Everyone I know who has a business has a website and a newsletter and a blog. We are self-publishing. We are all writers. We all, it seems, have wisdom to share. I remember the first time that I pressed send when I wrote a blog post. I was lost in a reverie about how I spent time between jobs. I was remembering a very lonely, unoccupied me who was trying to keep her chin up while her spirits were sagging. At the time, I made a point of learning something new and being of service. Whether cooking a delicious curried pumpkin soup or doing a headstand, addressing envelopes for a fundraiser or tutoring illiterate adults, I made myself very busy doing something. And so it was that I wrote my lonely job seeking self into the world of other unhappy, underutilized job seekers. I published a quiet blog posting offering a supportive voice and kindness. If I wanted to share anything, it was really the message – you are not alone. You are worthy just as you are right now unemployed and wanting. I know how it feels and I care.
Ten years and many blog posts later, I have continued to write myself into the invisible blog post world. I have told stories of being fired and laid off, of having lost a job I moved cross country for with only my brother as a friend in my new home. I have also written about my accolades. I was the fastest counter girl at MacDonald’s. I have a near perfect grant writing record. I landed a line item in the federal budget for an environmental justice program.
My writings of myself are more spirit than work history. I have spoken of my deep longing to be heard and appreciated. I have pondered how doubting thoughts and self-consciousness take away my voice, put my shoulders in a hunch and furrowed my brow. I have told the truth about my inconsistencies, that I act proud and impressive when I’m feeling small. I have spoken of my role models, especially my dear Omama who adored me and shined appreciation on my every wrinkle and my big dog Otis who simply stood and conveyed ease, not suffering squawking little dogs or a sideways glance. I always told my clients to channel Otis in a job interview. Be your big self and assume everyone will like you. If not, just wag your tail and walk away.
I wrote myself in the world and in doing so, allowed myself to be seen and felt. I trusted that kindred spirits might also be in the world and find value in my words and my honesty.