Since starting my new job my body has gone through a complete shock transition. I have been feeling giddy, panicky, unconfident, hugely tired and generally weird. I knew it was because of this high pressure job I’d taken on and it was playing havoc with my stress levels. I had been used to a gentle awakening each day with a quiet meditation and a slow breakfast with the family. Now, I set the alarm for six but am usually awake by half five in case it doesn’t go off – yes that’s before the sun come up some days. I hurtle round like a speeded up film grabbing clothes, shoving an iron over something, wolfing down some breakfast, choking on a handful of vitamins and jumping in the car, still tucking my shirt into my trousers as I’m belting down the country roads towards the mouth of the race track called the M27. I had been feeling so exhausted that I was wondering just how long I could keep up the job at this rate.
And then last week, I had a hot feeling all over me. It stopped me in my tracks and I realised that I was touching the start of the menopause. OMG, I never though it would happen to me. I can hardly type the word without sinking my head in shame. It wasn’t the job but this has coincided with a high pressure job and I’m struggling to keep it together.
I really understand why they call it ‘the change’ because I can feel my body changing rapidly. It’s so fundamental I can feel the metamorphism happening so deep that I can’t actually reach it. I’m one of those who can generally sense what’s out of sync and then fix it. But this time I’m powerless and it’s leaving me feeling out of control; that’s more scary than the symptoms.
Fingers crossed and I can hold on and manage both the change and the job.
Monday, July 6, 2009
WEDNESDAY'S JOB INTERVIEW
I’m going for a new job and I’ve just come back from the second interview. It was the most toe curling, cringe making, humiliating experience that is…. the second interview.
I firstly received ‘feedback’ from the assessment day.
“Maths not great, certainly not what we’d hoped but verbal reasoning? Appalling”. I shrivelled up inside like a slug that had been drenched in salt.
“So appalling that we were shocked” O…M….G what can I say now? I came out with some rather pathetic excuse about anyone being nervous on the day and but I realise I need to improve in this area. Worryingly, I had even rehearsed this bit after some advice from my friend Anne, a professional recruiter.
Then came the killer, “Considering you told us what a great saleswoman you were, we all, that is all three of us,” top honcho pointing to the row of people opposite me looking like a very mean gang, “noticed how quiet you were at lunch.”
Time to bluster, find the connection between me and them, justify my very existence for being sat in front of the Grand Jury,
“A good sales person listens to what the customer wants and doesn’t need to shout above the crowd.” Dynamite answer. It’s 2:1 (to them but at least I scored 1)!!! Now look me in the eye and tell me I’m not a cut above the rest.
Top Honcho replies “Yes, but you were supposed to be selling yourself to me.” It came quietly, without emotion. Blank face and tilted head…steady eyes awaiting response. I gazed past her whilst trying to look natural. I smiled my ‘enigmatic’ smile and tried to look gracious. But, it was game and set to her.
Following lots of hypothetical questions about what I might do if I went over-budget, how I manage competitors, what my marketing proposal would be, the final countdown began. “So why should we offer you the job?” I mean, what the hell are you supposed to reply to that?
Examples:
‘If you don’t I’ll kill myself’
‘Because I’ve nowhere else to go’
‘I’m so desperate I’ll lick your shoes every morning if you do’
I breathed deep and gave the appropriate answer: Because I bring to the table a blend of….with a richness that no other coffee can offer. Or words to that effect.
Afterwards, in the car, my body winced every ten seconds as I recalled my dodgy answers. And I felt so pissed off that I had to justify myself to another human being. Why God, Why? But, what I couldn’t figure out was why they invited me back. It would seem that there was nothing they liked about me. I should have said that. I should have stood up and demanded the WHOLE TRUTH SO HELP ME GOD.
Thursday
Just had a phone call. I’ve been offered the job!
I firstly received ‘feedback’ from the assessment day.
“Maths not great, certainly not what we’d hoped but verbal reasoning? Appalling”. I shrivelled up inside like a slug that had been drenched in salt.
“So appalling that we were shocked” O…M….G what can I say now? I came out with some rather pathetic excuse about anyone being nervous on the day and but I realise I need to improve in this area. Worryingly, I had even rehearsed this bit after some advice from my friend Anne, a professional recruiter.
Then came the killer, “Considering you told us what a great saleswoman you were, we all, that is all three of us,” top honcho pointing to the row of people opposite me looking like a very mean gang, “noticed how quiet you were at lunch.”
