Rejection hurts (especially five months later)

Today I received a job rejection.

Nothing new about that. I actually couldn't tell you how many I've received over the last say two years. What was unusual about that rejection it was for a job that I'd interviewed for five months ago.

Five. Months.

Now if I'd applied, not heard a thing and eventually got an automated HR email months later that's one thing. Often for application stage you don't hear a thing. That's annoying, but fine. If however I've interviewed, I've prepared, presented, taken time out of my existing work and often travelled. Then I deserve the courtesy of a personal response in a timely fashion.

What I got was a formatted HR email, with the option of "feedback" from someone in HR. Not even someone in the room. I'm going to come out and say it: it's disrespectful, to me, to the work I put into the application, the interview and everything that led to that point. At the very least I should have been offered feedback from someone on the panel, at the very least I'd usually expect a phone call. At the very least I'd expect all of this before five months.

Now this is unusual. It's extreme. But it's indicative of the way a sector is going. Academics, particularly early careers ones are now so many, we've become disposable.

And this is where the dichotomy becomes weird. Because to the wider system we're nothing. Nobody. Ten-a-penny and worthless. I get that, most of us get that who are out there now trying. But at the same time nobody can see us as anything BUT academics. So we're nothing to the wider world, and failures to the academic world.

This is also important when offering condolences to friends who have had rejection. I took this, which was my last ditch attempt at an academic job, as cementing proof of my failure. People on twitter were quick to reach out and assure me it wasn't failure, just re-framing my life.

Here's the thing. When that comes from someone who is a PhD doing something else (and happy)it means the world. More often it comes from a PhD who is an academic, who 'made it' and actually can't imagine doing something else.  Many of them also often lament how horrible academia is, how they 'wish' they were doing something else. And yet, they don't leave. And yet, I know they'd have framed any other path as a failure.

And so what now? I got an interview in my last ditch attempt before taking a temporary job out of academia. That I got that interview made me re-think applying again when something came up- I was a great on paper match for that job, but really what is the point? What is the next move?

Well it's resigning myself once again to failure. I always knew I wasn't good enough. But not being considered even a person enough for a polite timely rejection, that's the stuff that hurts.

"The World only spins foreward" - On not going backwards

"The World only spins foreward"

A wise man once said that. It takes him seven and a half hours of a play to get there, but the main thing is he gets there.

That quote, from Tony Kushner's Angels in America is followed by perhaps the most important line of the whole play 'More Life'. In nearly a decade of living with, studying in various guises, and just having this play as a weird part of me, I think I've finally learn that lesson.

Like Tony, like Prior Walter (who speaks those words) I take a while to get there.

So life update, as it's been a while, I started a new job back in September. It's only temporary (until the end of February). It's fair to say it's not long-term what I want to do, and it's not kind of challenge in work I'm used to or want  etc etc BUT it's arts-related, it's not uninteresting and above all it's a job.

It's been both strange and nice to be out of the academic environment. On one hand I feel like I'm undercover, nobody really knows of my 'other' identity, and I kind of like it that way. On the other it's frustrating that nobody knows about something that has been a big part of my identity until now. In academia your work and you become a part of each other, and it feels strange being separated from that part of me in the eyes of my colleagues. But on the other hand, I feel judged as a person not as a set of academic achievements or lack thereof for once.

I think oftentimes people really didn't believe me when I said 'I'll take anything just to keep going' thinking somewhere I was being snobby about jobs. I wasn't, for the most part those jobs just wouldn't take me. Is it frustrating not being one of the people who does the more challenging work I know I'm more than capable of? sure. Is it frustrating not being able to get a job doing the things I really want to do? of course. Does that mean I'm not grateful for what I have? No.

I am in fact so grateful that someone took a chance on me. That someone looked at the wide range of experience I had and didn't dismiss it but thought they'd give me a chance to do something different. And probably that it's a very short term post helped. But it feels like moving forward, moving on.

I came back to this line yesterday. Where after days of putting myself through hell I came to the simple realization that we only move forward, and to embrace that. This was because my old job, that I had ended, was back. Sort of. Half of it. 2.5 days of it. And I had an interview for it.

