A Little Experiment that Paid Off BIG Time; But Not In The Way You Think
Part TWO of Hi, My Name is Kim and I'm a Workaholic
You can find Part One of this story, Hi My name is Kim and I’m a Workaholic linked here. Both are stand-alone essays, so you can catch up now or later, the order isn’t important. What’s important is you are here and I’m happy to have you.
I have questions. So many questions. I have been a workaholic for my entire working life, does that mean I will always be one? Can I work and NOT be all in? Where it becomes all consuming?
Do I even know how to just be a normal worker-person? Go in, do my job, go home. Period. That’s all. Am I able to function at the highest level? Do I even have it in me anymore?
These were just some the questions rattling around my brain before I began my little experiment this past month. I’ve been calling it that because what else do you call trying to go back to work after not working for over 3 years?
I needed to dip my toe back into the work waters. Having been diagnosed with PTSD after working for five years in an environment that sucked the life out of me, it was a challenge (or a fear?) I needed to face.
Exposure therapy they call it. I felt ready to be exposed…sort of.
I did warn my boss. He seemed to have all the confidence in the world in me and I didn’t want him to be surprised if I turned out to be a dud. I didn’t have the confidence in myself he seemed to have, but I was curious…So curious. I had questions I wanted answers to, so I rode the wave of his confidence, hoping it would be enough to carry the both of us through to the end.
I officially finished the temporary job on October 19th. It’s taking me days to recover and allow my nervous system to come to a place of rest. I’m not there yet. Even now as I write this, I’m finding it difficult to sit down and focus, but I promised you Part Two within the next week (or two) and we’re at two-ish weeks, so here goes.
I’ve got the job, I’ve been assigned as Lead Trainer, in a few short days I’ll be standing in front of a room full of people teaching them about their various jobs at the polling stations.
The first problem I encounter is in the morning, when I open my closet.
WHAT MATTERS IS WHAT’S ON THE INSIDE…UMMM. NOT ALWAYS.
“Oh shit.”
In my downsizing, I have kept only a few staple-type blouses, one blazer (a beautiful baby blue, fitted designer one that makes me feel like a boss), and absolutely no dress pants. I own jeans that don’t fit and a lot of stretchy pants. Lululemon tights that last forever and through various ‘growth spurts’ around my middle.
The emergency call goes out to my daughter. Unlike me, she is into beauty and fashion. She runs a highly successful bridal beauty business, Kreativ Beauty. About the only thing she picked up from me is the entrepreneurial drive and the ability to work hard. All my kids have that in spades.
As she’s currently pregnant with her third baby, I can raid her closet with impunity.
“I need dress pants. I have no suitable clothes to wear while I’m working,” I say, slightly panicked.
At her house, she begins to pull black dress pants, black blouse, a cream camisole, a white blazer, gorgeous linen cream/white pants and a black/brown, tweed type blazer.
I tell her I have a blazer already.
“It’s not fitted is it?” she asks knowingly.
“Yes, why?”
I learn that the current style for blazers is “oversized.” To me, this looks somewhat silly, but she assures me, this is the style. I having no knowledge of style, and never have, so I trust her, even if I think it looks ridiculous.
I don’t have dress shoes and she wears a bigger shoe size than me, but I’m desperate. I borrow her black shoes with a gold buckle to complete the outfits. I’ll just wear thicker socks (another faux pas, I’m sure, but I won’t tell her.)
She fixes my hair, my eyebrows and puts on some lipstick in just the right shade. I am transformed.
Knowing I have appropriate, nice clothes to wear to work, eases the anxiety that was threatening to overwhelm me. It’s amazing what a few key pieces can do to settle your mind when you know you’ve got something suitable to wear. Especially when you have to present yourself to a large group of people. Something I haven’t done in years.
FOLLOW THE LEADER, EVEN WHEN SHE DOESN’T WANT TO LEAD
There are five different polling station jobs, so one would think there would be five Power Point (PPT) training materials I’ll have to learn. However, there are different types of polling stations—full-tech or partial-tech, advanced polling and final voting day, special mobile teams. This means there are over ten different training PPTs I will have to learn before we get underway.
