Apparently, I Need a Job. And Apparently, I Need to Figure Out Who I Am.
The job search is exhausting. Figuring out what I actually want from my life might be harder.
I've been job hunting.
And honestly?
It's exhausting.
I'm pretty sure at least 20% of the jobs I'm applying for are fake.
Another 70% probably go into some giant black hole where my resume will never actually be seen by a human being.
And then there's the remaining 10%.
The jobs that are actually real.
The jobs I could actually do.
The jobs that look like they might be a good fit.
And apparently, 5,000 other people had the exact same idea.
So that's fun.
I've spent hours reading job descriptions, tweaking resumes, answering application questions and trying to figure out whether the person contacting me is actually a recruiter or someone who just wants to sell me something.
At this point, I'm becoming pretty good at detective work.
"Congratulations! Your experience is exactly what we're looking for!"
Oh really?
"Yes! Please schedule a call so we can tell you about our exciting opportunity!"
Fantastic.
"The exciting opportunity is actually a service we're trying to sell you."
Ah.
There it is.
LinkedIn has actually been a useful resource for me, but even there I've learned that I need to vet people before responding.
Apparently, "recruiter" can mean a lot of things.
Sometimes it means recruiter.
Sometimes it means salesperson.
Sometimes I'm still trying to figure out what the hell it means.
But I know something is out there.
I just have to find the one.
The one job that pays enough for me to live.
The one that gives me financial stability without requiring me to give up my entire life.
The one where I can work hard, contribute, be proud of what I do and then go home.
Imagine that.
Going to work and then actually going home.
What a concept.
Maybe the Job Search Isn't Actually the Hardest Part
The more I look at jobs, the more I realize something.
Maybe finding the right job isn't just about figuring out what I'm qualified to do.
Maybe it's about figuring out who I am.
Which is slightly inconvenient because I was really hoping LinkedIn would answer that for me.
I've spent most of my life being something to somebody else.
I was a daughter.
Then I was a wife.
Then I was a mom.
Then I became a leader at work.
I've spent a huge part of my life being needed.
And I was good at it.
I took care of people.
I solved problems.
I showed up.
I made myself available.
I became the person people could count on.
But now I'm asking myself something I've honestly never spent much time thinking about:
Who am I if I'm not needed by someone else?
That's a pretty big question.
And unfortunately, there doesn't seem to be an online quiz for it.
"Which version of yourself are you?"
A. Exhausted
B. Confused
C. Slightly panicked
D. All of the above
Apparently I'm D.
Remmie Has Some Thoughts
I mean, Remmie definitely needs me.
Let's not get carried away.
He has absolutely no intention of letting me forget that he needs breakfast, walks, snacks, attention and approximately 47 opportunities per day to stare at me while I eat.
But Remmie doesn't define me.
He's part of my life.
He's part of my happiness.
He's part of my family.
But who am I?
That's the question I'm starting to wrestle with.
And maybe that's why this whole transition feels so overwhelming.
I'm trying to find a job.
I'm trying to find a home.
I'm trying to move to Tennessee.
I'm trying to figure out money.
I'm leaving a job that has made me angry, anxious and incredibly unappreciated.
I'm trying to figure out what my life is going to look like.
And at the same time, I'm realizing I don't even completely know what I want that life to look like.
Apparently, I thought I would have this figured out by 52.
Spoiler alert: I do not.
What Does Happiness Even Look Like?
I know I want happiness.
I want fun.
I want love.
I want excitement.
I want family.
I want health.
But what does that actually mean for me?
I'm not jumping out of an airplane.
Let's just get that out of the way.
I'm starting over at 52, not auditioning for Fear Factor.
Maybe excitement is discovering a new place.
Maybe it's taking a road trip.
Maybe it's finding a great restaurant.
Maybe it's going to a winery.
Maybe it's laughing until I cry.
Maybe it's getting in the car with Jocelyn and Bela and singing Ironic at the top of our lungs.
Maybe it's meeting people in Tennessee and finding my people.
Maybe I really will have to find myself a Bumble friend.
Yes.
Apparently, at 52, I may need an app to find someone who wants to go get coffee and complain about our lives.
What happened to making friends like normal people?
Then I Took Remmie for a Walk
And this is where things got weird.
Because I was walking Remmie.
And somehow, in the middle of picking up poop and trying not to trip over my own feet, I started thinking about the kind of company I actually want to work for.
And suddenly, I knew.
I want to work for a company that understands that happy employees matter.
A company where people feel appreciated.
A company where employees are encouraged to think outside the box.
A company where trying something new isn't immediately met with:
"We've always done it that way."
A company that understands that growth isn't just about numbers.
It's about people.
Because when employees are successful, supported and happy, the company benefits too.
I want to work somewhere that looks beyond my resume.
Beyond my education.
Beyond a list of job titles.
I want someone to look at what I've actually accomplished.
What I've built.
What I've improved.
How I've led people.
How I've solved problems.
How I've handled things that weren't in a job description.
I want a company that sees the person, not just the piece of paper.
And then I thought:
Can I actually put that on my resume without sounding completely ridiculous?
"Dear Hiring Manager,
I would like to inform you that I would like to be happy at work."
Yeah.
Maybe not.
But honestly, why shouldn't I say it?
If I'm starting over, shouldn't I at least be honest about what I'm looking for?
I'm not looking for a company that just wants to know what I can do for them.
I'm looking for a company where we can be successful together.
Maybe This Is What Redefining Success Actually Means
For years, I thought success meant moving up.
More responsibility.
More money.
More recognition.
A bigger title.
Being the person everyone needed.
And now?
I'm starting to think success might be much simpler.
I want to work somewhere I feel appreciated.
I want to make enough money to enjoy my life.
I want to have energy left when I get home.
I want to have people I love around me.
I want to be healthy.
I want to laugh.
I want to travel.
I want to experience things.
I want to wake up and not immediately feel like I'm already behind.
I want a life.
That's it.
All I really want is:
Happiness.
Family.
Love.
Health.
Everything else is just stuff.
My Brain, However, Has Other Plans
And maybe that's why my mind feels so completely out of control right now.
I'm leaving a job that makes me angry.
I'm leaving a place I've called home for more than 30 years.
I'm trying to find another job.
I'm trying to figure out where I'm going to live.
I'm trying to figure out money.
I'm trying to pack an entire life into a moving truck.
I'm trying to build a new life before I've even finished leaving the old one.
No wonder my brain won't shut up.
It's basically running 37 browser tabs and none of them are loading.
But then I take Remmie for a walk.
And somehow, everything gets a little clearer.
Maybe that's what I need to remember.
I don't have to figure out my entire life today.
I just have to take the next step.
Find the next job.
Pack the next box.
Take the next walk.
Make the next decision.
And eventually...
I'll be in Tennessee.
I'll be meeting dog people.
I'll be walking with my daughter.
I'll be helping plan a wedding.
I'll be figuring out which Dunkin' is Mom-approved.
I'll be making new friends.
I'll be building a life.
And maybe, somewhere along the way, I'll figure out who Cyndee is when she's not busy being everything to everyone else.
Maybe that's the biggest part of starting over.
I'm not just looking for a new job.
I'm looking for me.
And hopefully she's fun.
It's time I meet her.
Come along.