I'm not sure when it was that I was freed from corporate America, but as somepoint, it happened.
I'll just come out and say it: US Airways is the worst employer I have ever had. They are a horrible company with horrible service and even worse employee relations.
I won't continue with that particular tirade; this is about my departure from the rat race, not about the unethical existence of a corporation.
The thing is, most of my coworkers (and a large percent of patrons flying US Airways, I'm sure) agree with me, but their need for the cheapest flight or $13.75 an hour, or both, outweigh their unhappiness. I served in the union the way I did because no matter how much I did need that paycheck or the free flight, that need never seemed to justify the sinkhole despair of dealing with that company.
Maybe that was the moment. Or maybe it was when I realized I would face unhappiness every day of my life if it meant I could paint. Or maybe it was when I realized I couldn't paint if I was unhappy. No matter how often I escaped, no matter with whom, those glimpses of freedom just couldn't make up for the dread of having to give my precious time to something so undeserving. And since when was unhappiness worth anything?? Men are that they might have joy, after all.
I made a choice. It wasn't a money driven choice, neither anger. Not logic-driven either to be truthful. I just chose to be happy. And in that choice came my freedom.