Caesura

When I was in my early twenties I moved four times in five years.  Some of those moves meant I was seeking a new job.  I was fortunate to have a safety net in the form of a gainfully employed boyfriend.  So while it was important to find work and start earning money, I certainly was in no danger of living in the street and had the gift of time to be selective.  Problem is, I didn’t have a career plan for myself back then, nor did I view these sojourns as chances to make intentional moves. 

There is something inherently messy about being between jobs.  Most of us have an aversion to how this feels.  We writhe and twist as if bees are swarming poised to sting.  We wallow in guilt over not pulling our weight, and shifting an unnecessary burden on to our partners.  It can be embarrassing to admit we’re out of work even if it is through no fault of our own.  And there is uncertainty in landing something at all, let alone something we’ll be happy with.  I always found a bitter irony in the fact that while I finally had some free time, I was so consumed by culpability and angst that I couldn’t permit myself to really enjoy it. 

Eagerly snatching up the first job I was offered soothed the burning desire to take up residence back on firm ground. Most of us can’t sign up fast enough.  The danger in this is that we can end up headed in a direction we don’t want to go, or undercut our worth.  Luckily for me, although I was not particularly strategic about my moves, looking back on my choices, I was unconsciously trading skills I had already mastered for the opportunity to learn something new, a tactic I recommend to others looking to move in new directions. 

Now, years later, I find myself in a similar position.  I’m between roles at my current company; caught again in that space that can only be described as “the awkward”. Thankfully, I’ve acquired some wisdom and a little patience since the last time I put myself here.  I am in no way any more comfortable than I was twenty-five years ago, but I’ve decided there may be some benefit to lingering in the awkward.  There is tremendous power in the pause.

This time around, I’ve invoked a vision, both to keep myself grounded and to ensure I make decisions that honor my commitment to continue moving in the direction I want to go. I have pledged to myself that I will remain in the awkward as long as it takes, no matter how badly it makes me squirm, to get to the best place possible.  Instead of tightly squeezing my eyes shut, hands clenched and praying this tumultuous roller coaster ride will soon be over, I’m going to really be in it, eyes wide open, arms overhead, screaming my lungs out.

I believe this is imperative and here’s why:  The awkward is a turning point, a multi-tined fork in the road, a rare chance to calibrate my compass and consider my course. Glomming on to the first option that comes my way, just to restore some semblance of normal, does me an injustice. I don’t settle anymore.  I just don’t. I carefully weigh options and will entertain compromise and even alter my direction if a new opportunity presents advantages I hadn’t thought of before. But I don’t give up on what I want.

The very fact that I am looking for a new role within my company moves me into an active networking mode.  I’ve unleashed something so powerful in this it’s almost impossible to contain.  In my quest to work in areas I’m passionate about, I’ve reached out to internal connections as I mine for job opportunities, and in some cases I’ve been innocuously launched into the outside world. I’m no longer tossing business cards in a box never to be looked at again; I’m following up with the engaging and talented people I’m meeting and sharing information that can help me realize my dreams of publishing a book and building a coaching practice.   This is the essence of embracing the awkward.

The first step I’ve taken since making this promise to myself is to ascertain those who can influence where I land are clear on and support where I’m headed. I had a candid conversation with a sponsor of mine about my aspirations in the organization.  I laid it all out, stating I see my possibilities as limitless and that, for me, it’s all about putting myself in the right place to capitalize on everything I have to offer, maximize my earnings and stay on course to meet my goals.  I need to be evaluating opportunities against those criteria. 

Wow!  Right?  Can you believe I said that?

Funny thing is, I needed to hear myself say those words - out loud to him - more than I needed him to hear me.  There was a time when I wondered whether this isn’t just hubris.  Do I think I’m better at what I do than I really am?   I’ve since decided the answer is moot. The real issue is getting comfortable with saying that I’m good at what I do and can take myself as far as I want to go:   A whole new kind of awkward.

Many women struggle with the idea that speaking up about career goals is somehow selfish.  We accept positions we are over-qualified for and stay in them well after we have mastered the role under the guise of being a team player.  I would argue that unless I’m in a position where I can exploit as much of my talent as possible for the benefit of my colleagues, clients, and myself, I am being underutilized and we’re all being done a disservice. 

I have been struggling with hitting the “Publish” key on this post for a few days, second guessing myself since speaking to my sponsor, feeling like maybe I was a little out of line; until I was asked for advice this morning by a super talented woman in my organization pondering a similar issue.  I knew I had said all the right things advocating for myself when I started reciting this draft in response to her situation. It’s okay to want more for ourselves.

While I may have initially shocked my sponsor with a vision that seemed brazen to me, I have no doubt he’s heard far less eloquent versions of this message many times in the past from my male colleagues.  He offered that we meet with another advocate of mine to brainstorm options for me.  I’ve already put the meeting on the calendar. 

Meanwhile I’m telling myself to trust the mess and hunkering down for a little more time in the awkward.  I’m envisioning I’ll need sizeable rations:  My trusty suit of armor, measured doses of “your opinion is none of my business”, vials of fortitude, a little grit and a steady drip of wisdom to know when it’s time to resume play.