My confidence level, very, rarely stays high. As low as the Marianas Trench, now, I can manage that no problem.
I’m so good at having low-confidence I could even give talks on the subject. Not that anyone would want to listen to me droning on…
You get the picture; I love to talk myself down. And given that it is now four months since I quit work. Summer has been and gone, the days are becoming shorter, and doubts are sneaking-up to hide in the shadows waiting to pounce.
Where’s an Alchemist when you need one?
Let me make it clear, I do not regret leaving my previous employment, in fact, I believe it will turn out to be the best decision I ever made. No, NEWSFLASH, it is the best decision I have ever made in my life so far. However…
At the moment the goals I am working towards haven’t been bringing in the big bucks.
“My other piece of advice, Copperfield,” said Mr. Micawber, “you know. Annual income twenty pounds, annual expenditure nineteen nineteen six, result happiness. Annual income twenty pounds, annual expenditure twenty pounds ought and six, result misery. The blossom is blighted, the leaf is withered, the God of day goes down upon the dreary scene, and – and in short you are forever floored. As I am!”
From David Copperfield by Charles Dickens.
Perhaps they never will. I knew that when I made my decision. But still when someone asks me have I got a job(?), have I been applying for jobs(?). I get angry. Now those that ask me have I got employment tend to know far more about my “Grand Plan” than I have shared online. They shouldn’t need to ask loaded questions, right?
The Big Push
However, the real reason I get angry is because, whisper it, I’ve been asking myself the same.
Is the “Grand Plan” a load of old tosh? I’ll fail at this goal; I’m not good enough to fulfil that role. No one wants to read my poems, let alone my stories. It’s pointless, I’m useless.
For some reason, this time, this self-depreciation made me think of Weebles…
…you know the things that wobble, but won’t fall down.
Because I know it is just a wobble, I’m not falling over; and if I do fall over then so what. At worst, it is a grazed knee or a bruised ego. The plan goes on.
Well this time there is a difference, this time I actually like and respect the person I am working for, because I am my own boss. That does not mean I haven’t had some good bosses in the past and that I won’t at some future date find myself within a traditional career structure and happy to be there.
For this is not about self-employment, this is about self-respect.
Yes, my current boss makes mistakes, wastes time, spends way too long in coffee shops just staring out of the window, and is the only one who finds his crappy jokes funny. But overall, he is making progress.
Yes, the “Grand Plan” may be held together by sticky backed plastic and forward motion may be limited to a series of Weeble wobbles but I am wholly responsible for my own future.
© 2015 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.