Think of this as your desert island time

The set up is like this . . . last Wednesday had all the makings of an excellent, good news, shiny day. (And having recently availed myself of Firefly via Netflix I mean "Shiny!") Instead, it turned into a day where I worked very hard to stay professional and calm, and as a result found myself sitting in the back of my car, trying to meditate my way through not losing my shit.

In between the things that happened were an interview where the job offer that had been previously discussed was divided by 2, and the territory for said job had magically relocated too. (Note: even if the salary offer wasn't an issue, which it was, the fact that 4 hours of phone interviews had given me one set of details on salary and territory and the in-person interview gave me another was the bigger red flag.) I held things down and asked some pretty intelligent questions about this, I thought, without getting accusatory or defensive. So, that was good. But then, I got back into the parking garage and found that the jacknut parked next to me was literally about 3 inches from my driver's side. Couldn't even get my arm through to open the door. So, I had to see if I could crawl in from the passenger side. I tried a couple of tactics, all the while dreaming of notes with flaming hot prose left on their windshield. So, I ended up sitting in the backseat, trying to breathe out the rage and find the cool, calm, center of the universe.

I had posted lots of rainbows-and-hearts type things on Facebook about this interview, so of course when I got myself together and crawled my way into the front seat,  I posted something cursory on FB. I didn't want to be over-the-top negative; I did want people to know that things were not as promised and not hold out on details for the people who were wanting to know.

This caused my sister and a couple of my best friends to call me. I kept it together with my sister for half an hour, but finally found myself in a parking lot just saying, "Why can't I just have a year where everything is ok?" One of my friends then let me swear, pretty much non-stop for 10 minutes and then obliged me when I said we needed to talk about other things. We spent another 10 minutes talking about him and other things about me and making jokes.

The other friend asked me what happened. And I told him . . . calmly. Not without emotion, but with some perspective. We talked about my job prospects, and his work situation (job talk in the near future! Yeah!). And he asked me if there was anything else going on in my life.

The hard truth is . . . not so much. I see friends. I go running. I went on a date. (well, by now a couple) I've never been so on top of the TV shows I like. I write. A lot. I read. And in terms of job searching - I have 5 places I check on the regular, I file what I find, I write and adjust cover letters, I submit letters and resumes online. Lather, rinse, repeat.

I said to him, "I'm not chasing after a kid, but I'm growing to really appreciate how hard it is to be at home all the time. I feel very much not a part of the world, and so it's hard to have anything interesting to say when people ask me what I've been doing. It's a lot of the same." Over and over, I would add. (I have to say, I have two mommy friends in particular in mind as I write this paragraph and hope they know that I'm not saying I understand the full scope of how hard that job is, just a small glimpse)

My friend said to this, "Think of this as your desert island time . . . so rare are the down times that when they come they really annoy you!"

It is ironic, actually, that what I was fighting for in my last job was the ability to keep being successful but not have to sacrifice my personal life to do so."Be careful what you wish for" is cliche, and also doesn't adequately describe what I feel about this. I think this time is . . . harder work than my job. But maybe better for me in terms of my long term goals and needs and wants. I'm not sorry for what I wished for because it is still what I wish for - a job where I can use my strengths to my best advantage, make a difference, and be successful, but also go home and feel like I can service the rest of my life.

So, back to last Wednesday. I was annoyed that I spent 7 hours to hear what, had I heard in the first half hour, I would have said no to. Annoyed that I had to crawl into my car from the back seat. I'm annoyed that I had to invest 5 hours to get to was such a bust. I'm really annoyed that I'm becoming a boring person that pretty much only has this to talk about. And annoyed that I'm the horrible friend that had this discussion with my friend on his birthday. Ugggghhhh.

I'm also annoyed that because of the nature of this position, this could be a mind game. It could be (I don't think so, but I can't help but wonder) that they were expecting me to come back and sell them on me being worth the potential offer that was discussed initially in my phone interview. Of course, it could be, just thinking about the wording, that the phone interview person was just not being clear on how their compensation works . . . either on purpose or by accident.

