How to contact the fraud police

The subject of Imposter Syndrome has come up in my blog before. Although it has been in remission for a few months, for the last 2 months Imposter Syndrome and the Fraud Police have been trying very hard to take over my professional life.

As I’ve mentioned, my position at work is being eliminated. That means looking for work internally.

My first interview (with the team that’s replacing mine) went really badly. REALLY badly.  I knew before it was over that I would not get an offer, and was not a bit surprised when I did not. The second interview went very well, and it was with a team that has asked me to join them previously. Although the Imposter Syndrome told me I wouldn’t get that job either, I thought Imposter Syndrome might be wrong. Unfortunately, I was not chosen for that job either.

Apparently if you don’t get a job you’ve been waiting to apply for since January the fraud police  arrive at your home in full riot gear. That’s fine. Bring it.  If you then also don’t get the second job you’ve applied for, the one that you’ve actually been actively recruited for TWICE, well. The fraud police will break out the  emotional equivalent of tear gas and night sticks. They’ll  have mental tasers.  The fraud police is always well armed, but usually I’ve got a pretty good punch myself. I’m not afraid to bite in a street fight. Right now, though, I am just not up for it. I am not. I’m down, and I can hear them counting to 10. And I don’t even want to get back up, but I know I’m going to have to. I’ll just wait for them to get to 9 before I climb back up the ropes.

I’m pretty good at bouncing back. It is all I have been doing since last Fall.  Bouncing back from an abusive coworker. Bouncing back from a relationship ending. Bouncing back from a nearly year long ordeal of professional limbo. My bounciness is just not there any more, and what’s worse neither is the desire to fight back.

To attack a job search, you need confidence. You need to feel like you own the fucking planet and are the best person anyone could ever hire.  I feel like poison. Like I’ve been fooling the whole world into thinking I’m smart and talented only for everyone to discover that I’m a total fake. It’s not the right mental or emotional stance for a job hunt. Nor do I have the wardrobe for it, having lost 63 pounds. None of my clothes fit any more.  Irony: when you have the body for new clothes, but no money to buy them because you are about to be unemployed.

So what am I going to do?

Apparently, whine about it in my blog. Shut up. It’s my blog and I can whine if I want to.

Before I whined in my blog, though,  I emailed someone at work about an introduction/interview with another team. The hiring manager for the job I *didn’t* get apparently told this other manager that he’d be crazy not to hire me. I’m still trying to wrap my head around that. If the other manager would be crazy not to hire me, doesn’t that mean that the manager who could have hired me and didn’t is even crazier??

Maybe I’ll understand it tomorrow.

As Scarlett says, it’s another day.

Maybe I’ll feel bouncier about things then.

In the meantime, 2018 can go and suck a big bag of limp dicks. Except the part of 2018 that gave me Thirteen.

Actually, 2018 only sucks donkey dicks at work. The rest of my life is fantastic. Best boyfriend ever. Best family and friends ever. I look fabulous. My personal vanity levels are way up…

 

Huh. I seem to be cheering myself up…damn, I’m good.

 

 

 

 

 

Unimportant updates

It sometimes occurs to me that my life is a bit small. I don’t do dramatic things like skydiving or mountain climbing. I don’t have glorious adventures. My significant other is a teacher, not a gazillionaire business tycoon. I do things like walking around in the park. Looking at flowers. Petting puppies. Pounding metal into jewelry. Watching British TV with my sweetheart. Going to football games and tailgating with family and friends.

Once in a while I think “shouldn’t I be doing something more…more-ish?”

Then I consider, and I say “you’re being an idiot. This IS more.”

Sometimes I think of my weight loss the same way. I had surgery! There should be dramatic announcements about losing massive amounts of weight! Big numbers!

But…the thing I have to keep in mind is that I started out just barely big enough to qualify for having surgery. I’m never going to lose 150lbs. I’d be nothing but a pile of loose skin and bones. I might lose 80-90 pounds over a year or two. Maybe 100 if I have trouble eating more when I get to a good weight.

So I have to figure out what constitutes a big announcement for someone like me.

Here it is–are you ready?

Ahem.

I’m not severely obese anymore.

Not even obese.

I’m just..overweight.

Right? It sounds underwhelming, doesn’t it? Like going for a walk in the park. Or riding my bike around the block. Big fucking deal.

But if you go for enough bike rides, and walks around the neighborhood it starts to add up. It adds up to 60lbs at this point. Small, insignificant things start to add up to something substantial.

Maybe “not obese anymore” doesn’t seem like much to you, but if you’ve ever been on the wrong side of that line you know it is!

Addendum: just got some labs back. My cholesterol is lower than it has been in years, and my Hgb A1C levels are normal. When I saw my PCP in November of 2017, when all of this started, it was in a range diagnostic for diabetes. If you ever wonder if losing weight can make a measurable impact, it can.

Productive? Who, me?

Me:  maybe I should do something productive now.

Also me: define productive first.

So what do I do when I feel guilty about not doing anything productive with my day? Well. It’s a process.

First, I have a popsicle. It’s hot outside, and I just picked up groceries and then took an hour long walk in the park. I need a popsicle.

Then, I remember it’s time for lunch, so I have a little something to eat because I can’t be productive if I am hungry. For one thing, I have a pesky habit of fainting if I am hungry or dehydrated.

Then, I remember that link sausages no longer agree with me.

Then, I brush my teeth and get some water. I’m still hungry. I get a protein shake, since my stomach is being uncooperative today.

Then I sit down at my workbench and admire a bracelet I worked on yesterday and post it on Instagram. It’s very pretty, by the way. Copper. Celtic knots etched on it.

Then I look at the floor, which really wants cleaning, and I start up the Roomba, but it isn’t charged. Again. I’ve kicked the power plug loose. Again. Well, I swept yesterday. It’s fine, except that apparently I am no longer smart enough to plug in an appliance.

I wonder if I should be concerned about it.

Very briefly.

Maybe I should watch a movie? No, that’s definitely not productive.

Maybe I should go back outside and try to ride my bike which just got tuned up? I look at the thermostat. No, I should wait for 13 to get home so he can call an ambulance if I either faint from the heat or crash. Again.

Have I mentioned that since crashing on my bike 3 years ago, I am terrified of riding it and might need psychoanalysis about it?

Then I decide to post about it. The productivity thing, not the fear of biking thing. Though, really, which is more important? Being a little unproductive or having an irrational fear? Is my sanity really in question?

I tell myself that being afraid of riding my bike is not really irrational given the number of  times I’ve fallen off of it for no apparent  reason. It could be that my bike is beset by demons. Is that a common issue with Trek bicycles, I wonder?

I decide not to Google that.

Realize that being me is a full time job, and requires a lot of confessional and self analytical writing. Requires? Well. No, not really. I don’t have to do this. I could stop writing and be REALLY nuts. Trust me, this is better.

There could still be a few people out there who think I’m actually sane. The ones who haven’t met me.

So I guess my point is: what is a productive way to spend my day?

Then I accidentally post this before it’s actually finished. So, does that mean this was a waste of time? This is all very complicated.

I think I will just look at a picture of GingerBelle’s new puppy on Facebook….whatever being productive is, I’m sure it’s overrated. I got groceries. I exercised. I thought about cleaning. I’m good for now.