Someone wrote this on a list email, and that’s all it took to send my confidence plumetting this morning. I have finished a contract and need to find another. I think I’m unlikely to find anything in the two summer months, so I haven’t really been looking so far. I’m a middle aged woman without secure employment.
Reading this was enough to send me into a tailspin. I have visions of myself eaking out an existence on welfare, feeding too many cats, in ancient skirts.
My family is an academic family, and I am looked down on as a sell-out, as I do not have an advanced degree or prestigious employment. Kind of ironic, to be a sell-out who struggles financially. I’ve got this internal severe critic, echoes of my father, for whom nothing I do is enough. Even when I aced all my school classes, I got no praise from him.
No ordinary job is considered worthwhile by this parent. No matter that I struggle in ordinary jobs because of flashbacks and anxiety. According to him, I should be a corporate lawyer, or prize-winning writer like Margaret Atwood, if I can’t be the only thing in this world worth being, a university professor.
I think earning a living and making my way in this world is worthwhile. Every job has it’s struggles and triumphs. Would we wish to live in a world where no one will serve the coffee or pick up the garbage, where everyone is a nobel prize winner?
For me, it will not be easy to find more work. The economy is depressed. Interviews scare me. I hate calling people on the phone.
Somehow, I will do it. I have in the past. But it would all be so much easier without that critical voice in my mind, telling me that nothing I have ever done is worth anything, that I am useless, that being just a tech writer is a useless occupation for losers.
When I make some moves to finding work, that critical voice zooms into action, so I avoid looking. Parents, why do you handicap your children like this. Treating a child like this is a self-fulfilling prophecy.
So I am in a crisis of confidence. Just from reading some anonymous email. Stupid. But it is my reality. Now I have this huge job of climbing out of the anxiety hole before I can even begin to look.
This is one of those depressing posts – enough to send you off to some popular sites where you get uplifting advice.
Fractal art from: Digital Expressionism