For the best part of the last thirty-odd years, I have worked in some form of adult education and training, and for nearly quarter of a century, as a self-employed consultant and independent contractor. The decision to embark on the self-employment chapter was because I had chosen to follow my heart and moved to a town where I had to use my own resources to make a living. By that time, I had already resolved to consult. Ha! The confident arrogance of youth! The project, and varied nature of the work, including the broad range of clients had great appeal. As did building a business.
Soon, though, I realised that building a business had serious implications, the most important of which – for me, anyway – was that it took me further and further from the proverbial coal face and into the business of doing business. Not my strength, not my passion. Parallel with the professional was the personal chapter and the discovery that there was more to me and life than building a business. I enjoyed my leisure time and activities that went with it – cooking and entertaining (feeding people).
The kitchen has, for years, been a sanctuary to which I retreat, and was the place where I began to get creative, even though I only shared it with the nearest and dearest.
)My consultancy stayed small because and I loved the work. I had the opportunity of working with fabulous people - clients and colleagues – some of whom remain close friends. I worked in a sector for which I had enormous passion – still do. But that world has changed. The work has not changed but it’s become more and more difficult to secure, which can be blamed, to some extent, on politics and Politics (and yes, the big and little “P’s” are deliberate). More than this, though, the work into which one puts one’s heart and soul is no longer valued or used. Increasingly, and disappointingly, the work I’ve been contracted to do has been in fulfilment of some or other tick-box exercise and when it’s done, it seems to disappear into a morass.
I fell into a funk; a gloom that developed into a fully-fledged jaundice. I had to confront the hard reality that I am too young to retire and more to the point, retiring now, is financial suicide…decisions about what to do have had to be made and acted upon far sooner than I had planned. That said, I had been thinking about what I might like to be doing. Spurred on by friends I began blogging on another platform which, in reality, was the beginning of the chapter which I am now starting. Nervously and defiantly I began Fiona’s Favourites. Nervous because I was going to be “putting myself out” there, albeit cheered on by friends and prospective readers. Defiant because I resolved not to share my humble cooking creations on a public social platform.
So began my foray into the blogosphere and with it the discovery that there were people who read what I wrote and wanted more. I promised myself that I would blog for as long as I enjoyed it and for as long as I had something to say. Then, just on a year ago, as the jaundice was developing, my work encroached on my blogspace. Posts since then began being sporadic even though I have plenty of material and then dried up. The jaundice had become a cancer.
It had to be excised.
Terrifying and liberating, that decision has been. Liberation came with the deciding. The terror is because, I am again following my heart, leaving the toxicity of what was my “day job” to start something using skills and resources I am only just beginning to recognise as having value outside that milieu.
Serendipitous with all of this – I’m beginning to learn, again, that the universe has its own way of sending us messages – if we just listen – has been the introduction from blogpal, good friend and fellow Steemian, 
So, cheers, and here’s to a new chapter and I look forward to your joining me at my virtual table, and for a sip or two of wine….
