Still Unexpected

I am constantly trying to predict the future.

I am a terrible fortune teller.

Sometimes, my predictions are based in facts, and they still fall short.  This can be a good thing or a bad thing, but it remains unpredictable.  I applied for one job online, unsolicited, that I thought was well out of my league, and they chose to interview me - I was shocked, because I didn't have any connections to the organization, no network to open the door for me, and it was a more senior position, so the facts told me that my odds of getting an interview were slim.  But not only did I get an interview...I got three interviews, before I was gently turned down.

I've had two intensive rounds of interviews for different jobs: one round lasted three interviews, and the other lasted four interviews.  In both cases, I was awarded "runner up" status, and told that I was a fabulous candidate.  In that more-senior-than-I-am position, they awarded the job to someone with ten years more experience than I have in the field; in the other case, they told me that I was a great candidate, that it was an incredibly difficult decision, that they had no negative feedback.

I could not have predicted either outcome.  I'm pleased that I'm making it this far on my own merits, disappointed to not receive job offers, excited to get positive feedback.  I couldn't have predicted any of that.

I also couldn't have predicted what both of those employers DID offer me: connections.  In both cases, they volunteered to connect me with their connections at other organizations for similar jobs.  What?!  Is this normal?  I didn't see it coming in either instance, and the first time I felt like it was absolutely extraordinary that he'd be willing to assist me further even though I wasn't a fit for his job, and the second time I was even more shocked to get a repeat of that offer.

(Both offers came from men, but before you get suspicious: one is a happily partnered gay man, and the other is a happily married man....and one of the people the married man is connecting me with is his wife!  No ulterior motives.)

Today I'm feeling pretty good about my prospects.  I had another interview yesterday, I have two coffee dates lined up to discuss additional prospects, and a couple of new jobs have come up that I intend to apply for.  I'm finding my stride, feeling more confident, getting good responses even though I don't yet have a position.

But I've had weeks go by where I feel like such a failure, such a sham, that it's hard to breathe.

Money is a big issue.  My savings is so small that to call it paltry is a stretch, and I'm guarding it anxiously, terrified that even a small problem could blow up into a big one - I don't have an extra $500 for a car repair or an issue with the house or a medical bill.  I'd be crazy if I WASN'T worried.  It's Christmastime, and I have to figure out how to have an extraordinary holiday with my daughter, while spending next to nothing.

I'm 44 years old, a cancer survivor covered in scars, a divorced single mother, and I'm unemployed.  Yikes.

My friends are all really successful people.  They have interesting, lucrative jobs, or they have jobs that change the world (interesting but less lucrative).  Almost all of them are partnered.  They drive nicer cars than I do, wear nicer clothes, go on fabulous vacations, have nicer houses.  If I compare myself to them, I feel panicky.  What am I doing wrong?! 

So I try to predict the future, to shape it, to control it. If I submit X number of resumes by Y date, I will get a job by Z.  I run the numbers constantly, playing with my budget, squeezing it, trying to make the numbers come out okay.  I'm on unemployment, and I can't tell you how happy I will be to cancel that, to earn my money again, and I try to predict when that will be.

The holidays are fully upon us, so it won't happen now.  Maybe January 1st?  No, probably January 15th at earliest.  Here's what I must do to hit that date...

But the truth is, I'm not in control.  The truth is, I can not predict the future, and that none of my predictions have come true.  The truth is, I'm a terrible fortune teller.

I thought I'd receive a call from the four-rounds-of-interviews job more than a week ago, and that it would be a yes (hurrah!) or a no (oh crap!) and instead it was a "we love you but we won't hire you but how'd you like to talk to X, Y, and Z instead?" - and I certainly didn't predict that.  I found a job that I was really into and I had an in, and so I applied and waited....and didn't hear back.  I found jobs posted online, where I had no connections to the organization, and I was asked for interviews.  Backing up from that, I didn't see my own employment on the horizon until it hit me: I doubled my boss's business in a year, made her successful beyond her dreams, and she laid me off.  I didn't see that coming, not even a bit.  I'm still reeling from it.  Before that? I really believed that if I was a Good Wife who Followed the Rules, I would have a successful marriage.  We know how that ended.  And before that?  I thought I would die from the cancer that attacked me.  And I'm here.

My smart, talented, successful friends keep telling me that I'm on the right track, that they're not even worried about me because they know that I'm going to get this, that I'm going to make this happen, that my story has a happy ending.  They tell me that they're proud of me, that they believe in me, that they'll keep connecting me with people who might help.  They all believe that they can see my future, and predict it.

Their visions for my future are beautiful.  They believe that I'll find employment, that I will be successful, that I will land on my financial feet, that my career will be wonderful.  They also believe that I will find true love, that I will find romantic happiness.  They say these things easily, and I see their truth: they believe what they tell me, they don't have the hesitation that I feel.