Time to bluster, find the connection between me and them, justify my very existence for being sat in front of the Grand Jury,
“A good sales person listens to what the customer wants and doesn’t need to shout above the crowd.” Dynamite answer. It’s 2:1 (to them but at least I scored 1)!!! Now look me in the eye and tell me I’m not a cut above the rest.
Top Honcho replies “Yes, but you were supposed to be selling yourself to me.” It came quietly, without emotion. Blank face and tilted head…steady eyes awaiting response. I gazed past her whilst trying to look natural. I smiled my ‘enigmatic’ smile and tried to look gracious. But, it was game and set to her.
Following lots of hypothetical questions about what I might do if I went over-budget, how I manage competitors, what my marketing proposal would be, the final countdown began. “So why should we offer you the job?” I mean, what the hell are you supposed to reply to that?
Examples:
‘If you don’t I’ll kill myself’
‘Because I’ve nowhere else to go’
‘I’m so desperate I’ll lick your shoes every morning if you do’
I breathed deep and gave the appropriate answer: Because I bring to the table a blend of….with a richness that no other coffee can offer. Or words to that effect.
Afterwards, in the car, my body winced every ten seconds as I recalled my dodgy answers. And I felt so pissed off that I had to justify myself to another human being. Why God, Why? But, what I couldn’t figure out was why they invited me back. It would seem that there was nothing they liked about me. I should have said that. I should have stood up and demanded the WHOLE TRUTH SO HELP ME GOD.
Thursday
Just had a phone call. I’ve been offered the job!
DOG LIFE
I’m not a doggy person but I’m worried I maybe turning into one. Our best friends’ golden retriever got out and mated with two dogs: a grey whippet and a black lab. All fingers were crossed as the retriever was giving birth. We wouldn’t have had a whip-triever (can you imagine?) but we did go for the re-lab. That was 8 months ago and our life has changed.
She’s turning out to be a bit mad. For instance, she goes wild at the vet’s. My husband Pete took her last time and I forgot to forewarn him. When he got back he had to lie down. I asked him how it went, ‘Embarrassing’ was all he could reply. Apparently, after the vet had poked his head out with ‘Next’ and saw what was going on with the dog, he hastily shut his door just before yelling, ‘Just weigh the dog’. It took Pete all his strength and wits to get her on the scales but without success. As soon as he got in the treatment room, she ran into an open cupboard and buried herself in the swabs. Pete spent the whole time apologising and we’ve moved vets.
Walks are proving to be interesting. As soon as the dog sees the lead come out of the cupboard she gets into a complete frenzy. She knows she’s got to calm down because she looks guilty but at the same time she can’t help herself. We get to the car and she hurls herself into the boot. We then drive to the forest and she’s drooling with excitement. She’s certainly getting better during the walk. There was a time she’d simply run off but through resorting to a pocketful of treats she’s now coming back. I had to take action after the time she ran behind a dog who was running behind his master’s bike. It was after screaming myself hoarse with ‘come here!!!!!’ that I had to run after the f****** dog to catch her. I’d say it was the UK record for the 1 minute mile in wellies. Thankfully, she’s learning where here bread is buttered and now coming back when I call.
But, getting her back in the car is a nightmare. After shouting ‘jump’ or ‘in’, she just looks at me – like a victim about to enter the gallows. She’s too wet to pick up and I’m losing patience. I walk her ten metres up the road and then run towards the boot as if I’m show jumping at Hickstead. She gallantly runs beside me then refuses at the gate. I want to scream. She knows how to get in because she does it when we’re going out. I’m about to give her the full volume treatment when I notice the gentile couple walking past with their incredibly obedient FULL PEDIGREE lab. I return the ‘good afternoon’ and pick up my dog and place her in the boot.
And she’s such a thief. She gets something in her mouth, surreptitiously, and before you can shout ‘stop’ she’s run to the end of the garden where she disappears with the said item into her lair. It’s impossible to get to it unless we dig up the boundary hedge but I happen to know that somewhere deep in that dark place there are eleven tea towels, one school shoe, at least four pairs of socks, a bathroom sponge, two rolls of toilet paper and a roll of plastic bin liners. Last week she was trying to nick a bag of screws. Pete happened to see her skulking out of the garage with the bag in her mouth. As soon as he shouted at her she knew she was in trouble and dropped them before tearing down the garden into her den. The thing I want to know is – why a bag of screws?
