jobs – Chapter 4

‘Our deepest fear …..’

Today I treated myself to a back, neck and shoulders massage. Having trained in massage many moons ago, and loving a massage I ‘know my onions’ so to speak when it comes to both massage type and quality.

Over the years I’ve probably had a couple of hundred massages, and my conclusion is that there are a few truly brilliant massage therapists and many therapists are just running through the motions, rubbing their hands aimless up and down your back as they plan their shopping or rest of day. I would place myself down the end of the scale, whilst I enjoyed it and found it very grounding for me, I don’t think I was that good, and neither did I put in the practice to improve. In short I would rather receive than give a massage.

Since moving to a new area I have been trying to find good local therapists, these are the people who help to keep me and my body on the straight and narrow. And 11 months in I’ve had limited success, but there’s always hope …

The first lady I went to was a Thai therapist and exceedingly skilled, but she insisted on talking all the way through the treatment, which might occasionally be ok if you know them well, but her conversation (or should I say monologue) was a toxic rant about men, and at total odds with the promoted promise of a ‘blissful, relaxing treatment’. This was one heck of an angry therapist. I’ve never returned.

Attempt number two was a therapist working in a small fabulous converted lodge, with large windows leaning out over the Lake District Fells – big tick. The place looked, felt and smelt good. However the treatment was sadly lacking, the therapist was at the start of her career. I later found out that she had done most of her training during Covid, and my treatment felt as ‘virtual’ as her training probably was.. it was almost as if she was fearful of touching me.

My third attempt was much better, a Hotel Spa booking provided a short Scottish lady who applied all her inner might to tackle my knots, it was good, but at more than an hour away, and hotel spa prices, this was unlikely to be my regular treat.

But today walking up the hill to the treatment room I had a good feeling and I began musing over ‘touch’ as a ‘gift’. I believe we all have a special ‘gift’, some are clear what theirs’s is and enjoy it through fun, hobbies or as their career. For others its a mystery, unknown or hidden from the world as Marianne Williams put it’

our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous’ .

The gift I admire most in others it the ability to make you feel truly seen, a combination of real listening, emotional intelligence, warmth, empathy and genuine interest – I have one fabulous friend who naturally does this. The other gift, the one I would have for myself, if we got to choose, would be the ability to sing. For me singing, in tune singing, is an expression of the soul and love. I have an inkling of my gift, and I will share that in a future blog.

I continued up to the therapy room, a dedicated room in the local community centre. The building has big rooms, small rooms and shared toilet facilities filled with posters about sexual health and child line. Perhaps not a promising start. But as you enter the treatment room, your worries, the outside world and your shoes are left outside.

Inside the room is a haven for relaxation, ‘rest, relax and restore’ imagery and scents of ylang ylang and patchouli.

45 minutes later and I’m writing this from cloud 9. The treatment was bliss, no other words required.

When I thanked Maya at the end and said how good she was, she replied I love it, its my gift. My respect for and connection with her deepened.

Is life just one big game of whackamole?

Many years ago, I worked for the Police in a non-uniformed role on a short-term contract. I remember my first day walking into the office and seeing row after row of middle-aged men, in grey suits working at computers. I was horrified it looked so bleak and boring. I may have been tempted to run, but I needed a job, it was near to home, and I was there.

I was part of a small team of 4 men, all 40 plus, one of them was also on a short-term contract and we hit it off quite quickly. His name was Dave, he was in his early 50’s, very clever, quite wise and quite bruised from workplace politics over the years. He was clearly capable of and had come from a better, more responsible job, and was looking for more, but he needed work. He based his working life on game theory and was bemused by my enduring positivity, naivety and bonhomie in the workplace. And even more enthralled by my early dalliances in the post-divorce dating world.

After a few months of friendship, I was flattered to be invited for tea and to meet his wife, who was lovely, and told me that Dave liked few people but somehow, I’d cut the mustard so to speak.

Sadly, we have since lost touch, but I remember a few wise and profound things he told me, I also think he helped me understand more about the male psyche in the workplace, where pride kicks in and (massive gender stereotype warning ahead) how I think redundancy etc seems to affect men more than women.