It had been a rocky road to getting to the interview. I was assured when I left if they 'rescued' my job then I'd be told about it when it was advertised, but despite my chasing it up by email it seemed the job was never to be. Until I saw it...on Facebook. The person who shared it did so in all innocence, and it's not their fault. But I cried when I saw it. Both the fact that after months of unemployment, of the hard won battle that was that job, of kind of sort of wanting to go back because better the devil you know (or at least better the pay cheque). But nobody had told me about it. I told my Mum what had happened "They really don't like you do they?" she said. I think she was right.

I applied anyway. Out of principle, stubbornness, call it what you will. And I got an interview. I wanted the interview, I wanted to go back in there with all these ideas and show just how good I was for the job, I built that job from nothing and I was proud of it.

But life conspired against me. Long story short there was no way I could get the time off work for the interview without putting my current new job in jeopardy. And it was such a fight to get that job, and they are people who have been good to me. I chose loyalty to my new employer. And I guess I chose to move on.

I also chose, by default more than design, the path of not just accepting whatever can be thrown at you. That job was 2.5 days, and academia has conditioned me to grab any scarp of a job with both hands that is even slightly connected to it. Never mind the scarping around and worrying about money that inevitably comes with it, you HAVE to grab it and you're wrong if you don't. And if it were a dream job maybe, maybe then all the sacrifices are worth it. But not for dream adjacent. Not for kind of but not quite the right fit. I'm slowly learning to value myself more, and to ask others to as well. But it's a hard habit to break the one academia makes of you.

I am sad that I didn't get to that interview. But then I also think of how I'd feel if I didn't get the job. At least I stepped away on my own terms this time, even if it wasn't planned. I do feel, once again, spat out by the system, the one who wasn't quite good enough, quite valued enough for anyone to care. But also that sometimes you need a push. Maybe that was my push. Until being forced to make the decision to say no, I always had one eye behind, the 'What if' factor.

I'm not saying this is the end of me and academia fully, because as I said in another blog on the subject (here)  never say never. But I do feel as if  I have options once again. Last week I also got my first academic job interview in 3 years, and before taking this job I had 3 other non-academic related job interviews, showing that I CAN get in the room, and I do have a chance to do other things too.

So although I'm feeling once again hurt by my old job, and a little bit sad that maybe it wasn't meant to be again, I'm also feeling a sense of renewed energy in going forward.

So as Prior Walter says, at the close of Angels in America 'The world only spins forward' and with it 'More life'. The play also teaches against standing still, and I think I've been doing that for too long, and so onwards. Not backwards, however long it takes.

Start talking (World Mental Health Day)

A week ago as I type this, I was dressed up to, if not the 9s then a pretty solid 7, working as a journalist at the BAFTA Cymru. I'm good at my reporting jobs, I'm well informed, highly researched and confident both in my interview skills and my writing skills. I did a good job as ever last Sunday.

On Saturday I was performing with my choir. I'm also quite good at that. Again I'm not winning any TV talent competitions any time soon, but I'm a solid soprano, and a lifetime of musical theatre obsession gives me performance-face like you wouldn't believe.

That was Saturday and Sunday. What anyone who saw me at either of those events wouldn't know is not half an hour before getting there (actually about 5 minutes on Saturday) I was a mess. I spent the weekend alternating between sobbing, screaming, shouting or feeling like a lifeless lump. I was horrible, I felt horrible. I was horrible to my Mum. Really horrible. And anyone who knows me we’re close, and we get on really well. Seriously it’s like a re-enactment of Gilmore Girls episodes most days in our house. So that’s a sign something is really wrong. I’ve had some pretty rubbish times both recently and in my life as a whole, but I’m pretty sure this weekend ranked in the top worst ten.

Why am I writing this? Aside from a compulsion to share all manner of nonsense on my blog? Well in part exactly that. Because this is something I’ve kept very quiet for a long time.

I have mental health issues, and have done for some time. I have had eating disorders, depression and anxiety. And actually I’ve never really told anyone. Mostly I’m afraid to talk about them, seek help for them, or even admit they exist. And that really should change, for me and for anyone else in the same position.

I’m finally putting those words down for two main reasons. Firstly, the day I’m publishing this, 10^th October, is world mental health day, and while we shouldn’t need a day to start a conversation, sometimes everyone needs a little nudge.

