Originally published at awaitstheday. You can comment here or there.

Once again, I’ve been on an unexplained absence for more than 6 months. A lot has happened in that time, and yet a lot has not. The short of it is: I’m now 33, a fat person who exercises regularly, owner of a completely healed right hand, loser of final 2 wisdom teeth, and still single.

I am not entirely sure what has prompted my need to introspect, but this blog has beef gnawing at my thoughts for the better part of the week. I miss the ability to type freely about all of my thoughts, especially since I am more eloquent here. So here goes.

When I first gained employment after graduating in 2013, I was sure I had found a place to grow and expand my role. After 2.5 years, I came to the realization that I had been deceived. I was restless yet my supervisor curiously seemed unwilling to help me learn more or even to promote me.

Frustrated, I moved on to a different role. Yet this was primarily an academic appointment, meaning I had the additional responsibility of seeking grant opportunities.

If you know me, you know I hate grant writing. I would not have taken this position had they been honest with me. Instead, they lead me to believe that I could continue being funded by other grants without having to find my own.

In fact, there was barely any funding for me at all by the end of 2015. To cover half of my salary, my work was farmed out to another division. And then, I was doing ad hoc projects for a third division. By January 2016, I was doing 3 jobs for the pay of 1.

Frazzled does not begin to describe my state of mind. I was a strange amalgam of elated and exhausted. When I finally burnt out, it was not a pretty sight.

Thankfully, the academic division let me know they could no longer fund me after July 16. Of course my initial reaction was one of sorrow and hurt, but this gave me he opportunity to explore other positions, within my current organization and externally. Funnily enough, whlie I searched externally, I felt as though I would be leaving too soon. It had only been a year, and I want nearly as exhausted as I had been in my first-ever position.

So I made the decision to stay, and learned quite a bit along the way:

1. Professional happiness is a choice, not a revelation. You may think you need to search for ‘the job that makes you happy,’ but barring special circumstances, you can often find professional fulfillment where you are. Of course, if the work environment deteriorates to the point where you do not feel safe and/or appreciated, GET OUT. Otherwise, trust your gut when deciding where to go.
2. Never be afraid to say no. Yes, this one sounds pretty dumb, but I think this is a difficult lesson for employees with 5 or less years of experience. The truth is, it’s you’re life. You’re the one that needs to deal with the repercussions of your decisions. Certain jobs are lucrative for new hires yet have unsustainable work hours (i.e. some finance jobs). Others move at an equally fast pace and can fulfill you, yet may pay less. There will always be a compromise, whatever your decision, so be prepared to negotiate with yourself.
3. Do not be naive – not all of your coworkers are your friends. In fact, be surprised if you find more than 1 or 2 coworkers who you can trust. Yes, I sound really pessimistic but I have the tendency of assuming the best of people, then inevitably being disappointed. Do not be like me. You don’t have to assume the worst of people – instead, approach them with a blank slate. Allows your coworkers to show you who they are over time. < \li> < \ol>

   I have more to process so expect more posts shortly.

Originally published at awaitstheday. Please leave any comments there.

It’s been quite a while since I’ve posted here, hasn’t it? Part of me would claim nothing interesting has happened to me since my last post, but that is simply not true. Another part of me wants to blame a brutal commute to work that prevents carting a laptop to and fro, but the advent of smartphones effectively silences that argument. So I’m left with a mental shrug and the urge to unload on you once again.

In the time since my last post, I’ve changed churches twice, changed jobs once, and joined a gym. Of course these changes were spread out over the past two years, but they did occur and they are slowly having an effect. I have a social life when I want one, I work in NYC, and I’m fitting into my clothes. Specifically, I’ve realized I am finally where I want to be, doing the things I want to do. I’ve felt a hope and peace that I haven’t felt in… well, ever. I don’t think I’ve ever been as sure of my life as I am now.

I have prefaced this post with this much exposition because you need to understand its juxtaposition to my past week.

On Saturday, August 1st, I broke my right ring finger while twisting closed a doorknob.

Obviously, I didn’t realize out was broken. There was barely an audible snap. All I knew was I had felt a brief flash of pain and my ring finger was hanging a little strangely. But after a lifetime of inadvertently stretching my toes and dealing with momentary numbness, I thought I’d wait it out.

At the time, I was en route to watching a movie with my parents. By the end of the movie, the pain was still there. I was starting to suspect my finger was broken, but the idea that I’d broken it so easily was so ludicrous that I laughed at my own paranoia and called it a sprain.

I purchased a finger spent over the counter, took some Tylenol, and went to bed. When I woke up the next morning, the pain and the awkwardness of having my dominant hand out of commission kept me in bed, riveted to Netflix while icing my finger to reduce the swelling.

On Monday, I decided that my finger was hanging too oddly for this to be a simple sprain. After some drama with my HR department over insurance coverage, I finally went to an urgent care facility on Tuesday and got X-Rays.

Sure enough, my finger was broken. But the reason for such an easy break was mind blowing. A benign tumor (called an enchondroma) had weakened my finger bone to the point that it was able to break so easily (referred to as a pathological fracture).

I couldn’t believe it. My parents couldn’t believe it. Heck, anyone who knew me could barely believe it. Other than the excess fat on my skeleton, I’m relatively healthy. The worst part was I had felt NO SYMPTOMS of this bone tumor prior to the break.

And that’s when I realized I’d become the cliche of A Patient Processing Bad News. You’ve seen this before: the patient who receives a devastating diagnosis and starts to question their life. How did they not see this coming? Could they have prevented it? What would this mean for the future? What would happen if they didn’t make a full recovery?

In my case, I need to let my fracture heal for about three months, then have surgery to remove my tumor and rebuild the inside of my bone with a graft and maybe even a pin. This entails at least 6 months of recovery time, consistent doctor visits, and relying on my left hand instead of my right.

It’s been a slow transition from right to left hands and my overall recovery is not nearly as serious as a malignant form of cancer would be. But in previous years, I’d be freaking out quite a bit. Instead, I’m feeling rather grateful to that doorknob.

Originally published at Refashioned Jewelry. Please leave any comments there.

Some time in 2010 or 2011, I made this necklace for my best friend as a present:

The green faux mother-of-pearl beads were originally from Michaels. This photo actually makes it look better than it looked in real life. In reality the gold was much yellower and clashed against the gold tones in the mother-of-pearl beads, giving everything the patina of puce. It was not pretty.

In October of 2014, my bestie asked me if I would like to remake this piece, which was her subtle way of begging me to change it. I accepted the challenge, and proceeded to be stumped by this necklace for nearly a month. Finally, during a bout with the flu, my brain perked up.

As anyone who’s stared at a color wheel knows, green and purple are complementary colors. I decided to use purple beads with the green mother-of-pearls as a contrast, but they had to be uniquely shaped and a darker purple. I found what I was looking for at Bead Center:

This is a deep, rich amethyst color in a translucent glass bead. The shape of the beads reminded me of shark teeth, which fit the beachy theme of the green mother-of-pearl beads. However, just green and purple would have been boring. I needed a brighter color:

I was gifted these earrings by a family member. As turquoise is my favorite color and every beach has blue water, it seemed a no-brainer to mix all three of these colors together:

I intended to use those tarnished gold beads, but found I had no need for them. Once I removed all of the gold wire and replaced it with silver wire, the necklace and earring set was complete:

Have you ever used green mother-of-pearl beads in your jewelry? How would you have remade this?