Cinderella
I’ve been on the job hunt for six months, applied to more than 60, maybe 70 jobs. I lost count two months ago at 47 positions when I added the applications in response to my boys’ claim that I was purposely out of work and leeching off their poor, hardworking father. Obviously I vehemently and loudly called BS. And then I took a hard look at how I relate to the word “leech,” my abhorrence to receive help, the pride and shame which prevented me from filing the unemployment paperwork and the unhealthy/yo-yo way in which I attach my sense of self and worth to the work that I do.
As I shed these thoughts, a star has risen with the idea of returning to school, to gain a Masters in Depth Psychology and engage deeply in storytelling via teaching mythology, writing and leading rituals. Here is where my tribe is awaiting me (two psychics, three friends and a partridge in a pear tree told me so). I try to relax into the idea that I just must get a job to pay the bills. I pep talk myself into the idea that I don’t have to be completely synonymous with my 9 to 5 work life while aiming for a larger goal of getting that degree. Maybe the degree will make me even better at what I’m doing. Maybe I will leave this world of public relations and marketing indefinitely. Maybe I will be a sought-after storyteller in all fields, from education to community to nature to business. As for today, I can’t see the path ahead of me and that scares me and makes me really nervous about what new challenges will arise.
I’m not sure whether to trust as I fall into debt, preserve energy for an even greater fall or just throw in the towel… but that’ s impossible. I’m a mom who wants more than anything to be here and now with my boys… just not sure how to do that with $76 in the bank to last for the next two weeks. I suppose people have far less and I am resourceful. So I have decided to look at the 60 plus jobs as simply not the right fit for me.
It’s not that I’ve done anything wrong, am undesirable or unqualified. I am not alone seeking the perfect fit; the perfect fit is also seeking me. I am Cinderella.n And the glass slipper is scouring the land in search of me and my unique foot. And what an uncommon, tremendously special foot it is – sweet, cute, strong, tender, powerful, little rough around the edges, grippy, a funky toenail, a tiny bunion, a bright green vine tattoo, an adorable mole on the big toe... takes an extremely special shoe to bring out the best of my podiatry masterpiece… to make walking feeling like flying. Sigh.Honestly, though I struggle with this idea of accepting any old shoe (aka job) as simply as a means to an end.
Yet, I can tell you, after half a year of seeking the perfect fit, mediocrity has its merits. And still, even a poor shod eludes me. I am confused and exhausted. So I rest my thoughts and heart on the idea of being Cinderella, knowing there is a shoe (aka job) seeking me, even as I’m looking for it... perhaps, this job knows better than I, it is a good fit for “right now.” In fact, it is the perfect fit for my next steps. Our destiny together may be long or a short lived journey, a walk across the bridge from where I am now, safely over the abyss to the next adventure, which in itself is the perfection.