Secondly, as part of my BAFTA Cymru evening I had the pleasure of interviewing Tim Rhys Evans, founder/musical conductor of Only Men Aloud. Someone I’d admired for many years for his musical work, but also more recently for the reason he was at the awards- a documentary entitled ‘Tim Rhys Evans-all in the mind’ about his struggles with mental health. During our interview, where we touched on the importance of sharing stories about mental health Tim said how the nomination gave an opportunity to talk about the film again and in particular giving him chance to talk to ‘people like you’ meaning journalists, to keep getting the message out there.

I couldn’t stop thinking about that, and other aspects of our conversation, and as a result two things occurred to me (this is a blog of twos). 1. Tim was right, there is a very basic need to keep talking about mental health. 2. If he could be brave enough to share his story in such a raw, honest way, then I could share a bit of mine too.  So here goes…

I’m not mentally healthy. I haven’t been for a long time. Possibly ever. But I don’t know for certain, because I’ve always been too scared to ask for help when I need it. I don’t feel “sick” enough to ask for help. I don’t feel I “should” ask for help. And because mostly I get by, but sometimes I have a day, or a weekend, or a week that looks like last weekend.

And I write this to say these things manifest in different ways for different people. For me one way, as with last weekend it becomes an issue of body confidence. No matter what I know rationally, nobody will convince me I am not hugely fat, and have in fact put on an enormous amount of weight and that as a result am a worthless human being. Or I will be convinced that everyone I have ever met hates me and in fact wants nothing to do with me. Ever. Or that whatever I am trying to do that day will go horribly wrong to the most extremes, and I will be utterly convinced of that-that by the end of the day I’ll be fired from my job with no hope of future employment. All of these are utter, undeniable facts to me when my head is in this state. Or in a more depressive state of mind, that nothing will ever change no matter what I do, that whatever is bad right now will always be so, and it is worthless even trying-I am worthless. I’ll remain jobless or in a dead end job, I’ll be single forever and probably all my friends will abandon me too.


All of this written down would seem ridiculous if I were writing a fictional character but in my head at any given time they are the utter gospel truth.  

And so last weekend I was both a worthless fat person, who was doomed never to fulfil professional potential, whose friends and acquaintances also no doubt hated her and wanted her gone forever. And then sometimes, as happened last weekend all of this is accompanied by endless sobbing (that’s the depression element talking) and anger (that’s the anxiety) and a general inability to think straight, and sometimes even to breathe.

Even as I write that I think of people reading this and saying to me either ‘stop being a drama queen’ (which on a ‘healthy’ day, granted I can be) or ‘don’t be ridiculous, we all have bad times, and you’ve had a rough few months, snap out of it’ And it’s true I have, a period of unemployment and questioning my personal and professional identity post PhD certainly have contributed to my current state of mind. And I say yes, this time life events have been a factor. And in a way it’s easier when there is some sort of event to link it to, because then there’s something to work towards, or away from. Those are the lucky times. It’s the irrational out of the blue for no damn good reason times that I struggle to explain even to myself. But then you look at the world, the often terrible world we live in and think ‘I’ve no right to feel this bad about my life’ and yet you do, and so you feel worse.

For me also, that I do function pretty well 90% of the time, is in fact a barrier to acknowledging something is wrong. Most of the time. I shouldn’t have to. Nobody should have to feel ashamed.

But I, like many others keep all of this as hidden as I can. Until I can’t anymore. But because I don’t talk about it, because we don’t talk about it, people don’t see the real reasons. They just see me being a bitch, or being irrational, or over emotional. And sometimes I am being those things, because I’m human as well. But sometimes I’m not, and sometimes I can’t control it, and sometimes the really bad times, it controls me.

And I like so many others keep quiet for many reasons. The usual reasons, that people will make judgements, that they will think I’m weak, or broken or even worse that there’s nothing really wrong with me. Or that I’m making it up. Because nobody cares, and everyone worries about things right? The same way everyone gets a bit sad? And how do you explain to someone who has never felt that way? It’s like trying to explain to someone a migraine isn’t just a nasty headache, or that a broken bone isn’t like a really terrible sprain.


And it's seemingly a little thing that takes over your life. These last few months, when things have been particularly rough, nothing quite works right. I can't write-I actually envy those supposed great writers who channelled their depression and other things into something great. When I'm not feeling myself I can't write, I can't do the thing I love, and it frustrates me no end. I also lose the joy I find in music a lot, I struggle to sing, or even listen to music. Everything is just a bit grey. And it's so often so very difficult to explain to people why. Or more importantly feel it's ok to explain to people why.


