Yesterday, while sitting in a meeting where a new section in the magazine was being tossed around (not by me), my mind screamed, "get me out of here!" This was the first truly desperate thought I've had in the two years I've worked as the editor/associate publisher. I've always managed to fend off the money-driven sales managers who want to prostitute the content just to make a sale (which usually doesn't happen in the magnitude they predict). Not this time, I guess. I offered a suggestion which would make it a little less shallow. But, the change still feels like a direct hit to the authentic voice I've tried to maintain.
"They" want a special section devoted entirely to stroking the egos of cosmetic surgery doctors and beauty peddlers. I don't want to put my name on it. Women need to feel they are enough without the assistance of a scalpel, injection or tuck. Now, I'm not so self-righteous to be completely opposed to an occasional treatment or service to stay looking your best. I've often gazed longingly at other women's flat tummies and longed to have one for myself. But, I'd rather not promote every procedure under a cosmetic doctor's flaw-seeking eye.
I came into this job knowing I'd have battles to fight. Several battles have been won — temporarily. I'd like to think I've made a difference in some woman's life from something I've written or had written in the magazine under my charge. But, lately the thought, "what's the use?" has entered my psyche. Do you ever feel that the battle really isn't worth fighting anymore?
All the fight in me has drained out — at least for this job. I strive to have purpose and passion drive my decisions of what I do in life. My drive to stay now is mostly for sustaining my family. I barely feel as though I'm lifting and inspiring women. I feel more like a glorified order taker. I should just be happy to have a job which allows me the freedom of schedule, right? Well, call me an optimist, but I think something else out there might be just as permissive or more with my schedule as a mom (with it's own set of problems, of course) and not be so limiting in its vision. Is this a case of "the grass is always greener?"