If this is my desert island, well, it's filled with a lot of doubts, second-guesses, and questioning myself. But, as a very wise therapist pointed out yesterday (not related to this story, actually, which makes me believe that it's even more true) that is what my desert island is whether I'm interviewing, or employed, single or coupled, living alone or with someone. I often make decisions competently and confidently, and then second guess them. I sometimes aim lower than I should, and while it doesn't happen all the time doubting or blaming myself is something that has importantly defined some of the situations that have most shaped me. So, maybe this isn't the island I asked to be on, or maybe it is. But, I was living some of this island life before I was let go.

But now that I am on the island, coconut in hand, it's interesting to note what is different and what is the same. Once, in a very bad movie (that I nonetheless enjoyed) Harrison Ford said, "It's an island, if you didn't bring it with you it's probably not here," or something very like that. There's some truth to that. What I had with me, came to the island. In that sense my insecurities don't have a lot to do with my situation. And, the culture and realities here are importantly different. It's filled with a chance to sleep 8 hours every night, but also not always of peace of mind to implement that. It's filled with a lot of alone time . . . though I suppose that's the point of a desert island. If it was an island where I had more means, it would be a time to redo some of the rooms of my house and take some online courses, but as it is, it has been a chance to read a lot, and educate myself on a couple of new things. (Both of them pretty cool!)

Much like a desert island, I ration food, and other resources. And, my days are very repetitive and a little bit . . . boring, and lonely. It's clear that while I was making a zombie survival plan I should have also been making a plan to survive the desert island. You know - what would you bring, who would you want there, how would you make it through. You know the game.

Let's I was in the way of being stuck on the LOST island, for instance. My scary unseen monster is the day my bank account hits zero, and I have to live in my car. (Yes, that is hyperbole. Because as we all know there's a beautiful room waiting for me in Boston) Or ask people for money. (Of the two, the later is VASTLY worse.) The "others" on my island of unemployment island are . . . well, ok, I haven't figured that out yet. And, the force controlling everything that I'm trying to reconcile myself with, well that's obvious.

So, the survival plan so far has been, as my friend said that night, keeping my options open. (He actually said something porny-er but, you know, I'm reporting the part that applies.) In this case, it takes a lot of work and energy to create those options, but, this is ok because I am excited about finding them, and settling on the right fit. What I need on the desert island to keep that going are the people who help me see myself, and think out loud. I suppose this is like the zombie survival plan in that way. It's the people. In this case though, the skills I'm looking for may have a little more variation. If it were a real island, of course, my top priorities would be someone who knows about living/eating in the wild (food and shelter),  someone who can patch people up (medicine), someone who can fix the radio or get us things we need out of the scrap metal or plane crash (electronics and technology), and ideally, a barrista who happened to wash ashore with their trusty espresso machine. (Let's be clear though, if it's a choice between saving the barrista and the espresso machine itself . . . well, I'd at least have to think about it since I ran a cafe in college and could make my way back to making a decent latte if needed.) Those things don't change in my survival scenarios. You know, just the basics.

But, desert living, I've discovered, is different than zombie living.  A lot less flesh eating, a lot more people wanting to eat lunch with you. A lot less running for your life, a lot more making yourself go to the gym to run. So, on this island, I need my people. I need David who keeps me practical without letting me get grim. I need Wil's special brand of hope and pessimism, of intricate, even artistic language, and the ability to be blunt and efficient. I need Rob, because there is nowhere in my life where I don't need the person who knows me best, and has known me for 32 years. Also, who else can I find myself in 7 off-shoot conversations from the original topic? And more to the point, Rob and I are very different, but the same, so he is sometimes my conscience and heart, and yet can also make me laugh like no one else. I need my girls because they love me for exactly who I am, and it is rare that I'm with any of them for more than 30 minutes before things get pretty irreverent. Rebecca, Elisabeth, Gabrielle, Krystel, and Annette are high on this list because they keep everything real whether it's good or bad, celebration or consolation time, dance party or dealing. I need Heather, because where Rob is my heart, Heather is my head. She and I think much the same, and yet subtly differently. In the last year I noted that when I'm at her house, my working vocabulary goes up and I feel more intelligent and more clear in my thoughts. (Importantly, this doesn't mean I don't also need her affection. Just, if I'm giving out jobs, well, she excels at that one) And I need Susan who is much like Rob, in that we seem to be able to share everything without reserve. She has so much heart that some of it has to be on her sleeve, and in her over-abundance, she gives a lot of it away. She helps keep me grounded in faith and belief while also supporting me in every other way she knows how. And, I need a trainer on this island, so it's lucky that I have the best one.

