{Why}

It’s after ten.  I’m a bit sun burnt.  My feet are soaking wet from storm drainage water.  I’m picking ticks, and thorns from out of my flesh, wondering… what the hell am I doing here.

Not the here, as in “life” or this planet, I’ve given up on those quest for knowledge.  But here in my “career” or “job” or “hobby” or what ever this thing is that I do daily.  You’d think by my age that I would have something figured out.  But with most passing days I feel more and more unsure of myself, and every direction I choose to travel.

Just because I have a “skill” that may or may not be a bit above the average joe, does not mean that’s my life calling.  I also enjoy writing and reading… should I publish books?  I love to draw… should I be a starving artist?  I also have double jointed wrists… pretty sure the circus life is not for me.  And maybe, this whole help the people thing isn’t my cup of tea.

Honestly, the older I get the more I despise people to start with.  I actually had quit dog training at one point in my life.  After having one too many phone calls with people wanting their dogs to bite, or not knowing how to make their dogs stop biting, or people just plain out who should be banned from owning any living creature including gold fish, and moths lost in their homes… I can’t even say I was burnt out, I just was done with it all.  And obviously the world is full of dog experts.  Just disagree with any dog thing online, you’ll soon see, lol.  Frankly I loved the break.  My Etsy shop http://www.whitegoatranch.etsy.com grew and helped me get a new for me car.  My back stopped hurting.  Less people.  All wins!

But as always I got drug back into it.  But life threw a giant monkey wrench at me in the midst, and pressure for more stable work, retirement plans, “a real job” was slammed at me, and I thought okay… here we go…

Now I find myself on call 24/7.  Defiantly taken advantage of.  Cleaning pee non-stop.  Not making a dime, yet working my butt off, always dealing with a crisis somewhere… And why?  There’s no glory, so it’s not for that.  I had a gentleman this weekend complain about the dogs we have in training that he could possibly receive FOR FREE because they weren’t his choice breed.   I’ve also been blocked online for not taking in every rescue dog they offer me.  Because obviously I don’t have limited space, time, or budget.  The list goes on.  And let me tell you about every moe and joe out there who can’t help my organization at all, but they’d love it if I could help them out.  Now I’m ranting.  Flat out complaining and all.  Breaking the cardinal rule of small business 101… don’t B***ch on the webs.  Don’t step on cracks either.  So many rules.

I’m just not so sure that this is my place in the universe.  There’s so many other careers out there.  I have been working on a list that hardly involves people.  Worm digging… for bait shops.  I could even decorate the containers.  Posh Bait.  Or Shabby Chic Nightcrawlers.  I could open up a private winery, and spend lots of time checking my dark, quiet cellars.  Surly neither job involves such turmoil.  I could also grow hay.  I seem to excel at letting gardens get overgrown anyway.  /sighs

But here I am, all bruised and battered.  Ego, heart, soul, and body.

The past few years have taken a lot out of me, and has left me feeling very lost.  I’m just not so sure that I’m right for this whole thing, or if this whole is right for me.