I don’t know, yet. At least, I have my ideas about the greatest risk, but I won’t know the outcome until well into 2014. Perhaps longer.
This whole autumn was about risk. I had a choice of risks. Risking my career, risking my marriage, risking my sanity. (I’m not sure that’s hyperbole, either.)
I have a feeling that it looks from the outside as if I chose to risk my marriage rather than my career. I chose to keep doing my job. I chose to stay in Surrey while my husband moved to Cambridgeshire.
As it turned out, I got the mythical ‘something in head office’ and my job moved to London. As it turned out, I’m still in Surrey and he’s still in Cambridgeshire. We’re hanging on until April or May. All the while, it’s a risk.
I am happy in my own mind that it is a justified risk. I am pretty sure that chucking in my job and starting over again with temping in a new city would have been disastrous, for my mind and for my marriage. I am enjoying my new job and the associated prospects of career progression, although I haven’t yet adjusted to the length of the commute and the size of the workforce. I am happy with this risk. I don’t think I could have done anything better with what I had.
But I still don’t know how it’s all going to turn out.