I'm still learning how to let go without becoming complacent.  I certainly recognize that there are no fairy godmothers waiting to wave a wand over me, turn my old Subaru into a Mercedes, drop a dream job into my lap, and land me in the arms of my dream man.  I know that to accomplish what I want to do, I have to keep at it: to put in more applications, arrange yet another coffee meeting, reach out to employers, friends of friends, keep building my skills through volunteering and the small consulting job I'm doing.  I know that to be the partner *I* would like to be, I need to keep crafting my life, being true to myself, taking care of my life, so that when the right man comes to me, he will see all of that and be as attracted to me as I am to him (because the right man for me will not be interested in inviting drama, financial insecurity, etc. into his life - he will like me in part because of how together I am).  So, I have to keep doing all of the right things...

...while I realize that I'm not in control, that it will come down to the universe helping me out.  I am clear in my intentions: I do not want A job, I want THE RIGHT job.  I do not want A man, I want THE RIGHT man.  So I will do what I need to do, and I will try to stop predicting the future, and wait for the Universe to send me to the right place, when the Universe is ready.

I am a terrible fortune teller.  I can't predict with certainty what will happen tomorrow, let alone next week or next decade, what twists and turns my life will take.  I'm trying to listen to my gut, care for my heart, keep my head.  I'm trying to do, while also just being.  I do both imperfectly.

But recently, I feel my faith returning.  I am going to be okay. I don't yet know how, but I believe that it's all coming together, and that I'm getting closer.  What's more, I *am* okay.  Happy and healthy, a roof over my head, food in my fridge, a beautiful daughter, lots of support.

The Universe is looking out for me, I think.  Maybe that's what optimism is: maybe it is the belief that there is something bigger than me, looking out for me.  I am an optimist, and I've long thought that it came from within myself, but now I see that it must have been planted in me.

So, I am trying to give up my fortune telling, recognizing that I haven't got a clue how to predict the future.  I'll keep dreaming, wondering, hoping...but I'm going to try to accept what is, remain in the moment, instead of getting too far ahead of myself.

Wish me luck with that, please.  And thanks for your continued thoughts and prayers about my employment.  I'm ready to change the world, and take back control of my own finances at the same time.  I'm ready to be a fabulous employee, and to move to the next stage of my life.

xoxo

*****

Do you try to predict your future?  Are you successful with that?  How do you remain grounded in the present, while keeping your heart full of dreams?  How do you balance the need to take control of your life through your own actions, with the understanding that there is so much out of your control?

I don't know 'bout you, but I'm feelin' 22...

I am officially twice the age of Taylor Swift's lyric.  Happy 44th birthday to me!

But I've gotta tell you, I did not think that 44 would feel like this.  Not at all.

And it's FANTASTIC.

In many ways, I do feel 22.  I'm at the cusp of so many things, and that feeling of possibility that I felt at 22 is back again, only this time it's tempered by a lot of experience and a little bit of wisdom.

At 22 I did not think I was worthy of love, but I hoped I would find it anyway.
At 44 I know that I am worthy of supernova love, and I know I'll find it.

At 22, I felt so much pressure to get it right, and I felt like the world was watching me and judging me.
At 44, though my pressures have increased (a mortgage not least of it), I know that the world is too self-obsessed to worry about whether I am getting it right, and that those who might judge me aren't worth my time.

At 22, I was lovely and fit, and I could have spent hours telling you about what was wrong with my body.
At 44, covered in scars and with an imperfect body, I am so grateful for my body and all it does for me that I could weep in gratitude.  I am alive and it matters.

At 22, I often went with the crowd because I wanted them to like me.
At 44, I choose what I wish to do, see if anyone feels like joining me, and then do it solo or with a group, and have an equally good time.  I've noticed that those people who weren't that into me simply weren't my people: my people love me and love joining me, and we don't care who thinks we're weird or not cool or not doing interesting things.  Ironically, this has made me a lot more interesting, and once I started doing my own thing instead of doing what other people wanted me to do, more people wanted to join me.

At 22, I had no idea what I wanted to be when I grew up.
At 44, I know that I want to be in the non-profit field, starting in development and moving towards Executive Director, and on the side I want to write.  This is a beautiful sentence, filled with clarity and peace.

At 22, I hoped that one day if I was lucky, I'd get to be a mom.  I secretly hoped I'd have a daughter.
At 44, I have the best daughter in the world.  Which is to say - the best for me.  She is a lot like me, but so much better, and she has made my life so much better than I dreamed possible.

At 22, I didn't yet have my tribe.  I had a couple true blue friends who remain with me to this day, but those friendships were still relatively new.
At 44, I have tried and true friendships, and my tribe has lifted me through the darkest of days.

At 22, I ran.
At 44, I run.

At 22, I hiked and backpacked.
At 44, I hike and backpack.

At 22, I went on my first overseas trip.
At 44, I hope to go overseas with my daughter.

At 22, I loved museums and plays.
At 44, I love museums, and now I can afford the annual passes if I budget around them.  (So I do.)

At 22, I was a reader and a writer.
At 44, I am a reader and a writer.

At 22, I had no idea how strong and resilient I was.
At 44, I know that I am one of the strongest and most resilient.