One of these lasting memoires was his view on the fairness or not of life. In my view its simple – life is not fair, but it’s not something I dwell upon, life is what you make of it. I remember our conversation on this, and I sensed a degree of bitterness in him on this subject, as he talked of those people, he knew who in his words ‘went through life without touching the sides’ i.e., who lived a charmed or easy life. As I get older, I realise that I don’t know anyone who fits this brief, my close friends have suffered losing a son to a brain tumor, bankruptcy, affairs, husband’s suicide, the deep tragedies of mankind.

Yesterday as I was laughing (in a trying not to cry way) about my current challenges and Dave’s phrase ‘without touching the sides’ came to mind. Fortunately, none of my current challenges are the tragedies I’ve listed above, but instead I seem to be moving through a series of minor to mid-level annoyances / stressors, the polar opposite to the easy glide, I seem to be touching and bouncing off multiple sides of life, getting caught on one twig, wriggling free to then get caught up in another.

A few weeks ago, I was really struggling on the friendship front. Uber keen to ‘find a friend’ in my new location, someone I could connect with, who seemed to have similar references points and interests. I thought I’d met a couple of such people in the first few months since my move, we’d meet for a walk, arrange the next, then it fell through, then the next fell through again and again. I consider myself a fairly flexible and understanding person and know that things often change, and that it’s easy to overcommit and for things get in the way of plans. But after 3 or 4 last minute bails and on one of these occasions I saw one ‘potential friend’ who’d told me she was ill heading out later that evening. I was hurt, questioning my friend-ability and also annoyed that I’d wasted time when I could have gone out on my own. After some reflection I decided enough is enough and these early forays and hopes for friendship were officially dashed.

About a month ago I met someone who again I thought I could click with, we first met round the campfire of a women’s circle, then the next day bumped into each other at a wild swimming event – clearly, we have similar hobbies. On chatting, chatting and more chatting (all good signs) more similarities appeared. Since then, more swims, texting, sharing jokes its looking good… Then a strange thing happened, two other women stepped forward keen to do things, keen to share secrets… scarily I seem to be making friends .. I’m in danger of feeling fully settled.

But just as one part of my life feels calm and comfortable, the car begins to make strange noises, the plumbing in my house decides it wants to be more than just a set of pipes, it now wants to make music all night long. I’m not sleeping and without sleep I just want to cry….

Then came the rain – the real rain, and after a lovely day out I returned to find a flood in my garage, wood store and back porch, I feel as if I’m lurching between these minor challenges. I think there’s a lesson in here – I just haven’t found it yet. Instead, I can feel myself getting cross, getting indignant as the flooding could potentially have been avoided if my landlord had undertaken essential maintenance. I feel the anger rising I want to hit things, to whack things in true whackamole style. But I know that if I whack something down, something else may well pop back up….

Better still to aim for balance and calm, and put my whacker away…

How’s your life?

So how did I get here?

There’s a song in there somewhere.

Just over 4 months I crammed a small selection of my worldly possessions ( I am never going to be that minimalist poster girl) into my small convertible and headed north… At the time I was houseless and jobless or footloose and fancy free – depending upon what’s important to you.

I joined the M6, one of the many soulless motorways in the UK, sat nav on, CDs playing (yes you did read CD!) and headed north to the lake district. A mix of trepidation, exhaustion, excitement and sheer relief as just an hour earlier I could neither close my boot or put the roof back down, and I had thoughts of hire car flashing through my mind. But somehow it all just fitted, the roof and boot closed and off I went. Most of the journey I was in that zombie driving state where I intersperse routinely checking speed, mirrors, ahead, behind ( back off big lorry why do you have to get so near!) with moments of singing, basic thoughts such as when will I eat/ stop for the loo. It was far from being a wistful moment of reflection.

The journey went pretty well and I began to pick out familiar landmarks around the lakes – which are unbelievably stunning, and then I landed, physically anyway.

I had taken a new job in a charity, on a beautiful lakeside estate with a house to rent included. Sounds idyllic – but I knew no-one…. but I was still feeling very rough after Covid… but the day I arrived it was grey and drizzly and there was no real welcome (maybe I expect too much)….

I opened the door of my new little house, I was literally opening the chapter on my new life. At this stage I was not fearful, I had rationalized any fears with a ‘ if you hate it you just leave’ mantra, and knowing there is always a room for me at my brothers….

