Work. Work. Work. Money. Work.
Money. Work. Work. Work.
And this was my entire vocabulary throughout any conversation, one year and three months ago, locked in a big office in São Paulo, Brazil, dealing with major clients, millions of users every day and one demanding boss.
“Love, do you want anything for Valentine’s day?”
“Work. Work work, money?”
“How was your weekend, Ligia?”
“Work money, work?”
(ok, I might have exaggerated here a bit. But you got the idea!)
I’m not really sure when I started to feel it – what I do know is: somewhere along the way, I lost track of what I wanted. My days, then, became all the same. A routine of waking up, working my ass off, not being recognised properly, drowning my sorrows in beer, coffee and cheese flavoured Fandangos (a Brand of Brazilian snacks). What matters is: I wasn’t happy… I really wasn’t.
And more than any of it, I wrote. With all my just found passion, with all my reborn heart, with everything I had.
I felt as if, day after day, my soul was getting dry. My heart slowly dying – and with it, my dreams. I didn’t think about what I wanted anymore. I just thought about surviving.
Because of it and several other events (both good and terrible), I quit my job, then entered a plane to spend 6 months with my aunt in England. There, I travelled alone to cities I can’t even name, saw and met people I don’t remember anymore – did things I’d never do -, lived and felt like never before.
And more than any of it, I wrote. With all my just found passion, with all my reborn heart, with everything I had. First, to improve my English. To come back to Brazil with a killer cv (a killer resumé) that would put my career back on track.
You see, I always enjoyed to write. For some time I even entertained the idea of becoming a writer – ‘But that was long ago,’ I thought. ‘When I could be anything else. Now I’m too old, right?’ I had even started a book once, two years before! And in two years, I wrote nothing but 16 chapters.
But something happened to me in England. I’m not sure why, but everything changed before my eyes. When I started to write about Sharona, giving her and her friends (all of them) a little piece of myself, I didn’t notice how much I, too, was learning with her and with my readers.
As I wrote, I posted chapter after chapter on Wattpad (here’s the link for my account there if you want to add me) without even thinking about revision or editing. The answer I received was fantastic. The comments, the interaction… And when someone told me how much reading it helped them… Jesus Christ, I cried. Oh, if I cried!
I knew this was what I wanted to do. I knew the path would be difficult. I knew I’d need luck, courage, stamina, hope and a whole lot of patience to face this change of careers… But still I accepted it. And I embraced how shitty my life would seem to be from then on – and until I reach my goals.
Oh, please highlight ‘seem to be’, since never before I felt as good as now, living completely broke, freelancing to pay the bills and writing/editing most of my time. Although I didn’t buy any new pair of high heels in the past 6 months (and that a promotion in the office is out of question), I know I did the right thing.
x Ligia Nunes