Lisa Daromando

Isn’t it crazy how we are expected to know in college what we want to be doing 10, 20, 30 years in the future? There’s a lot of growing up that has to happen over that time. A lot of change, a lot of mistakes, and a lot of figuring it out along the way. How can we possibly know at 21 years old what we want to do for the rest of our lives? Maybe some people are gifted and figure it out at a young age. Others don’t really care for that passion career and just want to put in their hours and get their paychecks and promotions. If that’s you, then respect. You’re probably a lot more satisfied with your life. But it wasn’t me. I hated the thought of spending my life doing something that didn’t matter to me, especially if it was for people I didn’t matter to.

But I always felt like it was too late for me to try something new, even at 24 when I had the first of many break-downs over my chosen career. I didn’t know what to do to change my life, to step off the perfectly paved path I had started on in college to find something else, something more fulfilling. I was stuck, and it was making me sick.

In college, I had a professor who always said you had to be a risk taker to be an entrepreneur. For years I wanted to start my own company. I even diverted from my initial path and went back to grad school to pursue that entrepreneurship route. But I was not a risk taker, and I took his words to heart. Instead of working to grow my business after graduation, I shut it down and got a job back in the same field I had been in because being broke was a risk I wasn’t willing to take. Instead of starting over in a new career that might actually be fulfilling, I just kept going on the same old path.

Then after a particularly hellish experience I won’t detail here (I’ll just say #MeToo), I was so anti corporate America that I started freelancing during the day and bartending at night. I couldn’t stomach the thought of going back, but it was more than just not wanting to. I was scared to go back. What if the same thing happened again?

But counting literal pennies was tough, especially in my mid-30s when all of my friends were getting married, having kids, and buying their own homes.

Ultimately I went back into corporate America and was incredibly grateful that I did when COVID-19 hit just a few months later. A solid paycheck and health insurance were suddenly worth the desk job.

But after a roller-coaster three years, I was back in that same dark office of despair.

Then I found a new job that I thought would give me the chance to be more creative and to lead a team, and despite a last minute notice that it would pay me significantly less than what they initially said and a gut feeling that the owner would screw me over again in a heartbeat, I took the job.

Big mistake. Huge. At least it was at first.

If anyone else has ever worked for a narcissist, then you probably know the feeling of daily frustration and fear. It’s like being gaslit every single day. You eventually dread going to work or even opening your email. You may even start believing all of the bullshit and second guessing your own abilities.

However, I loved my coworkers and the people who worked for me. I loved the work we did and had fun doing it. I kept looking for the good, even when it all just got worse and worse. (And of course I loved the paycheck.)

I was safe in a job that paid me…until one day I made a mistake. It was a very human mistake, and while others reviewed and approved the mistake, I lost my job for it.

At first, all I could do was beat myself up. I was a life-long perfectionist and overachiever who had just truly, utterly failed. I had made a mistake and I had been fired for it. The reasons behind it didn’t matter, what mattered was that in my head, I had failed in the career I had worked so hard to master.

After hanging up from the call where I was fired on the spot, I called my mom. I was 38 years old and calling my mommy in tears because I had failed.

“But Lisa, didn’t you tell me just last week that you wished you could just be fired?”

Oh, shit.

I had. Not just that time, but several times. See, I wanted out, but I knew I would never just quit. I had searched for other jobs, and even applied to some. None of them gave me the feeling I was looking for, so I just kept going, even when it made me physically sick. I stopped crying and started to laugh.

Okay, God. I heard you.

And this time, I needed to listen.

But why stop there?

I put my wish out into the universe. I prayed and said it aloud to my friends and family: I wish I could find a part-time job that pays the bills and gives me health insurance but doesn’t drain all of my energy. I wish I could figure out a side-hustle that is active and will allow me to make money while I try to make it as an author.

Two months and many job applications later, the only phone interview I received was for a job that at its max would pay less than half of what I had been making. It was for a local nonprofit for girls — a cause I could surely get behind. And I had an idea.

“You’re much more qualified than the other applicants I’m getting,” the co-founder said when we first spoke. “And you’re okay with the salary?”

“Well, what if I told you I could do the job and everything you need part-time, but for that full-time salary? I’ve been at this a while, I’ve done it all, I can do it faster and more effectively than someone a year out of college, which is what you’ll get for that salary.”

“…Okay, let’s give it a try.”

“But I would also need health insurance.”

“I think we can do that.”

What? Had I just gotten everything that I had asked for?

It has been nearly two years since that fateful day, and I can honestly say I am so grateful I was fired. My life has completely changed. I finally learned how to trust my gut and ask for what I want. I learned to trust myself and that I will figure out how to get there. I still do marketing, because I am still not a risk taker, but it is just part-time, and I am now working for a boss who is grateful for what I do and appreciates me for the human I am. I also discovered a love of Pilates, and after a year of training, studying, tests, and apprenticing, I am a fully certified instructor. I can now balance my marketing salary with an active side-hustle that nets me 10k steps while teaching and allows me to practice for free (not to mention all of the new friends I’ve made, people I’ve met, and confidence I’ve gained along the way). And I am almost finished with my novel — which has been a goal of mine for a long time — because I finally have the time and the brain space to try.

I never believed in manifesting before (not that I hadn’t tried), but I do believe in prayer, and what is manifesting if not asking God for what you want and having faith that He will hear you? Just be careful what you manifest; sometimes God responds in mysterious ways…