The house was furnished, nothing fancy and way too much grey, but furnished. The the main thing I initially noticed was – oh boy was it cold! Still March, old slate built, no real insulation. I whacked the heating up, I found my chocolate (I’m never far away from some), sat down and breathed long and hard… well this is it! No turning round now, although my mantra is ‘I can go back’, I’d also committed to giving it a year.

I now had a house of my own, I was starting a job in two days… I was rejoining those established social norms distilled into me since a child – I’m not saying they are right but they are definitely there! One thought creeped into my mind – had I actually been brave enough..?

4 months prior when I’d idly typed ‘jobs in Cumbria’ into the Guardian jobs search engine I’d wanted a change, I’d wanted excitement and this ticked many boxes but there was just a whisper in my ear….. ‘had I been brave enough?’

Rejected by Marks and Spencer

I left my last job exactly four weeks today. In some ways the job seems to be distant memory, I guess ‘checking out’ had started a few months ago, in other ways the four weeks has flown by. This has been the first month of exploration; giving myself permission not to think about work or what next whilst I indulged in a short adventure.

Overall, my working life has been easy in terms of being able to do what I want with limited rejections, but hard in terms of volume. And not thinking about work is very hard. I am someone who has devoted a ridiculous amount of time to work, at times to the detriment of my own health and over work was one contributory factor in my divorce. I have always been driven by a need to do a good job, to be helpful and flexible, to learn about something new and this has translated into regular 50 – 60-hour weeks. When you’re on your own its easy to do silly hours. Work is a constant companion, work ‘is always there for you’.

I’ve tried to trace the origins of my strong work ethic and I think it’s a combination of my mum (sorry dad I can’t credit you with this – other things but not this) and my escapism as a child in a busy house. When things were turbulent in the house – family arguments etc., I would retreat to my bedroom sit by my radiator and either study and or do yoga, this was yoga without the frills basically stretching, and I loved it. Then, as I did well at school, the endorphin shot of a good mark and learning something new would continue to motivate me and so the cycle began.

Moving into adulthood I went to Uni, I wasn’t really sure what to do but knew I wanted to go so I plumped for a general business course as a safe bet. Once there I enquired about moving to Biology (as this had been my favorite subject at school – but on paper I didn’t have the pre-requisite sciences to do it at degree level) unbelievably I was offered a chance to transfer to it. However, at the same time I won the first term award on my business course, and I was swayed by external recognition over personal satisfaction. As my career has progressed I have repeatedly prioritized the needs or feedback from others in my career choices , ‘I could not possibly do the exciting shift role when we had young kids’ – but of course my husband could take a job which was pure adventure requiring totally flexible hours, several people put me off teaching and shop work due to the long hours, and my decisions seem to have been based on what I’m good at and get good feedback in rather than what provides a deep sense of achievement or satisfaction. And even recently when I’ve toyed with doing some part time care work again others have put me off… Mind you I recognise this says as much about me and my inner lack of self-belief, as it does about them.

I know I need to give myself time (and I am fortunate I can now take a short break) to really think more about what might give me that greater satisfaction, to see what presents through happenstance and what will ensure sustainability, which in its simplest form means not working crazy hours at the same time as adding value for others and the environment.

My intention was to get a part time job to bring in some pocket money whilst I ruminate…. and applying for Marks and Spencer seemed an obvious move. So, I filled in the 100-question personality assessment – am I resilient? – big tick, do I prefer structure or freedom at work? My honest answer is freedom, but I thought this is Marks and Spencer, I’m guessing there will be more rules and so the overthinking began. I then moved onto multiple choice scenarios – do I prioritize front of house tidying or checking a new stock delivery? I soon realized this was more complicated than I’d expected. I finished off with a nice covering letter and pressed send… but lo and behold within 10 minutes the dear john arrived.

Did I flunk the scenarios or personality part or both? … I was surprised and slightly disappointed, I was looking forward to the new part time adventure, but most of all I was slightly worried. Imagine if I can’t get another job, imagine if this won’t be as easy as I’d thought. I quickly kicked the thoughts out of my head, something always turns up – it just does, and I have an unending belief in that.

But I did think imagine if applying for Marks and Spencer was your 50^th application, and it’s much harder than you think and with no feedback given I have no idea if it was my personality or the scenarios. There’s nothing for me to learn from or to bring into the next application. For someone who was really struggling with confidence that could be soul destroying. I think all big employers should be made to give feedback to all applicants who request it – try harder Marks and Spencer.