few years back, I heard that some ‘friends’ of mine were talking behind my back, saying I didn’t really work. That I was just sort of…floating.”
Sophia made a disgusted noise. “Ugh. People love to judge what they don’t understand.”
“I was working,” I said, feeling my voice tighten. “At one point, I was teaching eighteen fitness classes a week. That’s not a job—it’s a full-body sacrifice. I also worked extra hours at the rec center, cleaning equipment and fixing bikes. Plus, I was running my own dog-walking business. And still trying to grow my editing work. I wasn’t sitting around eating bonbons. I even took a low-level job at a lab for six months because the editing business wasn’t growing as fast as I needed it to.”
Sophia shook her head. “That kind of hustle would break most people.”
“It wasn’t just that,” I added. “I even built this whole membership-based fitness platform for middle-aged women. Recorded dozens of workouts, put together the website, the billing system, everything. Hours of work. I poured my heart into it. It just never caught on. I eventually shut it down.”
“You tried,” Sophia said. “You created something. That’s more than most people ever do.”
“Yeah,” I said. “But the comments stuck with me. Like, because I wasn’t chained to a cubicle or collecting a corporate paycheck, it didn’t count. I was wasting my life and education, mooching off Steve. The fact is, I was in the rat race for a long time. I graduated from college and secured a respectable job in public relations. After about four years, I returned to pursue my master’s degree. I was managing editor of a magazine. I worked in PR for a small non-profit organization, and later, I held public affairs positions for two U.S. Cabinet members. It’s as if I used up all my stress reserves in my 20s and 30s. Now I want to enjoy my career, have a flexible schedule, and not feel like I’m on my way to an ulcer. Life is about more than work.”
Sophia let out a slow breath. “You know what the worst part is? I still hear it. I mean, I’m a waitress. And happy about it. I work with people I love. I have time for photography on the side. And still, some people talk to me like it’s a placeholder job until I figure things out. Like I didn’t already choose this.”
“I think we both have ADHD,” I said with a half-laugh. “Seriously. I bounce between ideas and passions as if it were my job. Sometimes I feel like I’m chasing every shiny object.”
Sophia grinned. “Same. Honestly, I think my attention span is wired to thrive in chaos. That’s probably why I’ve never stuck with just one thing. And honestly? I don’t want to.”
“Me neither. But I do want people to stop assuming my life has less value because it doesn’t look like theirs. Hell, if I could make money petting kittens, I’d do it in a heartbeat!”
We walked in silence for a bit, our feet falling in rhythm, the city humming softly around us.
“Here’s the thing,” Sophia said finally. “We found a way to build lives that let us be creative, free, and maybe a little unconventional. But they’re ours. I’d rather have a weird, patchwork life that fits than be miserable in one that looks ‘respectable’ on paper.”
I nodded, a little lighter somehow. “Yeah. Me too.”