The past two weeks, and actually since my new position began in June, I’m baffled the changes I’ve gone through.
Now when I speak, you can hear my excitement, see me taking charge. Envisioning the big picture and the details at the same time comes faster. There’s less asking for permission, and certainly no more apologizing… for my ideas, my opinion, for anything. I’ve found my place in the work force.
The work is challenging, my skills are being utilized, it’s satisfying, but I need to remember what I learned last year working through a Brene Brown e-course. It’s about my worth, not my work. And I’m worth is presence, time, focus and respect – and so is everyone else’s.
When you’re addicted to the high of feeling important, needed, and successful – the ol’ pat on the back – you’re sucked into a wicked game. Feelings of worthlessness, worry and comparing crop up. You think that pointing out others’ sins makes you less of a sinner. You judge. You’re deluded into thinking that if I just do.it.all.perfectly my life will be pristine.
But no life is spotless. We’re all struggling, laughing, aching, hungry, rested and giggly.
My boss’ boss is in town. A tricky situation, but so far so good. He’s new, I’m new. We’re discussing ideas and he’s seeing first hand the community I over see. I ran an event last night, attending a dinner tonight. It’s satisfying to have someone observe your work and approve.
But this new job is taking a toll on my inner-life, which, in turn eats away at my ability to be there for people.
I find myself exerting control over my work tasks and letting home wither away. I spend randoms hours at the office, escaping. I can’t focus on simple conversations. I tweet a lot.
But I’m noticing, recognizing the grasping at straws, taking responsibility.
“I know I said I’d be home earlier, but I’m still adjusting to this new job and I can’t seem to find a set routine. I’m happy. I’m enjoying it. But it’s a transition. Please bear with me.”
And not just abandoning my responsibilities to my partner or my home, but to myself. Time to blog, write, read, or exercise disappears. I get that itchy feeling that I should be doing something else, something more important, rather than just being.
So, blogging right now, probably making me late for my dinner. Got a massage this week. I make tea and just sit in quiet. I apologize to my fiance and ask for a hug. I scratch my dog behind the ears and I plan a coffee date with a friend. And I know this crazy, fun job is just making me want an artsy, creative life even more.