An old high school acquaintance contacted me tonight, somewhat out of the blue. She was probably my closest friend at that time; we were two parts of a triumvirate of girls, kind of geeky, kind of outsiders and yet proud of that status. I went off to university, she got married, the third faded from view as well. In any case we were doing the thing that you do when you reconnect with someone from your past - trade histories, trade current events, basically catch each other up. And as I read my note to her, a response to the very innocent question "what are you up to?" I wondered what she would think as she read it.
Because in my view, I sounded either like the devil-may-care, leaf in the wind, adventurer; or else like a total loser mooching off friends and relatives. I imagine that the reality is that I will come off somewhere in the middle of that. At the same time, I am sure she is wondering what it is I make of her and her choices in life. They are, I imagine, good choices for her. She sounds happy and proud of her family, which is no mean feat.
But I wonder how much we try to sugar coat it for others. No really, I'm fine, no worries, not a care in the world, couldn't be happier, said in much less bald terms. Because we fear that we don't measure up - as is evidenced by my immediate assessment that I either sound really happy or like I am one step away from pushing a shopping cart filled with all my worldly belongings.
It brought me to mind of another such encounter, oddly enough this old and dear friend was there too, now that I think of it. It was at my ten year reunion, surrounded by people who were finishing doctoral programs, or whose professional careers were really taking off, I was asked what I had been up to. I listed the string of things I had been doing, made some off the cuff remark about how I seemed to change not just jobs but entire careers every two months, and felt like an idiot among all these people. But then a woman whose life I very much envied (she was finishing her doctorate at Stanford!) sighed and said, "wow, what an interesting life you are having. I feel so boring, all I've done since graduation is go to school."
These always seem to come as timely reminders for me. A reminder that the mirror I hold up to look at myself is often much harsher than what others see when they look at me; it is a softer light and one that I think I need to see myself in more often.
Friday, December 25, 2009
Sunday, December 13, 2009
What is the Self Worth?
As days drag into weeks and weeks drag into months of this period of unemployment, I begin to question why so much of our self worth is tied up in what we do. It came to me this evening when I had yet another of those lovely emails that start out "thank you for your interest in..." and end with "decided to pursue other candidates." Yes, at least the company is taking the time to let me know and I appreciate it. But when the application was made late on a Saturday and the response comes early on a Sunday, you just know that no human has looked at your resume. It makes me angry. And hurt. And frustrated. Once again I am being rejected out of hand. Because...wait for it... I am apparently rejectable, apparently worthless, apparently useless. Because I am unemployed and that makes me a loser.
Whoa - wait! How did I get from one computer spitting out my resume to being worthless? Seriously - how does anyone make that kind of leap of reasoning, wholly without net or safety harness? I think we all do. For various reasons. We don't have the title, or the success or the position we envisioned - or worse yet - that we think we are supposed to want. But then throw in a lay off, the rigors of that weekly unemployment filing with the endless questions, the log of jobs applied for and the feeling of suspicion that surround it and suddenly it can be very hard to haul yourself out of bed in the morning.
I am unemployed, laid off from a company that was seriously foundering. I wasn't fired due to some heinous mistake, or due to an overwhelming series of small but consistent goofs. It just happened. To me and a large number of my fellow citizens. But what I am not is a loser, a slacker, a dolist, or even that currently trendy term - a victim of the current economic crisis. So I choose to not believe that I am somehow worthless because I didn't happen to hit enough of the key words in my resume to make a computer happy.
I expected that there would be a certain level of rejection. I never expected that I would get the first job I applied for. So now I fight the cumulative effect of it all. I am so much more than what is scribbled onto two sheets of paper. All that was passed over was a list of my previous jobs, a sampling of some of my work accomplishments, and some nice formatting. It wasn't an indictment of who I am.
Whoa - wait! How did I get from one computer spitting out my resume to being worthless? Seriously - how does anyone make that kind of leap of reasoning, wholly without net or safety harness? I think we all do. For various reasons. We don't have the title, or the success or the position we envisioned - or worse yet - that we think we are supposed to want. But then throw in a lay off, the rigors of that weekly unemployment filing with the endless questions, the log of jobs applied for and the feeling of suspicion that surround it and suddenly it can be very hard to haul yourself out of bed in the morning.
