I’m wrestling with a decision today that might seem trivial to some but to me is very important and I really need to vent about it.
I was offered a part time job last week, and I’m leaning toward taking it.
The pro-list is overwhelming. Close to home, a pleasant atmosphere in a small ad agency, doing work I know how to do, my own office, they’re willing to accommodate my ergonomic needs. And I can choose my own hours as long as I can give them two full days and two half days each week.
The con-list is, well, not overwhelming but slippery. I don’t know if I can do this. I know I’m supposed to listen to my instincts, that little voice that’s supposed to know what’s right for me. But it’s failed me so many times. The wrong turn at the fork in the road, finding myself deep into situations that seem hopeless.
Can you have a little voice that says your little voice is wrong? That you and your little voice have trust issues, that because you feel you can’t trust your instincts, you’ve simply stopped listening to them?
Am I making any sense at all? No, I didn’t think so.
Basically I want to work. I want to feel useful and productive. More importantly, I want to know if I can work. My return to my old job following my disability leave was such a dismal failure that it’s left me with a skewed perception of my capabilities. It’s left me gun-shy, whatever other clichés mean that I just don’t know if I have it in me to try again.
I felt totally calm about the interview. Not nervous at all. I got up, got dressed, all went fine. Apparently my reputation preceded me, because the woman who interviewed me didn’t even ask to see my samples. Just the fact that I was available seemed enough (we’d worked together before, except as the client I’d hired her.)
And then I started thinking about it. Actually working. Actually working a full day, which I haven’t done in over a year now.
Physically, my whole team of doctors would gladly sign off on me to work. I’m sure my PT would coach me through getting through a full day. Mentally is another story. And, as I’ve found out in so many disconcerting ways over the past year, everything is connected. As I write this, my stomach is in knots, and what was some minor muscle soreness yesterday is rapidly becoming a locked spine.
On some level I might not even know if I’m ready until I try it. But it’s having the faith to try that I’m trying to muster. Maybe I’m like that first little mouse we set free, who got so accustomed to the cage that he just sat there for a minute, until he realized the door was open.
What I’m parsing through is if I’m truly ready, or just truly afraid of failing?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
7 comments:
Opus -
Sticking my nose in (feel free to rap it with a rolled newspaper, if necessary), but wanted to say that if you truly have the WANT to give it a shot, and the doctors are greenlighting it, you should. Without pulling out all the cliche's, it's worth the try. If you find you aren't able, physically or mentally (and neither is a failure), you give your notice and you quit. (Which, if you do, doesn't mean you can't try again later, when you feel stronger.) I'm sure, if you've discussed your limitations with your potential future employer, they will understand, if you must go this route. And I would imagine that you'd have regrets if you didn't even try. But, again, let me say that if you do try, whichever way it goes, doesn't mean you are locked into something and the future can't bring changes or improvements in any area. This is merely a snapshot in time.
Given your history, I can understand the nerves, but somewhere under all that nervous tension, I know that you realize you are a capable, intelligent woman. They do, too. They wouldn't have offered you the job, if they didn't see it.
One admonition...leave the cape at home. You don't have to be superwoman right now. All that's likely to buy you is a quick burn out. And you don't need that discouragement. Be Lois Lane for a while instead...;)
Okay, you can use the newspaper now.
T-thank you for the advice. No newspaper needed. I'm going to cry now.
Laurpus,
I'm not sure why you're doubting your instincts at this point -- nearly a quarter of a century since last time we saw each other in person; I used to know you well and be able to read you well, but I think that bond had atrophied somewhat. Still, the woman you are still seems to be largely the woman I once admired and respected beyond all let or hindrance, and I can't believe there's a part time job in the world you can't handle if you want to do it.
I can't begin to imagine what's causing your crisis in confidence. You seem to me to have won out over a lot of trials and tribulations and it doesn't seem to me there's much of anything that should daunt you. And, as my very significant other has said, it's not like you're locked in if it isn't working. If you need to walk away, well, you walk away, and try again some other time.
You know I think the world of you, and Tammy does too, and clearly, these people who want to hire you have a high opinion of you as well. I've never been one to measure my own worth by what others think of me, but that's a defense mechanism meant to ward off spite and malice, not the positive feelings of those who value me and what I can contribute. I say get in there, I say you can do it, and I say given what you've made of your life and how far I know you've come since Boland Hall, there's no reason in the world for you to feel insecure about anything. And if my saying it's not enough, Tammy is perhaps the wisest person I've ever met.
So rock on with your bad self.
H: Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. It's definitely been a long trip from Boland Hall. (and boy are my wings tired)
Seriously. Your words, and Tammy's, mean a lot to me.
Tis better to have tried and lost than to never have tried at all.
OK, it's not totally original.
But as others have said, if it gets too difficult, you can shrug your shoulders and move on. Your hesitation is probably over unanswered questions -- can I do this? What happens if . . . ? The only you'll ever know the answers is to get into the fray.
Which all reminds me of my 88-year-old aunt who had double-knee replacement surgery last year. She still walks with difficulty, but she wanted to take the bus to visit my mother. So she had someone drive her to the bus terminal, and asked one of the off-duty drivers if she could practice getting on the bus. (Steps are hard for her.) The driver agreed, and lowered the bottom step -- something my aunt never knew buses could do -- and showed her how to grab the handrails. An hour later, she was having tea with my mother.
And thus ends today's sermon.
I just wanted to add that sometimes, when you are wearing constant pain, it causes self-doubts and can eat at your psyche like nothing else. It's a vicious, vicious thing.
My father had a debilitating injury some 20 years ago and I've seen what that can do. Ironically, though, many things in him have changed for the better. I'm sure he'd rather not have traded his old life for the new one, but his outlook on life is considerably better (at least in my opinion). Perhaps the finding the something good out of all of this. In finally finding a way to focus less on the pain, he began to find more good in the world around him. It took a long time. He's stubborn as hell (it may be a genetic thing, I'm not sure). And that may not be what happens for everyone. Which is not to say that he still doesn't have bad days. Just that he's no longer in the quagmire that held him for so long. And he's finally finding ways to contribute, which make him feel better about himself.
I wish you much luck on your own journey. Baby steps, I believe you said. And I'm sure you know there is wisdom there.
Pote, thanks for the inspirational tale. One foot in front of the other...
Tammy- thanks. The quagmire is like quicksand (my, the analogies fly). Chronic pain absolutely eats away at your confidence, your hope, your optimism. Several on my health "team" have told me that a job would be a great distraction and eventually I'll get better. I know they've worked with a lot of patients but when you're the one in that body, pushing the same rock up the hill every day, it's hard to have faith.
Post a Comment