My past life

Leaving journalism was the most difficult thing I have had to do in my entire adult life. I wish my family would see it that way. I struggled with it, but damn did I love the long nights, deadlines and stress of it all.

I find myself caught between this world. My family telling me what I should be doing with my life and what they think is best.

Telling me that "I am not a reporter anymore, and glad you are out of there."

They might as well slap me across the face and dump me in the trash, that's how I feel every time they say that.

It breaks my already broken heart, a little more each time.

Don't get me wrong, I don't plan to go back. I am done with newspapers. I can't bare go back and start from scratch. I have been the editor and general manager of a weekly. I won a three year fellowship and I have covered an execution and a murder trial, but going back is not an option.

There's something about this career that I love so much, but I knew I never belonged in. I fought my way in, had so many struggles. Had so many people telling me that I didn't belong there, but I continue on. I wanted to prove to myself that this was more than just a "dream" I wanted to make it in the newspaper business.

Once I applied for a New York Times fellowship, and instead got what I call "rejection" letter. It's a letter from an editor telling me I didn't get the fellowship, but that I also needed to take a hard look at my writing. 

I am glad she did that. I appreciate it and took it to heart.

I wanted to be a part of it.

I retired last week after a 12-week stay at a daily paper that in my opinion, needs new management. This editor yelled at me every time time she had a chance. She would make me feel like a worthless piece of shit. She would tell me my writing was getting worse with each article I wrote.

Some friends would say she was just jealous. Others would just tell me, "Hey, it the nature of the beast. That's what happens when you are a daily reporter." 

Well, maybe I thought, I am just not cut out to be a daily reporter anymore.

I have left three newspapers in a year and declined two job offers. I am a woman who knows what I want. But have I gone too far this time?

I went four months with a job and for a workaholic like me, the worst experience of my life. 

This was after I had just started working at a weekly back home. A job I accepted and was excited about.

Working three years at a weekly as an editor and a general manager, it was hard work, but I loved it.

But I left anyway. I left to be the editor of another weekly, but that was short lived. I was called by a neighboring paper, asking if I was interested in their editor position. They had heard I was coming home and they wanted me.

After talking to them, I accepted the job and declined the original job.

This next job turned out to be a bad decision.

A month after I started working there, I was being accused of insubordination by the publisher. Something she had used a few other times with other reporters she was trying to get rid of, in my opinion.

When I realized what she was doing, I walked out before they would fire me.

Four months later, and two job offers, which I declined, I accepted a job at a small daily. But with mandatory furloughs, I knew I was not going to make it financially.

Another editor, who I had been in talks with before taking on this job, invited me for an interview. I left with a job offer.

So I left for this job.

A few days after I accepted the job, the claws came out.

"Don't worry, you will learn a lot from her," one reporter said.

"But when?" I thought.

She spends almost everyday yelling and telling me of all the "problems" I have in every article.

So after 12 weeks I walked out, again.

Was this a pattern building up? Is this something that I would be doing for the rest of my life?