(and yes I know Eva Peron is not exactly a shining role model, but, like I say, I'm a child of the 80s and a child of musical theatre, bear with me...)
So it's all become a bit 'Another Suitcase in another hall' since I got official notification I'm losing my job in June.
It wasn't a surprise, it's nobody's fault (except the Tories, it's defiantly their fault somehow) and I'm fine, I really am. But this song has been running through my head a lot lately.
Ok I'm a tad mellow dramatic, but actually the more I think about it, the more this song is a good breakdown of the end of job scenario I keep ending up in...
'Being used to trouble I anticipate it, but all the same I hate it, wouldn't you?'
Sums up what I've been telling everyone. I'm used to it, it's the way things are. It's just what happens. And it's all true. It's out of everyone's hands, and that's fine, it really is. But that 'wouldn't you' betrays how I really feel. In rooms full of people with secure permanent jobs, who have long since forgotten what it's like to have to search for the next thing, hope that the next move is a good one. I might be used to it, I might be 'hard through and through' but all the same I DO hate it. Getting back on that job train yet again, not entirely sure where it leads. The feeling that people who are secure in their jobs interpret as YOU that is faulty not a system/market that churns out fixed term contract.
And I am used to it. Whether through my own damn bad luck, to find myself at the height of job hunting at the height of economic troubles (over and over again) or my own poor life choices, or whatever. I'm used to it. The bits that are my fault and the bits that aren't. But all the same, it never gets easier.
Suddenly everyone else's success/security seems that much magnified. And having not secured yet the next position is yet another failing in their/my eyes. And so the spiral of self doubt comes. And I keep saying 'I'll be fine, its just how it is' and I do believe it, deep down, because it always has worked out eventually. But all the same I hate it, wouldn't anyone?
And then there's the bigger picture hangs over this whole proceeding, leading to;
'I never fool myself that my dreams will come true'
Because with every knock back it's easy to feel like it's all doomed. Even though in this instance it's out of my hands, it feels like starting over yet again. That once again it's a sign that it's never going to work out. That dreams never come true however hard you work.
Which in the cold light of day is ridiculous. This was never my 'dream job' and actually if you think about it, leaving it is more likely to lead to my dream job...because I will have to do something else, which might be utterly brilliant in itself or which might lead to the something else that is utterly brilliant. And I know I know these things-I just wrote them down. But at this moment, it doesn't feel that way. It feels like another notch of failure, and although 'You'll get by you always have before' it's harder to keep picking yourself up from the knock backs.
It brings up every insecurity, every thought of 'what have I done wrong' or more accurately 'what have they [everyone else out there who of course seems to be doing even better than normal thanks very much] done that I haven't done. What have they got that I don't? I didn't think I could work harder, but clearly everyone else is working harder. But then perhaps it doesn't matter, probably I should just give up, because dreams don't come true, not for you.
And so on and so on.
But it is just Another suitcase in another hall it's not the end of the world. And I know, do know I will bounce back, it will be a case of;
'Call in three months time and I'll be fine I know, well maybe not that fine, but I'll survive anyhow'
I have to believe I'll look back, maybe not in three months. But in six, or a year, and this time around it will have been the best thing to happen to me. Because good things will have happened by then. And even if more awful things do happen, I'll survive anyhow, I'll be fine anyhow. I always am.
And you know what I'd rather find myself bouncing from job to job until the right thing finally happens, than wake up after 30 years and realise I'd made a huge mistake. I'd rather these jobs force me to keep looking for the things that really click, than make me comfortable and safe, and not willing to take the risk and change. It's making me a better employee, it's making me a better person. Certainly a more resilient, stronger person. I keep surviving because honestly what's the alternative? You keep going, keep moving on, and hope that it works out, somewhere somehow. And so far it's always been some version of 'fine anyhow' somewhere along the line, until the next time. So I keep moving.
It doesn't make it less, awful. The mantra I've been using is 'It's not personal, but it is personal' the mechanisms that keep me in fixed term jobs, or chasing jobs that don't exist, aren't personal. Losing a job at any stage (application, interview, in it) is rarely properly personal.
But that brings me to another slightly embarassing mantra of mine, You've Got Mail. (Judge away I don't care, I love it) When Kathleen Kelly is told "It's not personal it's business" she responds with:
"What is that supposed to mean? I am so sick of that. All that means is that it wasn't personal to you. But it was personal to me. It's personal to a lot of people. And what's so wrong with being personal, anyway?"
It is personal. It does hurt every time. Every damn time there's dispair-whether it's a failed job application for the one you really wanted, or the end of a job, that feeling of being spat out once again. Sat on a doorstep with your career suitcase in hand. Another career suitcase in another application cycle hall. Wondering what was so wrong with you to end up here again.
But, I'll get by I always have before. And eventually, one day, my career will look less like the clip above, and more like this (again, no not an ideal career role model, it's a loosely constructed musical theatre metaphor people...)
No comments:
Post a Comment