It's no secret. Where I spend much of time is in flux, being challenged and essentially, hanging in the balance. Where I work is in a weird place.
I’ve been through this before- who hasn’t? Last time, I took it badly. I can admit that now, with hindsight. It shattered me, my sense of who I was- my confidence buckled.
Work, in its many forms has been much of what I’ve been about, the last few years. I’ve founded and grown a podcast with two of my best friends where I’ve shared the worst and the best of times with them and our lovely listeners.
I’ve had the privilege of meeting and interviewing some incredibly interesting people. I fully understand things I hadn’t a notion about before I began. Most valuable to me has been the connections I have forged with people. It has been the most beautiful, challenging, journey.
My job is probably the second thing people ask me about, after my zany name. I wear my job title like gaudy jewellery to distract from who I really am. I am not my job, I never was.
That said, I’m interested in how much of myself I’ve tied up in this thing we call a ‘job’. I am fascinated by the quite how much of myself is defined by what I ‘do’.
Is this what capitalism does to us, makes us feel like you are your job and your job is you? Thus, if you’re not constantly ‘moving up the ladder’, are you, and your career stagnant? Are we so deeply connected with that which pays the bills it transcends the office walls and makes it deep into our sense of self?
The unknown is terrifying, just about as terrifying as the earwig that crawled out of my apple earlier and nearly sent me into an early grave, but I am trying look at the unknown with exhilaration, not terror. I am examining, ruminating, pulling things apart to put them back together.
I am back writing, and I am thinking of Sylvia Plath, that’s a potent combination.
Out of the ashLady Lazuras, Sylvia Plath.
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air.