I know, espresso, trainer . . . this is a very swanky desert island. That's just how I roll. I should just go for broke and wish for ice, limes, and tequila, eh?

The thing I'm trying to do is to leave the desert island, but take some of this with me. To have brought whatever I brought here is inevitable but to take out only what is useful is, I think, the task at hand. I'll take these friends without question, because they take me without reservation. I'll take the trainer, and the espresso and tequila (not together!) if it's available. But there are some other deeply important things I'd like to pack when I board to leave. this is crucial, because what I actually want is NOT a year where everything is "ok" but a year in which I have the same ups and downs as everyone else yet still feel, on the whole, that my life is better than ok, stunning and moving even.

• The belief that I live in a time, and have the skills and strength to choose and shape the future I want
• This new found faith and belief. But even more than that, the wonder I feel at being able glimpse the tiny bit of the pattern I see
• The understanding that it's not accidental that I "fall" into creative pursuits - this blog, other writing, singing, photography. That it is what most feeds and energizes me, and so it has to be part of my lifestyle. Not an afterthought
• The time and quiet to read as voraciously as I can, and have in the past. I missed you old friend, glad you're back.
• The understanding that my values of being there for others, showing love, and offering help where I'm able has to work both ways. There is a way in which always being the giver is . . . ironically, selfish. If I truly believe that being here for each other is what we're here to do, I have to be willing to participate in the whole cycle, not just the part I'm comfortable with. Independence is one thing, pride just damages that cycle.
• This new found ability to be passionate without apology
• All the honesty I brought in, has to come back out with me.
• Patience and Forgiveness. These are still underway but maybe will be formed enough to survive the trip when it comes time?
• The understanding that I can think one thing, and feel another
• The certainty that I am loved, and at the end of the day, that is enough.
• The ability to let go - total responsibility and accountability for the things I can and should do, zero judgment or blame for the things I cannot control
• As much gratitude as I can carry. I may need a bigger suitcase for this, honestly.
  
  
  

And you know, if customs isn't a problem, I'll take some coconuts too.

changing things up

I've written about this before - if people want things to change, they have to do things differently. Or to put this in addiction terminology as I understand it, "If nothing ever changes, then nothing ever changes."

Sometimes, I am fairly stunned by how fast I can see this in others, and not in myself. Then, of course, I kick myself for being a judgmental ijit. I'm sure we are all masters of seeing ourselves in other people, of casting the first stone, but people, I have aim.

I've also talked about the fact that I'm someone who requires some professional supervision from time to time - I have a trainer, saw a dietician for awhile, and see a therapist about once a month. And yet, I hate help. So, while I'm pretty broke at this point, I'm also aware that keeping my head on straight, working from my strengths, and making sure I can walk into my next job with all of that up and running is a clear priority. This means I still go see my therapist.

Now, I'm not in the habit of paying people and then ignoring them. Maybe it happened that the dietician suggested adding spaghetti squash and cottage cheese to my diet, and I only did one of those. (Because, ewwww, the texture of some things just cannot be overlooked.) Maybe it happened one week last year where I logged workouts that didn't happen because I just couldn't tell my trainer and deal with his disappointment on top of my own. And maybe it happens from time to time that I question the method behind his madness. (But it's only happened once that he's told me to do an exercise, and I've tried and then just said to him, "I don't think I can.")