The very fact I’m blogging about my dog worries me. As I said, I’m not a doggy person but she seems to have got under my skin.
She’s turning out to be a bit mad. For instance, she goes wild at the vet’s. My husband Pete took her last time and I forgot to forewarn him. When he got back he had to lie down. I asked him how it went, ‘Embarrassing’ was all he could reply. Apparently, after the vet had poked his head out with ‘Next’ and saw what was going on with the dog, he hastily shut his door just before yelling, ‘Just weigh the dog’. It took Pete all his strength and wits to get her on the scales but without success. As soon as he got in the treatment room, she ran into an open cupboard and buried herself in the swabs. Pete spent the whole time apologising and we’ve moved vets.
Walks are proving to be interesting. As soon as the dog sees the lead come out of the cupboard she gets into a complete frenzy. She knows she’s got to calm down because she looks guilty but at the same time she can’t help herself. We get to the car and she hurls herself into the boot. We then drive to the forest and she’s drooling with excitement. She’s certainly getting better during the walk. There was a time she’d simply run off but through resorting to a pocketful of treats she’s now coming back. I had to take action after the time she ran behind a dog who was running behind his master’s bike. It was after screaming myself hoarse with ‘come here!!!!!’ that I had to run after the f****** dog to catch her. I’d say it was the UK record for the 1 minute mile in wellies. Thankfully, she’s learning where here bread is buttered and now coming back when I call.
But, getting her back in the car is a nightmare. After shouting ‘jump’ or ‘in’, she just looks at me – like a victim about to enter the gallows. She’s too wet to pick up and I’m losing patience. I walk her ten metres up the road and then run towards the boot as if I’m show jumping at Hickstead. She gallantly runs beside me then refuses at the gate. I want to scream. She knows how to get in because she does it when we’re going out. I’m about to give her the full volume treatment when I notice the gentile couple walking past with their incredibly obedient FULL PEDIGREE lab. I return the ‘good afternoon’ and pick up my dog and place her in the boot.
And she’s such a thief. She gets something in her mouth, surreptitiously, and before you can shout ‘stop’ she’s run to the end of the garden where she disappears with the said item into her lair. It’s impossible to get to it unless we dig up the boundary hedge but I happen to know that somewhere deep in that dark place there are eleven tea towels, one school shoe, at least four pairs of socks, a bathroom sponge, two rolls of toilet paper and a roll of plastic bin liners. Last week she was trying to nick a bag of screws. Pete happened to see her skulking out of the garage with the bag in her mouth. As soon as he shouted at her she knew she was in trouble and dropped them before tearing down the garden into her den. The thing I want to know is – why a bag of screws?
The very fact I’m blogging about my dog worries me. As I said, I’m not a doggy person but she seems to have got under my skin.
WON'T MENTION IT
Since I posted my last blog, Cry, Baby Cry, I’ve had friends and family weeping down the phone or sending messages of concern all anxious about my mental health. ‘Are you OK?’ they’ve asked whilst tilting their head with more than a little of the ‘nutcase doctor’ about them. What I thought was a perfectly reasonable account of how I spent a couple of hours being aware my imminent loss seems to have turned into everyone else’s emotional ‘ground zero’.
It’s taken me somewhat by surprise. I’ve always been one to speak honestly about how I feel and where I’m at. Attending hundreds of 12 step meetings has helped break any taboos about hiding it. It really is no big deal. I find the more I do it, the more blasé I become about telling it like it is. And in those rooms – everyone does it.
Perhaps it was the written version that created the mini furore. Undoubtedly it’s much easier to be descriptive on paper than on the phone. You can better get into the guts of the stuff when you’ve got the time and a keyboard. It might be that the word ‘cry’ was explained a little more like ‘howl’ and in letting my creative streak run free, I have brilliantly described in writing what I normally verbally impart in a low key style.
But now I think back on it, when I passionately divulge deep stuff, I do get a lot of the ‘pull your socks up’ response. And you can tell when it’s coming by others’ uneasy body language. It’s not all my close friends who bristle but certainly the ones who don’t like to talk about their ‘stuff’. The ones who do love to talk about their stuff see my ramblings as mere watchamacallits and simply add their own personal reflection without batting an eyelid.
