Certain days are worse than others.
Some days aren’t so bad. As long as I can feel like I’ve accomplished something, I can live with myself. That can be anything from a productive day of applying to jobs I’ve spied online, or brainstorming over a coffee with a former colleague or even a busy day looking after my kids. The days when I feel like I’m contributing in some way provide the balance I need.
Freelance work is huge, of course, although it comes with its own conflicts. It makes me miss full-time work, or it makes me think I should be spending that time getting back to the search for full-time work. The grass is always greener.
Obviously, days spent doing interviews or setting up future interviews are the ones that really get my blood pumping. Even after a few let-downs and misfires, I still get amped-up at every prospect. At this stage of the proceedings, I probably shouldn’t. I need to protect myself and temper my expectations. But that’s awfully hard.
But even when those conversations don’t end up leading anywhere, they at least provide the semblance of momentum. They help me further hone my approach. In that respect, every interview — whether a job offer results from it or not — is worth my time.
Even if rejection is the end result — for whatever reason — at least I’d had the conversation. I’d made it that far, and conceivably, I will make it that far again.
It’s the days when nothing happens that are the killer.
There are days when I spend hours combing through the job sites and see nothing that seems right for me. Sometimes I’ll end up applying to jobs I’d never in a million years want, just to stay active and involved.
Those days are the worst. They even take an almost physical toll. The resulting amalgam of stress, guilt and shame manifests itself in myriad unpleasant ways. I walk around in a gloom-laden cloud of embarrassment and worry. I ultimately become my own harshest, unforgiving critic.
I know I can — and will — find a way out of this.
But it’s taking a long time.
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