Therapy is the same but different. As a grown up, I can say honestly that I choose therapy not because I feel broken or concerned or depressed, but because I know the value of being able to analyze myself. And because from my cognitive psych research background (important note: this is NOT the same as having a professional background in clinical psych) I am deeply aware that it's hard to research oneself. All jokes about research = me-search aside figuring yourself out and making friends with yourself seems like maybe the best thing any person can do. And doing it alone means the research will be flawed. I explained it this way to someone yesterday,"Nobody asks you to talk about the mechanics of your own gallbladder by intuiting it. Why do we assume we can self-report on our own minds and brains?"

So, I don't assume I can do that with complete fidelity and perspective. And because my therapist is very upfront about his own biases, and because he works uber-hard to make sure we are understanding each other and asking the right questions, I feel comfortable presuming he is a good choice for an extra set of eyes and ears on the scene.

To me, it seems like it would be wasteful and stupid and ignorant and rude to pay him and then neglect what he has to say. Instead, I often choose to tell him when I'm questioning his suggestion. I just lay it out there.

This is all to say, I was fairly surprised today to find myself listening intently to what he was advocating, agreeing with so much of it, and then leaning so hard away from it. Hmmmm.

But here's the thing. I'm structured, and I do the things I do to stay comfortable. But that doesn't mean I am always doing what is best for me. That, if anything, was the very best definition of the meaning of the title of this blog when I started it . . that there could be a disconnect between doing the "right things, or the things I thought I was "supposed" to do and my feeling of satisfaction from them. Comfort can denote contentedness, but it can also denote stagnation. If I'm all about growing and changing, and honesty, and self-assessment and analysis then I should have the integrity to say that I sometimes . . . settle. Much less in the last three months than ever before, but three months weighed against 30 some years may not stack up just yet. I'm sure this is true for a lot of people, but my tendency to make decisions quickly, but then immediately try to pull the dust down all at once into something resembling order means that I'm not always looking at all of the information carefully with a focused view on what's GOOD for me. I'm busy running around trying to keep my corner of the world neat and tidy - it often feels like a full time job.

And here is the other thing - what I really believe is that we are very sophisticated, wet computers. We may not understand exactly how that computer gets programmed, and when I was in grad school I was very busy trying to understand a specific competence of the computer, and what parts of it were "hardware" and what parts were "software." But, I do believe that changing the output can often be traced back to changing the input.

If I want a different life from how things were in the fall, and I do - I need to be willing to put different things into it. If I want a job that respects me as a human being, that allows me to feel productive, satisfied, challenged, and supported to succeed, I need to be clear about that. If I want to have more success in balancing work and life, I need to feed myself with different expectations about that, and what it's ok to ask for. If I want things to be different, I need to be ok with things being different. Importantly, this means doing things differently than I have, feeding myself differently literally and metaphorically, and releasing myself from old patterns just because they are habit.

I won't lie. What's on the table here from today's session is pretty radical. On the other hand, the changes I'm hoping to make are pretty far reaching too. Viewed in that way, it actually starts to look promising and hopeful that I have had a "sabbatical" from working for two months. I can't say it's been a vacation, since it's been very, very hard to try and be this productive, this hopeful, and this focused without, well, a focal point. But it does mean that how and when this happened created an opportunity for me step away from external expectations and to know myself based on my own standards, my own principles, my own expectations. I want to live in that world where I create the right things for myself.

So that means not discarding taking big leaps of faith, considering different jobs than I did 5 years ago, eating differently, exercising differently, using my time differently, listening differently, drawing boundaries differently, and making decisions differently. Where normally I might go with my first emotional reaction to some of the things that have been proposed to me this week, I also have to remember that I would never let an introspective self-analysis of my gallbladder make a decision for me. And so, it might be worth considering the person I pay to help me see myself better might have a point.

Well, very thoughtful indeed today, readers and a pledge to try for some more concrete posts in days to come.