Who the hell am I?

I was at a dinner party the other night and because I was drinking, I can’t even remember how we got on the subject of writing. I must have mentioned writing something because the next thing I heard was, “Oh, so you’re a writer?” What? No. I mumbled something about Human Resources and waited for the subject to change.

That got me thinking about labels and presumptions. I sometimes run but I am not a runner. I have owned and ridden horses but I am not a rider. Some yoga poses help my back but I am not a yogi. I’ve been writing since elementary school but I am definitely not a writer.

As I prepared for my move to Mexico, I decided I wouldn’t even think about work until after the first of the year. However, my resume was updated within a couple days of *finally* having wifi. I couldn’t help myself. Now I’m kind of stressing about just exactly what I will do. Perhaps the most logical course of action would be to look for a remote Human Resources position or do some consulting. Accounting is always a good fallback since I’ve been doing that for decades. But really? It truly is as boring as it sounds.

I just happen to be surrounded by creative people. These are people who have identities. They have won awards. I am not one of them. I’m the person who makes sure everyone gets paid accurately and on time. I create budgets and forecasts. I’m the person who impatiently waits for the creative types to get their shit together. I am painfully aware of the difference.

Leaving the US was to some an enormous leap of faith. People think I’m batshit crazy but it still feels like the sane thing to do. Now I wonder if I have another seemingly unsafe choice to make. I’ve spent a lot of time defining who I am not. This may be my chance to finally decide who I am.

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