I don't come from a family or background where we talk about these things. I've been in a career where any sign of weakness is seized upon by vultures looking for a way to bring you down. And I've had enough, I'm exhausted. It's like fighting a battle twice over every time.

If we could all talk about it, in the same way we come into work in the morning and say ‘Sorry I’ve got a terrible cold’ then it would make things so much easier. We could all be a little more understanding, a little more honest. If we could explain that my head makes me feel like everyone hates me, in the same way that I can explain when I get a cold my eyes stream so much I look like I’m crying, then it would be so much easier.

It’s been a long, long road getting to type these words. And I think it’s going to be a difficult moment to hit that ‘publish’ button. But I have cultivated a bit of a voice in this blog, and I want it to be an honest one.

This was a BIG conversation. On 10^th October, for World Mental Health day, if I could ask everyone reading this one thing, it’s to have a small conversation. Ask someone how they are, and really listen. Or tell someone how you’re really feeling. And keep asking, and keep talking. Sometimes one small conversation is all it takes to get someone on the road to helping themselves.

I found mine in a really unlikely place through my job interviewing someone who had been far braver than me in sharing the things we keep far too hidden. So please, start talking, keep talking everyone.

A bit broken

This week while scrolling through LinkedIn in the vague hope of a job lead, I saw a post which said (to paraphrase) "I'm unemployed for the first time in my life...until next week when I start my new amazing job"

Hahaha you're bloody hilarious.

Actually no, you're an utter cockwomble. I'm pleased you have a new job random stranger (it was one of those you see a connection's comment moments) and by all means shout it from the rooftops-I'm serious, yes be pleased you've probably earned it (or just got lucky, I don't know you). But don't be a cockwomble. In any climate making fun of those less fortunate isn't nice, in employment terms many good, hardworking talented people are struggling to get a job, and to them 'I'm unemployed hahaha' just isn't a joke.

People think 'unemployed' and they think either of useless bums watching Jeremy Kyle (or indeed on Jeremy Kyle) who don't want to work. Or they think perhaps of a down on luck person who is actually having a quite nice break from work until a job reappears. The number of times 'Oh what I'd give for a nice break' has been uttered in my direction.

Two things, firstly, yes a break of about a month between jobs is very nice thank you, long enough to feel like a proper pause, not long enough that you either run out of money or indeed things to do. Longer and things aren't as great. I also get a lot of 'well you should write your PhD book' or 'Use the time productivly'. I do use the time productively, in looking for a job.

An average day involves getting up, probably going to the gym then a day of searching for jobs and applying for them. Some days searching can take much of the day. Others its writing an application, maybe two if they're quick. The searching takes so long because you have to go through all the sites you know are useful. Bookmark the potential ones. Go back, read over them. Eliminate a few with things you realise aren't suitable. Go back again, read in detail, establish which ones might be suitable, make a list of deadlines. And repeat. Often of all that searching you'll get one viable job. This I do for between 5-7 hours a day. Sometimes yes I break it up with an afternoon gym trip or a break to meet a friend, but usually I return to it a bit in the evening too. I would LOVE to have dedicated this summer to writing but the reality is the need for a job outweighs that, and the pressure to find a job means I can concentrate on little else.

And yes, I haven't been a recluse this summer. I'm lucky in that I review theatre for various publications, so I get to go for free in exchange for my reviews. And that due to planning ahead I have several (paid for) events in my diary. And that I have many friends who are equally broke and happy to meet for a coffee or a cheap drink. But without work, and being careful about social engagements, days are long and it feels like the world very much carries on without you. And it can be incredibly lonely. It can feel like you've dropped off the face of the earth and nobody would notice if you ever reappeared. And it starts to feel like nobody cares anymore.

And it's a drain. It wears you down. And I confess this week I reached rock bottom. The above was an average day. Do you want to know what I did on Tuesday? I cried. I cried from around 7.30am to around 1pm. I went for a run, I cried some more. I cam back and stared at my computer screen. I did nothing. I got up the next day feeling horrendous for wasting a day.