First problem, only a few of the training PPT’s are ready and the ones I’m going to need first, aren’t available yet.
“Hmmmm. OK, no problem, surely, they will be up before we have to start training people.”
Turns out, nope.
PREP, PREP AND PREP AGAIN. AND WHEN ALL ELSE FAILS, WING IT
Each of these training PPT decks are over 100 slides—most are around 120. This isn’t something you should be doing on the fly—and certainly not “winging it.”
Turns out, I’m exceptionally good at winging it. And, more importantly, making it look like I’m not really winging it.
I was asked to give a training session for the mobile teams that go around to hospitals and long-term care homes so people can vote. It was the day before they wanted me to deliver it. I was told it was very similar to the partial-tech training I had already delivered, so I studied what I could the night before and figured we’d make do.
The next morning, I was told, “good news, the training PPT arrived.” It’s 8:30am and I’m teaching at 9am.
Because of my issues management background, I decide to look at the slide deck to confirm it’s similar to what I had already been teaching. (Lessons one and two from my long career: Don’t ever leave anything to chance. And don’t ever believe people when they say it’ll be ok. That’s a sure-fire sign you need to be extra cautious.)
I take a look at the deck. Sure enough, nope, not so similar.
With 20-minutes to go before the class starts, I load the new training deck onto my laptop and deliver the training as if I know what I’m doing, confessing to them I have only just received this, but we were going to work our way through it together.
Adapting on the fly.
Four hours later, my nervous system is not happy, my cortisol levels are soaring, and yet I’m being told “that was the best training session we’ve had yet, you’re really good at this.”
Well, fuck me… If they only knew.
YOU’RE GOOD AT THIS
The day before, after training a different group, a couple came up to me afterwards to chat.
“We’ve been doing this for the last ten years. You are the best trainer we’ve ever had—either federally or provincially—by far. You must’ve done this before.”
“Really?” I respond in complete shock. “No,” I reply. “This is my first time working at an election.”
“Well, you must be used to public speaking,” they say.
“Yes, I suppose I am.” I reply.
Post exchange, I ponder what just happened.
And I smile…a big smile. And it’s not why you think.
Before Kim, worked for compliments and affirmations like the ones I had just received. The pats on the head saying “good girl.”
My self-worth would swell and I would feel the rush of the dopamine hit. Telling myself “Ya, look at you go girl. You’re good at this.”
Today Kim?
I took in their words and….
NOTHING.
No dopamine rush.
No patting myself on the back.
No feeling the sense of self-worth swelling with every kind word.
Enough therapy makes me realize I’m processing something important…. HOLY SHIT! This is different. I smile a very big smile.
As I continue to process this moment, I realize three things:
I don’t care about the compliments I’ve just received. While very nice, they matter not one whit to me or how I feel about myself. This is a HUGE revelation.
I feel no rush. No surge of adrenalin or dopamine. I don’t need to feed off this type of affirmation. This is different.
I don’t want this. I don’t need to be here to know I have self-worth.
By the time the second set of compliments and “good jobs” rolled around, they are saying this in front of one of the head guys.
He chimes in, “Oh, that’s two compliments in two days. Better not say too much, or she’ll get a big head.”
Why is it impossible for men, when a woman is being complimented in front of them, to just keep their mouth shut? Or say something kind in return?
Short of telling him to fuck off, which my inside voice and PTSD brain was aching to do…. INSTEAD, in a very calm voice, with not a hint of irony, I said, “oh, don’t worry, I will never be doing this again, so no fears of me getting a big head.”
JUST BECAUSE YOU CAN, DOESN’T MEAN YOU SHOULD.
Thank God for the ‘beginning, middle and end’ of my little experiment. At least my thinking was clear on that front.
This was a test. On two fronts: 1) Do I still got it? And 2) Can I still do it?
