Have you ever had one of those days where your life just feels off balance? Like, you just can’t seem to get the proper footing, no matter how hard you try?
That’s how I felt one afternoon, after leaving the required marketing course for my Publishing Program. I quickened my pace to avoid my classmates behind me. Some days I’d go to lunch with them, but on this day, I was just not in the mood. I felt so out of whack.
Instead of following the path to the cafeteria, I opted to take the walking trail toward the lake shore behind the school. I guessed my problem had to do with the fact that with each passing day, we were nearing the end of our program. I was starting to panic. I’d quit my job for this. I had zero plans going forward. I’d sent out a slew of resumes to everything possible, in attempt to hit the publishing ground running. I just wished I had somewhere to run to.
I misstepped and stumbled forward sending a few pebbles scattering. On the one foot, I’d applied to a bunch of marketing internships. Marketing in general seemed like a lot of fun, but I wasn’t sure I was cut out for it. I wasn’t creative like the other students in my class. I never had any of these big exciting ideas. And to be honest, marketing seemed kind of exhausting.
On the other, there was editing. Editing I was good at. As an English teacher for six years and a devoted reader, editing just came easily to me. But in class, I still felt like I didn’t know what I was doing. I was shocked to find out that I’d received the highest mark on our faux letter-to-the-author developmental editing assignment. I’d shocked my teacher right back by not applying to any of the editing internships. I hated editing.
But what do you do if you do if you don’t like doing the one thing you’re good at?
I kicked a rock off the path in frustration. That’s when I noticed how dusty my right boot was in comparison to my left. It didn’t seem possible for one boot to get so much dirtier than the other. Slowly, I put both my feet together and looked straight down.
My right boot was not only dustier, but it was pointier at the toe, and about a quarter of an inch shorter than the left.
Realization turned my cheeks an abashed shade of pink. It was the real-life version of the age-old nightmare. I’d left the house wearing boots from two different pairs.
Talk about being unbalanced.