It's not just the three months of job hunting that has worn me down-though it's enough to make anyone miserable. It's four years of a PhD and a year of the worst job I ever had. And it's broken me. I have no confidence left, and I am genuinely scared to take risks, take a leap on the next thing, whatever you want to call it. Because I have had just 7 or so years of it all going badly.

My PhD was an unmitigated disaster from start to finish. Looking back, seeing how I was manipulated into it, and had that held over me by an older male academic for the next 5 years (there's a blog on that some day). To having revolving door supervisors (one through no fault of their own who I respect greatly), to supervisors falling out with each other, to being rejected by supervisors who refused to carry on supervising. Then there was the internship I worked on remotely for six months, with the promise of a summer placement in New York. I saved up, booked accommodation and flights and it got cancelled the week before. Leaving me with no summer work and massive debt. Then there was the time my then best friend got me fired from a job, for reasons I still don't know. And finally the job where I was bullied by colleagues, and nobody cared.  A job where people threw out my food and unscrewed lights above my desk, and stalked my Twitter (hello there if you still have nothing better to do). A job where the entire office felt my role was useless and indeed my whole discipline was a joke. Back in academia, there was finding a group of academics I finally fit in with, only to have their 'Queen Bee' take a dislike and drive me out. The constant rejection and realisation I was never going to be good enough finally wearing me down to give up. All of this, the last 7 years, and I am broken. And I am done.

All of that to say, it's not just three months out of work and an incredibly frustrating job search at that, which has made me the frankly miserable bastard I currently am. It's cumulative. It's not just being fussy about a job, or being an idiot, or immature or whatever label you want to slap on it. Anyone who has done a PhD knows it takes a psycholgical toll, even if you have a really good expereince. It takes time to move on from that. And I was spectucularly unlucky in that and what followed.

Being both unemployed, and the afore mentioned miserable bastard, does teach you a lesson in who your friends are. I'm lucky to have some wonderful friends, who will listen whether in person or from afar. Who will reason with me, or reassure me, or just send me a video of a seal playing a saxophone (true story). And there are wonderful people on twitter who share this experience and reach out time adn time again in solidarity and for that I'm so grateful. But it's hard. It's hard when you feel very much alone, and there's no end in sight.

And then you add to that the idea that you are sitting there in your PJ's watching Jeremy Kyle. That somehow you're not working hard enough even though you're going cross-eyed from formating applicaiton forms. Or when it feels like everyone else is getting ahead but you.

I have tried this summer to keep my metaphorical chin up. To keep going. To be cheery. To know it will get better. To just keep at it.

Well this week Autumn arrived (ish) and I'm a bit broken now. I know it will pick up again, I know one day it will be all right. But that doesn't mean it isn't utter, utter relentless crap now.

"It's not personal it's business" and other lies

"It's not personal it's business." is a great quote from 'The Godfather' (so I'm told, I've never seen The Godfather). I've been thinking of a variation on that a lot lately, "It is personal to me, it's personal to a lot of people. And what's so wrong with being personal anyway?" Answer at the end as to where that's from. 

I've been thinking about that, and a lot of related things as I think about my job hunt, and a transition away from academia and the PhD. And the things I want to address two main themes, firstly that idea of the personal, about what you do and who you are. And secondly, how your job (or lack of) your career and personal life choices and the 'right' way to do that, cause all sorts of judgement. 

Nobody who ever survived a PhD will tell you it wasn't personal. It takes giving a lot of yourself to get to that end point. It's like no other form of 'studying' it's like no other course you do, it takes a bit of you with it, for a while at least. And for many you don't get there without the PhD being connected in some way to something you care about. Again you wouldn't read all those things, write all those words without somewhere at some point caring. It's personal, deeply so at times. 

It's also, as I've mentioned on other blogs, something as a career you throw your whole self into. It is an all-consuming profession, and lines are blurred between leisure and work particularly for us who study things like theatre, literature, music, media because our 'normal' interests fuse with our professional ones, in ways I don't imagine they do if you're say, an accountant. And you put a lot of energy into that work, into the paid work and the unpaid work (of which there's much more than the paid). And a lot of that work rests on you, your name, your work. It is incredibly personal. 

And while I maintain that work/job title doesn't define who you are, if you've done a PhD/been a part of academia it is very much a part of your identity. And when you take it away, that's a change to deal with. And when you make a decision or are forced into another path, it's not just like taking another job. Your identity feels like it has changed, it's not just business, it is personal. 

