When Opportunity Knocks

I was offered an opportunity. I'm not going to get into the specifics because I don't need advice right now, and I'm sure to get it if I mention exactly what the opportunity is. But let's just say that the opportunity would require a move to another state and not one I've lived in before (calm down, east coast). The offer came via email which might be the wrong way to communicate information to me because I tend to start skimming while my head gets all buzzy, and I feel like jumping out of my seat and calling my mommy. "What do I do? Whaddoido! (*moan.*)" I actually closed out of AOL and sat in denial for a few minutes, before I was able to pull out my mental police officer (I'm telling you, everyone should go through the police academy just for this skill set) and slap myself around a bit. "Calm down; slow down. Stop panicking and think."

This post is not about this particular opportunity, but the way I respond to any kind of opportunity that presents itself. I like to call it “pre-worry,” but a mental health specialist might call it “panic.” Let’s take dating, for instance. A guy asks me out. “Would you like to go out on Friday night?” My stomach sinks, and I look at him as if he just asked, “Would you like me to rip your heart from your chest?” While I would love to say, “Can I get back to you on that?”, I usually have to give an answer right away, and it always comes out sounding a bit like I’m trying to convince myself that I want to do this (which is a partial truth), and that I’m just not that into him. “Yeah, sure! That’d be great! Oh wait. This Friday? Umm, I might have to…no, it’s fine…yes!” In those spare, jibber-jabbering moments, I have to make the “right decision” because it might affect the rest of my life! (It’s all do-or-die in Callafornia.) I process as fast as I can. Risk management style. “What’s the worst that can happen?” “Do I have anything to wear?” “How fast can I lose ten pounds?” “Is he going to expect to go dutch; am I liquid?” “Do I like him? His mouth is a bit too small. Can I give birth to a child with a mouth like that?” (Don’t judge me…) The root of the problem is this: I don't like risk, and I definitely don’t like change. How is a Friday night date risky change? Oh, it is, my friend. It is.

So, if that’s how I confront a little date proposal, imagine what I would do if someone actually dropped to a knee and proposed marriage (I have, and it involves puke). Those big, life-altering opportunities can cause days of consternation for me. “What does it mean? What do I do? Is this a test?” Once I get over the existential angst, I move onto the practical. “How does this affect my career? How much money is this going to cost versus how much money it’s going to generate?” And then onto the personal, “How is this going to affect the people in my life like my roommate? How are my friends going to react? How will I meet new people where I land?” All these things have to be gone through with a fine-tooth comb. I have to parse out each and every scenario and come to all conclusions before I even take a breath. And once I’ve gotten to the place where I think, “OK, yeah, I can do this.” Everything firms up like its cement, and I just go like Usain Bolt out of the running blocks.

When I do change, I usually take my present, rip it shreds, set it on fire, and hot foot it out of town. I've noticed this about myself and fully acknowledge it. However, this response has not made me happy. See: Los Angeles. So, this time, I’m trying to use that mental cop a whole lot sooner and further into the process. This time I started to think about how I could leverage this opportunity to perhaps better my position in Los Angeles. How to use it to stay than using it as an excuse to go. That was a bit risky as it would require me to tip my hand to my employer during a tricky economy. I also started to think about what I really wanted out of my life because those wants have been changing. I’m a little tired of the gypsy lifestyle I’ve been leading and have actually been thinking about Boston. Home, but not home. And while I like the option of picking up and going, I would actually like to bring a friend or two along this time. Or go to a place where I already have friends set up. I’m also a little tired of hop scotching to different jobs to find a “safe spot” where I “can grow.” I kind of just want a job that I like, that pays me well, and allows me to have a personal life. I’d rather start growing in a relationship than at the work space. I’d rather feel safe at home than at work. Unfortunately, that opportunity hasn't presented itself yet, but here's to hoping that this opportunity -- whether I take it or leave it -- does.

So, what am I going to do about this particular opportunity that has not only knocked but rang the doorbell a couple of times and yelled that it knows I'm inside? Well, even though my modus operendi of pre-worry has already kicked into gear, I’m trying to approach it differently. This time, I’m going to open up the door. Maybe take a step or two out. Greet it and get a good look at it before deciding whether to take its arm and go for a jaunt...or slam the door in its face. This, hopefully, will be better way of dealing with it than cowering behind the door until I can figure out whether it’s wielding a machete.