Don’t speak too soon my mother would have said. Perhaps I jinxed it, by crowing about finding a job. Or perhaps I was just too keen to prove (mainly to myself) that I was still in demand, despite being 56 and having lived outside of Canada for so long. But I suspect it was my desire to put down roots and call Toronto home again that made me jump at the first opportunity offered, despite a small voice that told me it didn’t feel right. I should have listened more attentively.
I quit my job on Friday. For two months I’d been telling myself that I would settle in, that I just needed to get to grips with the job, get used to the company, make friends with my colleagues. But with each passing day I was becoming more miserable, knowing that I was a round peg trying to hammer myself into a square hole. In the end it was time to admit my mistake and cut my losses.
I feel I’ve been flung back 7 months to the day we landed back home, like a giant game of Snakes & Ladders. On the one hand there’s a world of opportunity in front of me, but on the other hand I’ve no clue what comes next.
For now I’m going to take a trip to Dubai, where my husband has returned to work again (yes, we are trying to repatriate, but so far not very successfully) and then I’m also going to the FIGT Conference in March. Perhaps I’ll present myself as an interesting case study. In all seriousness I hope I get some inspiration from others who’ve been through this.