So that's in part why I plea for patience as I ride out this shift. I didn't just end a contract or lose a job. I’m not just looking for a job this summer. I'm changing, I'm having to leave something behind that I was for a long time. And it's not easy. It's not just a business transaction from one form of paid work to another. It's a shift in identity. And that's personal to me. 

Added to that is the pressure that I've somehow missed some vital milestones in life. Like marriage, children, home ownership. That these things have never meant much to me personally seem immaterial to other people. Someone asked me last week what was 'wrong' with me that I was still single. Nothing is wrong with me I've just been busy, and finding a partner has never been a driving force in my life. It's nice, sure, but it's not the only thing. 

The idea though, that I'm doing life 'wrong' simply based on the fact that I'm not hitting a list of artificial markers of adulthood. Or that I'm somehow not actually adult enough because I'm not hitting them is hurtful. The idea that I should put up, shut up and get a job any job so that I can find a husband, buy a house and have a baby and ONLY THEN am I permitted to complain because THEN I am a REAL grown up with real grown up problems. Well frankly it's both insensitive and its bullshit. 

I worry as much about money and security and my future as my friends with houses and husbands and babies. More so sometimes I think, because it's just me. On my own. No partner's salary next time a job ends. Nobody else contributing to the bills. No second family to ask for help from-hell no first family in my case. It's fucking scary out there as a single person trying to get by without a safety net. So don't tell me I'm not a grown up. 

And it's all personal, because it's my life. To outsiders looking in I'm just a person who can't get a job. And maybe they think that's a shame, maybe they wonder what's wrong with me. Maybe they've never had the misfortune to be unemployed and think it's not so bad. 

And maybe you do say 'Don't take it so personally' 

Come and tell me it's not personal when I'm sat at my computer crying on yet another Monday when there's no jobs to even apply for. When I get another email rejection for a job I know I was qualified for. That it's not personal when you apply for minimum wage jobs and can't get those. That it's not personal when your dog has to have emergency surgery or the car breaks down and you know you can't pay your Mum back for who knows how long. When it's been days since you've been out. When you have to turn down going for dinner because you can't afford to eat in the restaurant. When friends stop replying to messages and you feel like they don't want to know you anymore. Tell me it's not personal to feel like all the years of hard work were all for nothing. 

And none of the reasons I haven't found a job are personal (well actually one was, but screw them) but that doesn't mean I don't feel it personally. 

It's not personal, it's business. That is true. But it's also personal to a lot of people. 

*And the quote was from 'You've Got Mail' because I'm an uncultured swine, as this blog discusses. 

But what do you "Really" want to do (and other annoying questions)

So after last week's post about doing the unthinkable and turning down an academic job interview (here) there comes the inevitable question of 'What now?'

Well that's the question isn't it. And the short answer being:

1. If I knew I'd tell you.
2. It's not that simple.

The most, not even 'infuriating' but actually downright upsetting comment/question I get is 'What do you REALLY want to do?' The honest and also heartbreaking truth is 'This. What I've been trying to do for the past 10 years'.

I'm not saying I've done it right or even well (clearly) but I have been going after what I 'really' wanted. The dual ambition of getting a PhD-just getting the PhD itself was something I felt I personally needed to tick off- and with that thinking, at least when I started, that academia was for a time a part of that plan. Simultaneously I also wanted to work in the arts, specifically theatre. Neither was a 'back up plan' they were back ups to each other. Equally I'd aimed for both and equally I'd have felt my 'ambitions' had been fulfilled if I'd ended up in either.

I won't go over again the feelings about academia, that's well documented in the past few blogs. A combination of failure to be good enough, and the feeling it was just not 'me' anymore has led me to here. As I said last week, never say never. But I also fully accept that the person I was when I started my PhD has changed, as has the world around me. And that while sad, disappointing too, is sort of ok (or at least it will be).

The realization that I will really never work in theatre is a more difficult one. I'd always feared (and seen evidence from other people too) that those from an academic background aren't welcomed within theatre and to some extent across the arts (with the exception of the visual arts and museums sector for I guess obvious reasons). Theatre doesn't like academics. Theatre doesn't think somehow that we're as knowledgeable as those who put the work together, or that maybe we can do both? My personal take is that no, I don't have all of the knowledge that those practically making theatre have, I have different knowledge, and surely bringing different perspectives are what we're about? I can't work out if theatre doesn't like academics as a whole, or if it just doesn't like me. This week I because convinced it was the latter.

