eleven months ago, i quit my job (or career) of 10 years as an engineer. i told people that i was leaving to be a reiki person. that’s what i thought i was doing.

that summer, i had an epiphany. in my heart of hearts, i knew that i didn’t quit my job to be a reiki person. it wasn’t that i didn’t love reiki and didn’t want to share it with others – because i did and i do – just that it wasn’t the reason i left. reiki was a proxy. it was the reason i gave myself because the real reason would have been unacceptable.

except i didn’t know the real reason.

i was getting ready to open my etsy shop when i had the epiphany so i thought that maybe i left in order to do something related to photography. it made sense in a way. i love taking pictures more than almost anything and i would never ever in a million years have quit my job for it. i figured that must be it and moved on, but then in february, i had another epiphany – an epiphany that i am still processing.

it turns out that i didn’t quit my job for reiki or for photography or for any other make-a-living sort of thing. it turns out that i quit my job in order to learn how to rest and play.

yes. rest and play. you can see why i might have hid this from myself.

i am still somewhat in resistance to this idea, but here is the thing i am slowly realizing. i do know how to work hard. i do know how to go after what i want. i have done it for a very long time. i just don’t know how to do it without sacrificing myself in the process. my body was trying to tell me that for at least eight of those ten years. i didn’t listen. after a while, i couldn’t even hear it.

that is why rest and play are important. if i can learn to rest and play, it won’t matter how i decide to make my living. i could remain self-employed. i could decide that i want to be an engineer again. i could do something entirely different. it doesn’t matter. whatever i do, i will be able to do it in a way that is healthy and supportive and loving and kind – and that will make all the difference.

(in a humorous reinforcement that rest and play are indeed lessons i need to learn, here’s the first thing i thought after i had my epiphany. “why now? why couldn’t i have understood this ten months ago? then i could be done with the resting and playing and be back to the hard work + sacrifice already. why now?” well, ok, that wasn’t my first thought. my first thought included panic, major resistance, and “what on earth is wrong with me? who quits their job to learn to rest and play? why can’t i just be normal?” but it was definitely my second thought.)

the idea of the "holy grail" of 10,000 hours of practice has been wandering around in my thoughts lately related to my photography. there is something there that is important but i am struggling with how to articulate it.

i wrote a post last year on my wellness blog about not being able to like my own work. (for those who have been wondering why that blog fell silent, i am experimenting with using this blog for all my thoughts.) because i do. i like my work. it makes me happy.

i also feel very apologetic about it. like, it's purely luck that i get photos i love. like, of course i get photos i love, i take enough photos that at least one is bound to turn out every once in a while.

at the same time, that isn't really true. the truth is that i've been taking photos for a long time. the truth is that i spend time on it. the truth is that i try to learn and grow. even if what i do doesn't necessarily look like what i think learning and growing should look like, i am learning and growing in my own way.

it's not that i care about being talented, whether that's having other people think i'm talented or me thinking i'm talented. that isn't the point. i just want to be able to acknowledge to myself that i put in the time on this thing that i love and that i get photos i love because i work at it. (play at it, really. and there's part of the rub. if it feels like play, it doesn't count.)

i'm not even sure why it matters so much that i be able to give this to myself, except that there is something in there about learning to see and acknowledge the good (instead of just the bad, which i have decades of practice at seeing and acknowledging). it feels like a start at recognizing my own light instead of trying to hide it or dim it or not being able to see any light at all. somehow, it matters.

anyway, this particular rambling is point-less. i am just planting a tiny seed of thought. for myself, and maybe for someone else who needs it. 

i suspect that anyone who visits my online home or meets me in person learns immediately that i have a puppy and that i adore him. i do. beyond reason and measure.

but here is the hard and painful truth – i need him. i need him to be here and well.

this is why i have such a hard time when he's ill: part of me jumps into the past, to the time when he was ill and they didn't know if he would live; part of me jumps into the future, to the time when he will leave me. even as i am taking care of him, worry and panic are swirling around in my head. 

i know that this is not particularly healthy – for me or him – but it is a hard pattern to untangle. in the beginning, i knew how much it scared me to think of losing him, but i didn't know why. eventually, i realized that it was because i needed him, but i still didn't know why.

until the moment i did.

i've written about my struggle with worth – a deep core belief that i am worthless. i couldn't have articulated it for much of my life, but it was always there.

when atlas came into my life, he showed me that i was worthy of love. not when i did the right thing or was the right person, but even as i did the wrong things and wasn't the right person. i still didn't believe it, but he was always there to show me.

he was with me through a number of increasingly harder and sadder years that i never told anyone about. i was the person who was always happy and smiling and how does that person tell someone that something is terribly wrong. especially when she doesn't know what it is.

he was there when i found reiki and began to listen to myself and slowly learn what was wrong – and he was there as the healing began.

he was there for all of it.

now, there is a part of me that believes that all the good in my life is attached to atlas and it will go when he does. that is why i need him. because that part of me believes that if (when) he leaves me, not only will i lose my beloved puppy, but i will lose all the love and the joy and the goodness along with him.

intellectually, i know this is not so. i know that i am not the same person i was then. (well, that's not entirely true. i am the same person. i am just becoming more and more me.) i know that the common thread is not atlas but me. but i don't know it – really know it – yet.

this is a big part of why i chose trust as my word for the year. because working with this pattern is a big part of my practice.

i must confess that i am not entirely sure why i feel moved to share this. it is hard for me to admit this to myself, let alone to others.

i am afraid that if i share it, people will laugh and think less of me. but i also suspect that i am only afraid of this because i have an internal voice that laughs at me. "he's just a dog." "get over it already."

at the same time, i suspect that we all have needs and desires and fears that we are afraid to admit. we are afraid that people will judge us for them. we are afraid that people will think less of us for them. we are afraid that people will stop loving us for them.

maybe if i share one of mine, someone else will feel a little less alone, a little less afraid, a little less unsure.