Did I pass? Sort of.
Yes, I still got it. I found my mojo. I was able to locate it and pull it out from the cobwebby sections of my brain. It spilled out rather easily. It was second nature to me. Like riding a bike.
And yes, I can still do it. BUT, it comes at a cost. A big one that I know now I can’t sustain and isn’t worth it to try anymore. My body has been damaged by the decades of running on constant adrenaline and dopamine rushes moving from one crisis project to another.
WHAT DO YOU DO FOR A LIVING? TURNS OUT I’M RETIRED.
As for the questions that have been knocking around in my head that I was hoping to answer by completing this experiment…
Ya…I’m cured.
My workaholic tendencies appear to be blunted if not outright gone.
My brain can still pull out the big hits when I need them, but I don’t need them anymore. They are in the past. And that’s perfectly OK with me. My mojo isn’t gone, it’s still there, but I can choose to use it for something good. Good for me and for others.
As for what now? I’m going to dabble in things. Things which may or may not make much money and hang out with people that make me happy. I’m going to write my newsletter, teach yoga, sell my garden flowers on a roadside stand next to my house, manage our oceanside bed & breakfast, hang out with my grandsons, take my dog for walks and swim in the ocean.
As for the rest of it…I’ll leave it to some other ambition monster1 that I know will happily take my place.2
P.S. One last thing…Join me for some fun and much needed stress relief.
PRE-HOLIDAY ELECTION DE-STRESS YOGA CHALLENGE
Starting November 1st, I’m going to be leading an online 30-day Yoga Challenge. I need it myself after my little experiment and if you live in the U.S. you will need it too!
HOW IT WILL WORK:
We’ll use the free videos from Yoga with Adrienne with a focus on the 30-day series “CENTER.” The classes are on average 20-25 minutes long. Do it on your own at a time that’s convenient for you.
There will be weekly 30-minute zoom calls to keep us accountable and chat about what worked well and what didn’t that week with our poses. And look ahead to the following week (Think of it as mini-group therapy! But with yoga, tea and friends.)
I’ll send out more details this weekend and we’ll get started with our first call next week in prep for November 1st.
What say you?
Have you experimented with anything lately that you weren’t sure about?
Post-retirement people…where are you? I’d love to hear from you and your experience as you made the switch from working to dabbling.
Any other workaholics out there…Have you tried to slow it down a bit? Did it work? Can you just be a “normie” at work, or is it impossible?
I recently learned that since I left my former organization, they have been through five CEO’s and are moving onto their sixth. In three years! This is either a testament to how stubborn (or stupid) I was to stick around for five years or how fucked up the board (and system) really are. How naïve was I that I thought I could ‘fix’ it.🤦🏼♀️ I suppose I can take comfort in the fact I was willing to step into the arena.
Also, your second footnote is an almost word for word description of the organization where I worked. Are we certain we didn’t work for the same outfit?
Kim, I found an item you need to think about: “Turns out, I’m exceptionally good at winging it. And, more importantly, making it look like I’m not really winging it.”
I was the same way. I also was the one who always got sent out to solve the nastiest problems on a moment’s notice. One Christmas office party, the big boss presented my wife with a lovely bouquet of flowers and thanked her for understanding that I needed to travel to Bolivia to take care of a critical emergency. My wife glared at me (as was her right) and I shrugged innocently, because I was as surprised as she was.
When I got back from cleaning up the mess, just in time for Christmas Eve, thank goodness, I was full of fire. I’m the type who turns it inward, which is good for the people around me, but for once, I decided to have a little conversation about it with my boss.
“What do you think I am, your personal Marine Corps?”
He thought for a moment, then said, “You’re good at thinking on your feet and cleaning up messes. Besides, you don’t seem to feel pain.”
I said some things, but kept doing what I did best, winging it and feeling no pain. It was a problem I came so close to addressing, but didn’t follow through.
And that’s how I ended up nearly falling off the edge.
Give it some thought, but only because I care.