It broke my heart (and I'm not using that lightly) this week to have a conversation where it became clear I wasn't considered knowledgeable or passionate about theatre.  That conversation this week, though not intended as malicious or hurtful, broke me. Sadly also theatre is very much an industry of 'who you know' and 'your face doesn't fit' and that's also sad. But after nearly 10 years of getting that door slammed in my face, I'm done. I don't have any more fight left in me.

So in answer to the question 'What do you really want to do?' I'm afraid I don't know. Because the thing I've really tried to do I failed at on both counts. I know I'm not the first or the last, I'm not trying to make out I'm special. Just I don't have any answer to that question.

So what else? So what now?

Well I could just accept my fate, take a variety of admin jobs and poodle along. I could do whatever I need to do to return to school teaching. Neither of these are appealing, but they're alternatives to an endless fight for something I've no hope in I guess.

In terms of  maybe what I 'really' want to do that isn't the above....I don't know.

Hand on heart, all I ever wanted to do was write in some way or form. Hand on heart if I could have a 'dream' job now, I'd be a freelance writer. I'd write the most weird/mundane/awful shit if someone would pay me to. That is my 'dream' job. I've always harboured a secret desire to be a Ghostwriter of biographies, this is a weird interest I think really suits my talents. But it's another impossible dream. So what now?

In terms of 'real' jobs. I don't know. If I could pick anything I'd probably ask to reset the clock and go back to the point at which I decided not to take a Law conversion course and pursue my PhD dream. Or reset the clock even further and do something in Policing as I said I would in school. Or reset further and take STEM subjects at A level.

But I can't reset the clock. And my 'what I really wanted to do' I tried to do, and failed. And that's sort of ok, sort of not. Because at least I tried, and boy did I try. But at 32 (well next week) to be starting over yet again. Having frankly made a right cock up of it all...that's hard.

So no, I don't know the answer to 'what do you really want to do?'

If anyone has any suggestions, the weirder the better, throw them at me and that can be next week's blog post.

Sometimes you need to walk away...

I did the unthinkable last week, I turned down an academic job interview. 

I'll just let that sit there. 

I'd been applying for a variety of jobs as a 'one last time' exercise. And if I'm honest to 'prove' that I wouldn't get them. If that seems a weird mindset I'll explain, there's a weird mindset in academia (ha! that's an understatement in general) that in order to move on, to do something else you need to 'prove' you couldn't do it. Because for many academics there is only one 'it' the holy grail of an academic job. And I guess for my own peace of mind I could say I tried enough now, and I could walk away.

When I got the email about the job I felt a real sense of dread. And then I spent most of last Wednesday crying. That's not an understatement, I spent most of it ugly-cry sobbing. Because I should have wanted it, I should have been thinking 'finally, finally a tiny chance at the academic holy grail'. Let's be honest the chances of me actually getting it were slim at best, but I was scared I would get it. Because I just couldn't have done it. 

Reasons for turning down an interview or even a job offer are firstly, very much your own, and very much within your rights-we spend a lot of time at work, and if you know it isn't the right fit and you can turn it down then do, from someone who has been there it's not worth it. But for a job like this I feel like it's even more important. We can all go to a job we hate and get by if we're able to leave it at the end of the day. It's not fun, it's not good for us but it's do-able.

 Academic jobs, aren't just a job, it's a life. My opinion personally is that it shouldn't be, and we should work to create clearer work/life boundaries, but unfortunately that isn't how things are. For those who don't know, picture a school teacher's workload-we all know what that's like right? For academics, on top of all that (which any teacher will tell you is most evenings until late, and a fair chunk of weekend and holiday time too) there's research. Because to continue being employed you need to research, research well and be prolific. You need to publish papers, pull together a monograph and attend conferences (again over weekends and holidays) You'll need to go into the next job interview with a publication list and a plan for the next things. So quickly the evening and weekend you had disappears further. As with any junior level position the pressure is on in particular to prove yourself in order to progress. 

