I lost my job only to find myself

I used to wake up to a constant struggle between “I hate myself, and I cannot do IT anymore” and “I need to pay the rent, and everyone does IT, so can I.”
“IT” was a full-time soulless administrative job. Now, all in all, it was not too bad — it did not involve any huge responsibilities or critical thinking, and the pay was decent.

Then I was fired. In the most disheartening way.

I came to the office as usual, but before I had even reached my desk, my manager called me in to hand me a hasty resignation letter. I was “kindly” offered to sign it and leave the office, effective immediately.

My first instinct was not even “why.” My first instinct was to cry.

I felt humiliated. What could have I possibly done to be kicked out like this — as if I committed some crime, negligence so awful, that I was not even given a chance to explain myself.
I left the office (still not crying), I walked to my apartment (not crying), but as soon as I stepped inside, I burst into tears.

It certainly took me a couple of hours to compel to any sort of rational thinking. A couple of hours, another hour of heavy lifting in the gym, and 10 minutes of meditation with Sam Harris.

I could of course just log in to LinkedIn or any other job board, apply to a bunch of offers vaguely matching my job experience, and soon enough that would have landed me another “I’m here for the pay” position.
But that was not rational thinking.

That was “everyone does it, so can I.”

***
This is my “favorite” conversation to have with my mom. Her views, as you’d expect, differ from mine the same way a potato is not a tomato.

My father was killed in a car accident when I was 8, leaving my mom to raise my little sister and myself. And while she did receive significant help from both my grandparents and aunt, that was not the kind of support which pays the bills and buys food. My mom had to work. A lot. She eventually had moved to a bigger city, while my sister and I stayed with our grandparents in a small suburban town. She visited us every weekend and had to travel for 3 hours on a bus, crowded with street vendors and hustlers. She hated that bus, her job, and being separated from her children.

She still did all of that — because she was never given another option.

Partly because of her example, partly because of the stigma attached to unemployment, I could not bear the thought of losing a job. It had nothing to do with the job — any job — itself. It did not matter whether I enjoyed it. Most people don’t like their jobs. It’s not normal — but still widely accepted. It did not matter how it made me feel. And I felt useless, replaceable as if I were another piece of furniture next to my desk. But at least I was getting paid.

And that, as I was told, was just another piece of the puzzle we call “life”.

***
That same day when I got fired — which was also the first time I was fired ever — I realized that whatever in theory has worked for everyone else, could not work for me anymore.

It was not only about liking it or not. There was no purpose behind any of the jobs I had — customer service, reception, personal assistant, administrative work.

I graduated from university as a teacher, to work with kids, but diploma I obtained back in Russia, was useless here in Spain — unless I had the money to pay for its “assessment for comparability,” whatever the heck it meant.

Now I could sit here and blame the Spanish ministry of education, bad luck, even my mother, or life in general for all my sorrows. It’s easy and painless, just like sitting in the office bitching in your Twitter feed 8 hours a day.

But if I am being completely honest with myself, I have never tried hard enough. I always had that comfortable meaningless job to pay the rent, to go out once in a while, to buy that dress, the shoes, and the purse to match the shoes.

All those “everyone does it so can you,” “no one likes their job anyway,” “you need to work to pay the rent” — gave the impression that this experience of life I was having, no matter how miserable it was, was, in fact, an absolute, THE life.

***
I don’t believe it to be the case anymore.
We all get just one chance at this thing — think about it. I am not advocating you to go and change the world, and your life probably does not matter on a global scale.

Think of something you like. Think of something that makes you smile. Think of something that makes you so entertained that you forget to have a meal, or check your phone.

Don’t leave your day job, and don’t get yourself fired, because, honestly, it’s no fun living off unemployment benefits — but make a habit of doing one thing you truly love every day.

***
My mom still thinks I need to work full-time. And I don’t blame her.
I think I am fine with subletting my apartment, working part-time, and finding the time to do the things that I genuinely enjoy.

Sometimes it’s writing. Sometimes it’s teaching English to kids at a non-profit. Sometimes it’s deadlifting until the palms of my hands burn.

Sometimes it’s drawing Peppa Pig with the kids I volunteer with.

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