44 will be my best year yet.  All of my running, hiking and such has made me closer in fitness to my 22 year old self, and I'm getting close to beating my best running times ever, and to surpassing my farthest distances....and that makes me feel 22 all over again.  I'm not feeling old, I'm feeling like I'm just starting out.  I feel like life, love, career - so much still lies ahead.  I feel confused like everyone else, only now I know that I'm not the only one feeling that way, and it doesn't hurt like it used to.

I was too tired after backpacking to do a big run this morning, so I did yoga.  My stretches are deeper, my mind happier.

I don't know 'bout you - but I'm feelin' 22.  Only better!  Tonight I'm throwing myself a cake party (cake, wine, and friends) and perhaps 20 people will come, and I can't wait.  No partner to throw me a party?  No problem - I'll throw my own....and enjoy the friends that come.  :-)  Happy birthday to me.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AgFeZr5ptV8

http://youtu.be/AgFeZr5ptV8

Falling

Yesterday I wallowed.

It's too much.  It's too hard.  I can never do it.  I'm a fool.  I'm a fake.  I'll never succeed.

You know the drill, right?  Because everybody gets that voice in their head sometimes.

This morning I woke up feeling equally sorry for myself.  I grumbled when the alarm went off at 4:30am, and laid there, awake but not getting up for an entire hour.  I could have slept in, or I could have been having a leisurely (as in "I have time to do this without running late") work out, but instead I lay there wallowing.

At 5:30 I begrudgingly got out of bed to go for a run in the dark.

SMACK.

A third of a mile in, life smacked me upside the head.  That is, there was a lift in the sidewalk from a tree root, and I didn't see it in the dark, so as my foot smashed into it I crashed into the sidewalk.  I bloodied both hands and a knee, somehow also managing to smash one shoulder and elbow (logistically, I'm not sure how this is possible).

Actually, I'm glad that it wasn't my head that was literally, only metaphorically, smacked.

I walked home, slightly dazed.  I washed off some of the blood, examined the hole in my favorite running pants, took ibuprofen, and started icing the shoulder and the worst hand.  I sulked.  I felt sorry for myself.  I moaned a little and wallowed a lot.

But I'm a mom, so then I woke up my girl and went through the motions of getting her ready for school.  I showed off my wounds, satisfied with her wincing sympathy.

And then I snapped to.

This is not who I wanted to be.  Wallowing?  From some SCRAPES that I will have forgotten in a few weeks?  For God's sakes, I've had poison injected into my veins!  I've had third degree radiation burns!  I've got a body covered in surgical scars!  And I'm going to WALLOW because I tripped and fell?

No.

I dropped off my beloved daughter at the bus, and told her "Thank you for your sympathy this morning, it helped.  I will go for another run, in the light this time, and get back in the saddle!"

I ran.  Tentatively at first - I really do feel battered - and then better.  My first mile was a little slow.  My second mile was slightly faster, and I started to feel better.  On my third mile, I thought "Hey, this isn't as bad as I thought" even as the sweat really kicked in and started stinging on the wounds, which haven't scabbed over yet.  I started to feel like a badass.  I kept going.  On my fourth mile, I ran a great (for me) pace, my fastest yet.

Apparently, I needed that fall.  Bummer.  I'd really like to learn life's lessons without the painful bit, but this is not to be.

It's time to stop wallowing at every level.

Yes, I'm unemployed at the moment, and that is terrifying.  But I'm also a woman with a mission, a woman on fire with her desire to change the world, to run her life, and to make the most out of all of it.  I've got a great education, great work experience, great references, and a great network.  I've been working that network like mad, and everyone is incredibly encouraging.  I was contacted by a great organization who heard about me - even though I haven't showed a soul my new resume, because I'm not happy with it yet! - and I've got lots of leads, and I've barely gotten started.

Sometimes we stumble, and sometimes we fall.  Sometimes, in the dark, the sidewalk rises, and blood flows, and bruises form.  It sucks.

But that doesn't take away from the fact that I'm strong and fit and capable.  I may not have jumped out of bed at 4:30 in the morning as I "should" have, but I was out there running at 5:30am, and let's just say there weren't a lot of people out at that hour with me.  I may have had to limp home, but I am also perfectly capable of getting my daughter out the door and trying again.  And when I tried again, I met beautiful success: a strong run, improved pacing, a clearer head.

Apparently, I needed the attack of the sidewalk.  Apparently, I needed to take yet another test to prove what I am and am not capable of.  Apparently, I needed a few reminders about how things are done, how to live, how to move forward.

Today I'm done with wallowing.  I still hurt, and I've got some battle wounds that are wince-worthy.

But I'm a badass, because I'm still going, and I am not going to quit until I get what I want.

Thank you, broken sidewalk.  I believe I just passed your test.  I'm on fire to prove that I've got what it takes again, thanks to you, so I'll take my wounds.

(Now, if anyone knows of a way to learn these lessons without pain, or blood, I'd appreciate your tips.  Otherwise...I'll just keep stumbling along, occasionally falling.)