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A "real" secure job

I spent most of my adult life fulfilling my dream of being a singer, traveling to countries, teaching French, doing wellness and reflexology massages, and teaching vocal positioning. I felt I was living my dream and that I would achieve my goal of fame and recognition.

But every time I touched the record industry, every time a producer was preparing the contracts, every time a well-known musician was considering working with me, something would happen, something would bring my hopes down.

Art by Fornico

Meanwhile, everything else I was doing FOR my goal, was thriving. I started producing on TV in order to be recognizable and network and have people buy my records (yes, I am that old).

Years later I realized something was stopping me from the dream I had ever since I was 4, to sing in front of people and on stage because had I signed a contract I would not have sung and danced clothed on a stage, and certainly not the genre I adored.

When my daughter was born, a shift happened, I taught more, I wrote more, and I sang less. If ever. The responsibilities of raising a child, without a steady job, were haunting me. I started subtitling and writing articles in magazines. Somewhere in the background, some of my books were published, but I did not care. I needed money, not recognition. Milk, not paper.

I started an education as an interpreter for the deaf and started working as an event planner. My experience behind the cameras came in handy. I loved the multifaceted challenges, the brainstorming, and the managing. I hated the boss who came on to me and forced me out 10 days before the show. Same shit, different day.

It was around that time I started thinking I had to leave Greece. I was drowning, I was poor, and things were not looking good.

When I came to Denmark, a country that was not even in my radar, I was surprised to see I was not as smart as I thought. I could not learn the language. Me. A multilingual voice artist, a talented woman who could do whatever she set her mind to.

And then it hit me. Did I have value because I lived in a sexist country? Did I get chances due to my looks that were now fading? Chances I would lose as soon as I would not sleep with my boss, but still, chances.

Illiterate in my new country, I could not even read a ketchup bottle at the supermarket. I felt useless. I had no support system. And at home, I was told more often than not that I was not very bright, if I was even addressed for serious decisions.

The fear of the unknown grew my need to find a "real" job.

I obsessed about it. I looked for it. I would take any job as long as it would give me a steady salary, a pension, and vacation money. I needed that validation, that security, that I would not be homeless.

I almost died.

My stress level was on top of the chart. I chased and chased more than I chased my dream for fame. And then I got it. I got a steady job. I got a salary, month in, month out. Very low salary, but a sure thing.

And I had no time to do anything else. No time to draw, no time to write. Me, the person who wrote 55 audiobooks in a year.

I started realizing the new fear that was created in me. The fear of losing the stability. And I hated that. I also hated the fact that my time was never mine, not really, even away from work.

That's when I decided to leave. I found another steady job, and while I was transitioning from the old to the new, I realized, I did not want that anymore.

I did not want the steady, real job.

I had shed the fear of the unknown to the level of feeling comfortable with my abilities and feeling I will make it, if not succeed.

I realized the steady job was something I wanted for my kid, but she was now grown. And I did not do that bad. I also realized I wanted a steady job for the "future", but, the leash was too tight.

Maybe I was too old to learn new tricks, perhaps I finally had enough confidence in myself, or possibly the jobs I was looking at were not the right ones.

But who knew, I would treasure my time more than a recurring number in the bank?

Who knew, indeed...

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