I’d better watch what I say from now on. In fact, I’ll definitely keep to myself the episode on Saturday when I went to visit my Grandma in hospital and after I had spoon fed her 2 custard tarts and a chocolate éclair that she said ‘If I don’t see you again Bella, I always loved you, even when your mother rejected you.’ When big fat tears rolled down my cheeks I lay my head on her bed and sobbed. She knew I was there and she put her hand on my head. When I looked up several, long minutes later, I noticed that all seven of the other old ladies were staring at me and I felt a complete pillock. Even as I walked out I felt their eyes on my back. I certainly shut the old lady up who had been shouting ‘Help, I’m going to die!’ for a good 20 minutes.
No, I won’t mention that episode to my friends and family.
It’s taken me somewhat by surprise. I’ve always been one to speak honestly about how I feel and where I’m at. Attending hundreds of 12 step meetings has helped break any taboos about hiding it. It really is no big deal. I find the more I do it, the more blasé I become about telling it like it is. And in those rooms – everyone does it.
Perhaps it was the written version that created the mini furore. Undoubtedly it’s much easier to be descriptive on paper than on the phone. You can better get into the guts of the stuff when you’ve got the time and a keyboard. It might be that the word ‘cry’ was explained a little more like ‘howl’ and in letting my creative streak run free, I have brilliantly described in writing what I normally verbally impart in a low key style.
But now I think back on it, when I passionately divulge deep stuff, I do get a lot of the ‘pull your socks up’ response. And you can tell when it’s coming by others’ uneasy body language. It’s not all my close friends who bristle but certainly the ones who don’t like to talk about their ‘stuff’. The ones who do love to talk about their stuff see my ramblings as mere watchamacallits and simply add their own personal reflection without batting an eyelid.
I’d better watch what I say from now on. In fact, I’ll definitely keep to myself the episode on Saturday when I went to visit my Grandma in hospital and after I had spoon fed her 2 custard tarts and a chocolate éclair that she said ‘If I don’t see you again Bella, I always loved you, even when your mother rejected you.’ When big fat tears rolled down my cheeks I lay my head on her bed and sobbed. She knew I was there and she put her hand on my head. When I looked up several, long minutes later, I noticed that all seven of the other old ladies were staring at me and I felt a complete pillock. Even as I walked out I felt their eyes on my back. I certainly shut the old lady up who had been shouting ‘Help, I’m going to die!’ for a good 20 minutes.
No, I won’t mention that episode to my friends and family.
CRY, BABY CRY
I had a really good cry last weekend. Not just a few tears. I howled! Great gulping bucketfuls of heart wrenching tears. I was writhing on my bed holding my stomach and sobbing out loud. It came from right inside and there was nowhere deeper to go. And, once I got going, I went for it. I’m surprised no one dialled 999 I was making such a noise. I let go of trying to hold everything in. For a whole hour (yes, it is quite an effort to keep it up that long) I handed everything over to…don’t know…but I stopped trying to control it all and I let it all out! And, boy, did I cry.
The reason? My Grandmother is dying. She’s given me the maternal nurturing throughout my life. but now she’s 96 and on her way out. She says it’s time to go and – good on her – I respect her for it. But for me, it’s a great loss and the importance of the loss dawned on me this weekend.
I sobbed for the mother figure I was losing but also my real mother that never was, and most importantly, the mother I always dreamt about but never had. All I had ever wanted was a cosy mummy who would sit me on her knee and rub my back and tell me the world was fine and that I was OK. That was it. First – last – and everything. I never wanted anything more. I wept over the lost dream and for all the dreams that never came true.
And when I finished there were literally no more tears left (unless I gulped down a litre of water). I sat up and patted my streaky face, straightened my hair and got on with the rest of the day. And what a day it was. It felt as though all the worries I had been carrying around for months had gone. I was cleansed. The tears had purged me of all the sorrow and disappointment. The ton of stress I had lugged on my back had washed away with a shed load of debris.
And a week later I’m left feeling light, positive, content and stress free. I’ve got my old perspective back i.e. how important is it? I’ve stopped yearning for something different. I’m much happier with what I’ve got. Long may it last.
It’s quite amazing how a build up of stress can have quite such a powerful influence on everything, not just the thing I’m stressed about. Stress is like a dam and when it builds up it blocks everything up until the river stops flowing. Tears unblock it and then everything else is set free. I will remind myself of this next time. Tears before bedtime? Sound good to me.
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