The Halfway Mark
A tale of my middle-aged metamorphous
I can't pinpoint the exact moment that the orderly and precise world of accounting began to lose its appeal. It had been such a sensible choice back in college. It was safe and comfortable- my debits always equaled my credits.
But, like Apolo Ono mid-race, my instincts told me it was time to make my move.
It was during the celebration of my 40th birthday – an event I dreaded more than the news I’d need a root canal - that I realized my life may have just surpassed the halfway mark. And career-wise, I’d been skating a race which no longer held my interest.
I’d still cross the finish line. But was it my best shot? Would there be any regrets?
The thought of changing careers was scary. I am not a risk taker. Besides, I’ve watched plenty of risk-taking Olympic speed skaters lose their footing and slam smack into a wall.
So I let my job dissatisfaction simmer.
Then one afternoon, out of the blue, I made a list with the heading, “What do I want to be now that I’m grown up?”
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