I am unemployed, laid off from a company that was seriously foundering. I wasn't fired due to some heinous mistake, or due to an overwhelming series of small but consistent goofs. It just happened. To me and a large number of my fellow citizens. But what I am not is a loser, a slacker, a dolist, or even that currently trendy term - a victim of the current economic crisis. So I choose to not believe that I am somehow worthless because I didn't happen to hit enough of the key words in my resume to make a computer happy.
I expected that there would be a certain level of rejection. I never expected that I would get the first job I applied for. So now I fight the cumulative effect of it all. I am so much more than what is scribbled onto two sheets of paper. All that was passed over was a list of my previous jobs, a sampling of some of my work accomplishments, and some nice formatting. It wasn't an indictment of who I am.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
The View from the Other Side
Last week was a bit emotional for me. A lot of changes, some expected, some out of the blue. I packed up my life - again (amazing how much stuff I can live without!) and drove south to the Bay Area. My day to day life has a surreal quality about it now, packing up my stuff, driving two days through mountains, snow and olive trees - just another day. It is easy to fall into that routine of no routine and begin to believe that this here, this is normality.
As I settled into yet another spare room, battling with a cold (sniffling and sneezing and gasping for air are hardly the foundations for insight and inspiration), I began to question if anything was ever going to be even a pale imitation of what my life has been for the last decade. Not in a 'woe is me' kind of way, but more in a 'hey I wonder if that shirt comes in any color other than mustard' sort of way. Philosophical, detached, neither sad nor despairing, but not motivating and uplifting either.
Then it happened, a friend dropped a line - she had just been laid off. This is a lovely woman who has done her level best to keep in touch since my 'separation' from the company. One of the only ones to have done so. I was floored. She is a fixture, or was fixture. And now she too is on the bread lines, as it were. What was interesting to me was my reaction. I felt happy for her. Happy? Really? She just lost her job.
Yes. Happy. Because she was good and truly stuck there. A smart, savvy woman capable of so much but allowed only to function in a very narrow window. The curse of being an admin. But now she is free. Free to find someplace that values her for her myriad of skills, a place that will be thrilled to have such a person and will do their damnedest to keep her. But wait - that applies to me as well. I was set free, too. Free to do all those things.
This morning I find that I have a renewed energy to look at those job openings. I find that I am more willing to be assertive in my cover letters. Looking at her layoff from this end of the spectrum has been enlightening indeed. Invigorating, even. Maybe we all need to be on the other side of the mirror every now and again, to get that view of ourselves.
As I settled into yet another spare room, battling with a cold (sniffling and sneezing and gasping for air are hardly the foundations for insight and inspiration), I began to question if anything was ever going to be even a pale imitation of what my life has been for the last decade. Not in a 'woe is me' kind of way, but more in a 'hey I wonder if that shirt comes in any color other than mustard' sort of way. Philosophical, detached, neither sad nor despairing, but not motivating and uplifting either.
Then it happened, a friend dropped a line - she had just been laid off. This is a lovely woman who has done her level best to keep in touch since my 'separation' from the company. One of the only ones to have done so. I was floored. She is a fixture, or was fixture. And now she too is on the bread lines, as it were. What was interesting to me was my reaction. I felt happy for her. Happy? Really? She just lost her job.
Yes. Happy. Because she was good and truly stuck there. A smart, savvy woman capable of so much but allowed only to function in a very narrow window. The curse of being an admin. But now she is free. Free to find someplace that values her for her myriad of skills, a place that will be thrilled to have such a person and will do their damnedest to keep her. But wait - that applies to me as well. I was set free, too. Free to do all those things.
This morning I find that I have a renewed energy to look at those job openings. I find that I am more willing to be assertive in my cover letters. Looking at her layoff from this end of the spectrum has been enlightening indeed. Invigorating, even. Maybe we all need to be on the other side of the mirror every now and again, to get that view of ourselves.
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Thankfulness
About six years ago now, I had an annus horriblus; two friends died of cancer, my nephew took his own life, my mentor died suddenly of a burst aneurysm, my grandmother died - and oh yeah, my cat of 21 years also passed away. A terrible year indeed. There were days I was afraid to answer the phone, days I was afraid to go outside, days I was afraid I would never be anything other than heartbroken and sad ever again. If the Universe was trying to teach me something, it had my attention.
