Stay where I am (if the owner allows me to go month to month for the rest of the year) even though the neighborhood has gotten a bit rough around the edges – between the domestic violence (rare but LOUD), the unsavory characters wondering through; the increase in police activity, a speeding car whipping past me / running stop signs in school bus zones in what I later found out was an attempt to evade capture, and the outright shoplifting I witnessed at the grocery store up the street, I’m not feeling as comfortable as I did when I first moved in.
Move, which at this point will put a definitive increase on my budget as there’s no way I’m going to find suitable lodging for what I pay now. This place was the proverbial “God send”. Having found only one other place that might have come close, it was still priced at a hundred dollars more than what I pay now and yes, that hundred can make a difference. But, moving means a quieter neighborhood and fewer neighbors in close proximity as I’m looking to rent either a stand alone or a townhouse in a smaller community than the one I’m in now. I’d have a yard or at the very least a deck / porch which would allow some much needed nature time while I write or just sit. I’d have new paths to walk in the evenings too. Some that are well lit, well traveled, and don’t leave me feeling afraid.
Stay where I am employed even though I get the distinct feeling there are forces afoot that will soon have me unemployed. The paranoia could be all in my head. I could be leading myself to my own demise so to speak by projecting my fear, allowing it to affect how I do my job. I need the income. I need it to stay at its current level or increase at least through to the end of the year. If I move, I’ll need to be in a position to pay rent through the terms of the lease. If I don’t move, at least I’ll be month to month so if the job goes away, I won’t have to come up with any extra money to break a lease. I can then move into my truck if need be. Okay, that an extreme scenario and one without merit as I do have a viable option that won’t leave me homeless, but it will be a situation where I’ll need to get a job post haste so I may contribute to the household. There are no free rides. And unless things turn around for my fledgling, then I’ll need to be in a position to keep her from being homeless too. You can stop with the side eye. I’m just not one of those parents who can issue ultimatums to my kid. Call me over protective or enabling but at least I know she’s safe at night, has food to eat, and hasn’t had to resort to who knows what in order to survive. I grew up watching kids, especially girl children, whose parents decided that at 18, or younger in some cases, they were old enough to learn to fend for themselves. It was the equivalent of tossing a kid in the deep end when they didn’t know how to swim and expecting them to learn due to the stress of the situation. I don’t know of any who came out of that experience into situations that I’d consider healthy or safe. They survived, but at what cost? Anyway…
Actively, forcefully, aggressively seek employment else where. Not a bad idea but let’s face it. My heart isn’t in it. Aside from actually LIKING the job I do now (just not the circumstances under which I’m doing it), if I have to move on from it, I’d much rather be in a position to make my living from my writing and my coaching. Period. I am tired of working in situations where there is little to no compassion, no one in “power” making even the slightest attempts to make things equitable; where people smile in my face but work very hard to discredit me behind my back. All I’ve every known is “work for someone else till you retire and THEN you can do the writing thing. Unless you come across some major deal that affords you to step out of the race.” I’m not all that wrapped up in money, the amount I earn, but I do enjoy my current lifestyle – living in doors, having heat, clean running water from the indoor plumbing, eating food that I didn’t have to brush the mold from, that kind of thing. So there is a certain level of income I would like to maintain and trust me, my income from the writing gigs isn’t even close at this point. Oh, and let’s toss in to the job search the fact that I’m looking 50 in the face. I’ve been told getting a job will be more difficult the older I get. When the hiring manager is twenty years my junior, it can be difficult to relate; to get them to believe I’m capable. And then there’s that – what am I really capable of doing that fits into the current economy? But all of that aside, if I put in the effort, I’m sure I could squeeze into another corporate gig with a crazy commute, cutthroat office politics, and a really great 401K plan. I went after a couple of dream jobs this year and in both instances, “while we thought you were great, we decided to go with another candidate that better matched what we were looking for.” The subsequent not so dreamy jobs I’ve applied for were less flattering in their rejections. For some reason, rejection of my writing doesn’t seem to be as personal as being rejected for a job which is weird because my writing is ME where as the job I do is just that, a job I do. Hmmmm.