So that's what it entails. Firstly, let's be clear, I'm not saying this is any more pressured or difficult that many other jobs. I'm just outlining it for those who might not know. What I am saying is this takes dedication, a level of commitment and more importantly to do that it takes a real passion for it. I don't have that. I don't know if it's just not in me or it's been beaten out of me, whether it's gone for good, whether I never had it, whether it will come back. But right now, I know I don't have any of that in me.  I'm not so naive also to think that another job I take won't require any additional work. As someone who has always worked incredibly hard in whatever I have done, the implication that I am somehow lazy or naive about that really hurts.

But academia broke me. There's no other more eloquent way to put it. Getting to the end of my PhD has destroyed my confidence in a way not even years of High School bullying managed. And it's so hard to come out the other side of something you put so much of yourself into only to be told you've failed. I know I can't be an academic because I'm simply not good enough. And on some days that's perfectly fine and on others it utterly destroys me again. It's something that perhaps nobody outside of it can understand, but you put everything into a PhD and most of us put our life on hold to some extent while doing it. To get to the end is an achievement, but in an incestuous field where everyone has that achievement and more it's a case of 'so what?'. I'm not good enough to publish, didn't go to a good enough University to be considered good enough for any jobs. I just don't have what it takes. And that is a difficult thing to come to terms with. And when someone tells you that yes, you wasted that PhD, I can't even begin to articulate how that feels. 

My PhD was one of passion, if it hadn't been, I wouldn't have got to the end. The plays I wrote about I still love passionately; I still have much to say about them. And a PhD was a way of getting someone to listen. Except they didn't. And post PhD you're expected to move on to other academic things. But honestly with a gun to my head I couldn't come up with any ideas, and I certainly don't have the talent to create them even if I did. And a field of academic bullies (yes I'm going that far, I've encountered several) and a field in which the best still isn't good enough, a field in which there is so much competition and negativity and one in which I simply just never fit, has done something to me I might never properly fix. 

And most days, that's alright. I have many other ambitions. I want to write. And I want to write stories, be they plays, novels, articles. I want to use the voice that is natural to me, not the one I'm forced to take on for academic writing. I want to write about the things that interest me in the way that interests me. And mostly that's good, it's ok. But it's still hard to let go of everything you worked for. 

And then there's the figuring it out. The 'what next' and the honest answer of 'I don't know'. I have a long list of things I'd like to do, but no roadmap on how to get there. I'm envious of those who have a clear career path-you train for a thing, you get a job in the thing, or those who stumbled into a job they're happy in one way or another. I'm stumbling, it's just a bit of a longer path. 

But as I'm older I make less apologies about what I want. If I'm taking a job just for a 'pay the bills for now' type job, then no, I don't want it to be the kind of job that takes over my life. I also sacrificed most of my 20s for the PhD, I like having my life outside of work back. Once again I know that in reality all jobs take a little bit of your personal time, but there's a bit of time and there's all consuming. 

I read something really interesting just a day later as well and that was 'We need to stop defining women's work/life balance in terms of children' the idea being that the only kind of work/life balance women should be entitled to/expecting is that which revolves around childcare. And this mentality is something I'm increasingly encountering. I have gotten a sense that my search for a job, career, ambition call it what you will, is somehow 'selfish' or 'immature' because I am a woman in my 30s who is single and without children. There is an implication somehow that if I was a 'proper grown up woman' (ie a married one with children) I would stop this mucking about with careers or ambition and just shut up and do a job. And that somehow my ambitions, dare I say it 'dreams' are just childish fantasies that I'd 'grow out of' if I were a real life grown up woman. Now of course not all women with children think that way, I know many fantastic ambitious women who have many dreams and ambitions connected to work and otherwise. But it's an undercurrent, and a deeply unpleasant one. 

So I make no apologies for my ambitions laying elsewhere now. I make no apologies for not knowing where I'm going next, and I make no apologies for wanting a bit of my life back. And I make no apologies for what that life does (or doesn't) include. Will I regret my decision not to go to that interview? I don't know. I doubt it. Despite what might have been, I know that right now it wasn't right. 

I feel broken right now. I feel like all those years have finally caught up with me and everything I was holding together kind of fell apart. And that's kind of ok, becuase perhaps to sort out what comes next it had to fall apart to put it back together. 

A final note, I was really falling apart last week and it was only the fact that I was taking part in something fantastic that kept me going. My Blog on GISHWES and how that helped and started to change me is  here

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