I recall one day when I made what I thought was a humble request. I was standing at the beach at Torrey Pines, a lovely place between La Jolla and Del Mar - a wild and beautiful little stretch of beach where I often went to think. A storm had hammered the area most of the night before; the sky was a steely gray, as was the ocean; and the waves came in feral, foam tipped waves that perfectly matched the way I was feeling - tumultuous and angry. Standing there on the sand, chilled from the wind, feeling the spray of the water as it slapped onto the beach, I looked out at the water and asked for just a day. A day in which no one died, no one got ill, no bad news or upsets. Okay, yes, it was melodramatic, but it felt very real at the time. I figured a day was not to much to ask, just 24 little hours. It was, I reasoned, the lesson the Universe was trying to teach me - be thankful for those hours in which everything is fine.
It's been six years now. Six years filled with a lot of days in which everything was fine. I began to take it for granted again. Easy to do when things are good. Weeks go by with nary a negative event. Friends and family are healthy, the bills get paid, vacations are planned and even sometimes taken. Thankfulness becomes complacency.
But tonight; of course it would be tonight; I am reclaiming that thankfulness. Because in the last year there have been a lot of bumps in the road. But for every bump, there has been a bright spot. A friend diagnosed with cancer this time last year has waged an epic battle and one year on is on the cusp of being free of the disease. I was laid off - but from a job that I didn't especially enjoy but couldn't seem to muster the gumption to leave. So four months on, still unemployed I feel a renewed sense of finding and following my bliss; just to name a couple of the biggies - and in between there have been little moments of disappointment, always followed by aha moments of understanding. Everything happens for a reason.
So tonight I am thankful for so very many things. For a friend getting better, for new horizons, for good people, friends old and new, for new adventures, new lessons yet to be learned. I am thankful for big brothers, silly dogs, wonderful (and silly) nephews and a bright and beautiful niece. For all the hours in which things are good and calm and peaceful. And I am thankful for a rainy, stormy night in Portland that gave me the time to slow down and see it all.
I recall one day when I made what I thought was a humble request. I was standing at the beach at Torrey Pines, a lovely place between La Jolla and Del Mar - a wild and beautiful little stretch of beach where I often went to think. A storm had hammered the area most of the night before; the sky was a steely gray, as was the ocean; and the waves came in feral, foam tipped waves that perfectly matched the way I was feeling - tumultuous and angry. Standing there on the sand, chilled from the wind, feeling the spray of the water as it slapped onto the beach, I looked out at the water and asked for just a day. A day in which no one died, no one got ill, no bad news or upsets. Okay, yes, it was melodramatic, but it felt very real at the time. I figured a day was not to much to ask, just 24 little hours. It was, I reasoned, the lesson the Universe was trying to teach me - be thankful for those hours in which everything is fine.
It's been six years now. Six years filled with a lot of days in which everything was fine. I began to take it for granted again. Easy to do when things are good. Weeks go by with nary a negative event. Friends and family are healthy, the bills get paid, vacations are planned and even sometimes taken. Thankfulness becomes complacency.
But tonight; of course it would be tonight; I am reclaiming that thankfulness. Because in the last year there have been a lot of bumps in the road. But for every bump, there has been a bright spot. A friend diagnosed with cancer this time last year has waged an epic battle and one year on is on the cusp of being free of the disease. I was laid off - but from a job that I didn't especially enjoy but couldn't seem to muster the gumption to leave. So four months on, still unemployed I feel a renewed sense of finding and following my bliss; just to name a couple of the biggies - and in between there have been little moments of disappointment, always followed by aha moments of understanding. Everything happens for a reason.
So tonight I am thankful for so very many things. For a friend getting better, for new horizons, for good people, friends old and new, for new adventures, new lessons yet to be learned. I am thankful for big brothers, silly dogs, wonderful (and silly) nephews and a bright and beautiful niece. For all the hours in which things are good and calm and peaceful. And I am thankful for a rainy, stormy night in Portland that gave me the time to slow down and see it all.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
If I Had a Million Dollars
What a fun game - to imagine what you would do if you had a million dollars. Anything you wanted (as long as it is legal, of course). Graduate school perhaps? Buy a great house? Get a new car? Hey - maybe travel for an entire year! Say a new country every month (okay, Spain and Italy get two months each - those places are huge!). Ride freighters all over the world. Buy an around the world ticket. Start a non-profit. Fund a non-profit. Start a business. Run for office The possibilities are endless, really.
What a dangerous game. Dangerous? Yes. Because if you could do that with a million dollars, why can't you do it now? I can hear the denials piling up in my brain as I type that. What about the debt I already have? How would I, could I ever do any of that without that money? Still, I have to believe that if I put my mind to it, I could do it. Maybe it would take some work and planning and research and organization. But I am pretty sure that I could do it. Sure, I might fall flat on my face during the execution of it, and yet wouldn't it be fun - or at least exhilarating - to try?
I keep reading all these books on the 'new economy,' ones that tell me that the time is now to take chances. Ones that say that rarely has there been a better time to start a business or take a risk. And maybe I am falling for the propaganda. Still, there is something in there that sounds plausible to me. That maybe, just maybe I don't actually need a million dollars, that I don't need to win the lottery to make my dreams come true. Maybe all I need is to actually act on my dreams. Really, it's kind of like the slogan you always hear for that self same lottery - you can't win if you don't play.
What a dangerous game. Dangerous? Yes. Because if you could do that with a million dollars, why can't you do it now? I can hear the denials piling up in my brain as I type that. What about the debt I already have? How would I, could I ever do any of that without that money? Still, I have to believe that if I put my mind to it, I could do it. Maybe it would take some work and planning and research and organization. But I am pretty sure that I could do it. Sure, I might fall flat on my face during the execution of it, and yet wouldn't it be fun - or at least exhilarating - to try?
I keep reading all these books on the 'new economy,' ones that tell me that the time is now to take chances. Ones that say that rarely has there been a better time to start a business or take a risk. And maybe I am falling for the propaganda. Still, there is something in there that sounds plausible to me. That maybe, just maybe I don't actually need a million dollars, that I don't need to win the lottery to make my dreams come true. Maybe all I need is to actually act on my dreams. Really, it's kind of like the slogan you always hear for that self same lottery - you can't win if you don't play.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Decking the Halls
The Holiday season is fast approaching, and there seems to be very little anyone can do to get out of it's path. Don't get me wrong, I love big holiday dinners, can't get enough of turkey, stuffing and pumpkin pie. I love little twinkling lights on trees and houses. I love the idea of wrapping gifts in beautiful, festive papers and ribbons. I love the idea of the holidays. I am not always so fond of the reality of them.
For some reason I have a picture of the holidays in my head that vaguely resembles something that Norman Rockwell would have painted. Snowy landscapes, children on sleds, a comely, slightly zaftig maternal type happily industrious in the kitchen while the handsome and grey templed paternal type cheerfully fixes some toy for a youngster. Sadly, my view of the holidays more closely resembles a cheesy 50's sit-com than reality has tried to teach me. The truth is that my holiday experiences have been Kafka-esque than Rockwell-esque (and by Kafka, it leans decidedly more towards The Trial than it does Metamorphosis. Seemed important to clarify that...).
I'm not trying to disparage big family holidays. I know people who have them and genuinely love them. However, such holidays just have not been the majority of my experience, and I am always surprised by how many people I know who feel the sane way. People who want family gatherings to be something more (or less) than what we end up getting. We walk in with the high hopes, only to leave feeling oddly disconcerted and unfulfilled.
Since I have finally faced the fact that the holidays for me are far more existential than quintessential, I am a happier person. Now that the unrealistic expectations have been set aside, holiday time has become much more enjoyable; in fact, the holidays that I spend alone are really quite lovely in my book. And that is what seems to baffle most everyone I know - why in heaven's name would anyone choose to be alone at Thanksgiving; or worse, at Christmas???
It is because in those moments I can bask in what I love about my family, what I love about my friends, and enjoy the quiet solitude of that affection and admiration. Move that Rockwell painting a little to the left and you will see the person sitting in the snowy clearing, alone and content, appreciating the hush of the forest, drinking in the landscape, just being in that moment. Happy because they know that the house is just over there; where there are family and friends and noise and chaos, ever changing but ever constant; still within reach, but at a happy distance. That person? That would be me.
For some reason I have a picture of the holidays in my head that vaguely resembles something that Norman Rockwell would have painted. Snowy landscapes, children on sleds, a comely, slightly zaftig maternal type happily industrious in the kitchen while the handsome and grey templed paternal type cheerfully fixes some toy for a youngster. Sadly, my view of the holidays more closely resembles a cheesy 50's sit-com than reality has tried to teach me. The truth is that my holiday experiences have been Kafka-esque than Rockwell-esque (and by Kafka, it leans decidedly more towards The Trial than it does Metamorphosis. Seemed important to clarify that...).
I'm not trying to disparage big family holidays. I know people who have them and genuinely love them. However, such holidays just have not been the majority of my experience, and I am always surprised by how many people I know who feel the sane way. People who want family gatherings to be something more (or less) than what we end up getting. We walk in with the high hopes, only to leave feeling oddly disconcerted and unfulfilled.
Since I have finally faced the fact that the holidays for me are far more existential than quintessential, I am a happier person. Now that the unrealistic expectations have been set aside, holiday time has become much more enjoyable; in fact, the holidays that I spend alone are really quite lovely in my book. And that is what seems to baffle most everyone I know - why in heaven's name would anyone choose to be alone at Thanksgiving; or worse, at Christmas???
It is because in those moments I can bask in what I love about my family, what I love about my friends, and enjoy the quiet solitude of that affection and admiration. Move that Rockwell painting a little to the left and you will see the person sitting in the snowy clearing, alone and content, appreciating the hush of the forest, drinking in the landscape, just being in that moment. Happy because they know that the house is just over there; where there are family and friends and noise and chaos, ever changing but ever constant; still within reach, but at a happy distance. That person? That would be me.
Friday, October 23, 2009
Darwinism and the Job Hunt
Everyone thinks of Darwinism as survival of the fittest - the smartest, fastest, strongest survive while the weak are thrown to the lionesses pursuing the pack. But that isn't really what Darwin said. In fact what he said was:
The reason I am mulling this over arises from my own metamorphosis from employee to job hunter and possible entrepreneur. I am soaking in change to the point that my fingers are pruney. Normally change is not a big deal for me - I have picked up and moved three times now to new places with no job. I survived. I have been laid off a grand total of 6 times (including my infamous twice in one week incident), I have returned to school after a long hiatus, and I have made forays into foreign countries by myself. And while during the actual events there was some fear and upheaval and doubts, I did just fine.
So hear I sit, rounding out month 3 without a job (I count from the time my severance ended, and don't include my 5 weeks in Europe, because that would seem overly dramatic), working some stuff in the background for self employment and actively job hunting, and it is still a little scary. I know I will survive. Because I can adapt. I can change. That's my mantra for the week. Slightly reminiscent of Clint Eastwood in Heartbreak Ridge, but I will take it.
“It is not the strongest of the species that survives, nor the most intelligent that survives. It is the one that is the most adaptable to change.”Which is a very different thing. The fastest might outrun the lions and survive today, sure, but long term? It is the one that can adapt to the ever changing environment they live in. My point - and yes I do have one - is that in the current environment, we had all better be able to work with change. Because everything is changing all around us all the time. The way we work, the way we look for work, the way we communicate, the way we spend our leisure hours, the way we do pretty much everything.
The reason I am mulling this over arises from my own metamorphosis from employee to job hunter and possible entrepreneur. I am soaking in change to the point that my fingers are pruney. Normally change is not a big deal for me - I have picked up and moved three times now to new places with no job. I survived. I have been laid off a grand total of 6 times (including my infamous twice in one week incident), I have returned to school after a long hiatus, and I have made forays into foreign countries by myself. And while during the actual events there was some fear and upheaval and doubts, I did just fine.
So hear I sit, rounding out month 3 without a job (I count from the time my severance ended, and don't include my 5 weeks in Europe, because that would seem overly dramatic), working some stuff in the background for self employment and actively job hunting, and it is still a little scary. I know I will survive. Because I can adapt. I can change. That's my mantra for the week. Slightly reminiscent of Clint Eastwood in Heartbreak Ridge, but I will take it.
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