Why we stay in jobs we hate - Part Three: Self Doubt

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This blog posting is the third in a 3-part series on why we stay in jobs we hate. Links to the first 2 articles are at the bottom of this page.



How we land in our jobs has a lot to do with circumstance, happenstance and being in a certain place at a certain time. Then it is easy to see how we stay; it’s the path of least resistance. Have you seen the opportunity to do something different but don’t act on it? Do you want to make a change but don’t know how? Deep inside of us is a belief, a belief that holds us back. How it shows up is self doubt.

Here’s the story of my crossroad and how I wrestled with trying to find my way.

 

I was paying for groceries with my credit card the day I was invited to a party, my bank account with only enough funds for the next month’s rent.

A plan needed to be made. Soon.

A single parent of 2, out of a long-time invigorating gig which sopped up a good deal of my energy and focus, I had no idea of where to turn. After several months of EI, I hadn’t figured out my next step. My claim had ended. I felt like I had squandered my time.

Up to this point, everything was about something or someone else. Parenting. Changing the world.

What do you want to do with your life? I kept asking myself.  I had no idea how to answer that question.

My parents had a totally different life. When my dad was only able to make a piecemeal living in southern Manitoba, my parents decided to go up north where there was the promise of many jobs and lots of opportunities.

My father never had a career plan. With a Grade 8 education and a strong body, his opening appeared in the construction field.  Which he did until he died. I didn’t ever know if he liked his job. Since he was an unhappy man, I am leaning towards no.

My mother worked in the family business, kept a busy family clothed, organized and fed; she went into the workforce when we were teenagers, having found the opportunity through a friend in the community.  

What I had learned from their role modeling was that you keep your eyes and ears open and grab those opportunities where you could.  

I wasn’t seeing any.

I had been doing financial management, having learnt the field from on-the-job training. Was that enough to land me a job? Before that I was self-employed as a typesetter for a recipe book company. Were there any jobs like that?

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Confused and lost

I realize now that the approach I was using was taking me in circles. By focussing on what I could do or where the jobs were, I was confused and lost.

What was clear is that I needed to get a job.

Unemployed and no prospects, I was questioning my ability to find work even though my job search was meager and unfocussed.

Later I would hear that 80% of people who found jobs were already employed.

Confidence was the ticket I heard from employers when they talked about how they chose their candidate.  That wears thin the longer you are unemployed.

Self doubt and fear

Self-doubt and fear are poor companions on a job search journey. Not only did I have a lot of confusion about where to go next, I had these other two responsibilities along for the ride. They needed me to get in gear. 

All of that self doubt and fear resulted in me being paralyzed. I wanted to make decisions but I couldn’t. I wanted to leap into my brilliant future but I couldn’t even imagine it. 

Many years later, there was an incident that shone a light on what was happening for me.

As a young employment counsellor, I met a former client on the street, a fellow who I hadn’t seen for a long time, not since he dropped out of the course he was taking and then vanished. He said he had wanted to talk to me for a long time.

He said to me, “Do you know why I didn’t follow through with that program?”

“No,” I said.

“Because you believed in me more than I believed in myself.” 

I realized that this is what happened to me long ago when I was scrambling to find work. I didn’t believe in myself.

What we hope for when we are struggling is there is someone who believes in us enough to get us going. What we need is to understand what is holding us back.

At the party, I saw people I hadn’t seen in a long time. Inevitably the question of what I was doing came up.

“Nothing.” I wanted to crawl out of the room.

One of my former teachers in a women’s studies program asked if I would consider working for the magazine where she was on the editorial board. “Yes!” I said. We set up a time for the interview.

Start where you are

Here’s what I learned from that situation (and others). Parties, as a job search tool, work.

And even amidst self-doubt, I had a lot to offer. I couldn’t see it. But my former teacher could. She believed in me. 

I ended up staying in finance, not an ideal match for me but it allowed me the flexibility to be with my homeschooled children, pay the rent and I gained some pretty useful skills.  The pressure was off.

This allowed me to have space to really think about what was a good fit for me. And to address the real elephant in the room. There was a core belief that was tripping me up.

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What holds us back

What I had brought along from my childhood was a belief that I didn’t matter. This threaded its way throughout my life but those threads formed a massive screen when it came to thinking about what it was that I wanted in the work scene. 

I didn’t know. Because it didn’t matter.

It didn’t matter that I find work that was a good fit for me. It didn’t matter that I enjoy myself at work. It didn’t matter when I dragged myself to work and felt like there was no hope for anything different.

That translated into not going to school to get the skills I needed.

Like my client, I did not believe in myself.

Someone to believe in me would have been helpful. But now I understand that you can have a lot of people rooting for you and that is not enough to dint the wall of not believing in yourself.

Believing in yourself is not something you can just decide to do. It means looking closely at that screen to see what is behind there.

Self doubt is the screen. What is holding that up is a belief, a core limiting belief that has been playing in the background for a long time. Once I saw how it operated, everything changed. 

If you enjoyed this article, you may also like the other 2 in the series:

Why we stay in jobs we hate: Part 2 - The Comfort Trap

Why we stay in jobs we hate: Part 1 - Unhappy is the Norm

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Why we stay in jobs we hate - Part Two: The Comfort Trap

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This is article is part 2 in a 3-part series on why we stay in jobs that are not a good fit.  I see each of these articles representing a legacy that is passed on to us through our communities, workplaces and cultures. This one is the legacy of comfort. The goal of work, it appears, is to get the highest pay with great benefits and where we can stay for a long time. We have the illusion that here we will be protected. In a world full of uncertainty, comfort feels…. comforting.

But what if comfort becomes a trap? Here’s what I learned about being in a comfortable job.

 

 

As I cut into the gluten-free cake, I looked around the room at each familiar face. We had been through a lot in the last 2 years, stretched to immense proportions.  Now we were solid. Or perhaps less jiggly.

I couldn’t imagine a day without these good people.

Having been a part of this work group for 7 years, I was comfortable. I knew the people well, appreciated their many gifts and talents and I had a sense of what needed to be done in my role. A bit of challenge. A bit of familiarity.

And I knew I had to leave. My farewell party was full of great reminiscences, laughter and of course gluten-free cake.

The road to this milestone moment was twisty. During the Christmas break 6 months prior to the party, finally feeling ease around the demands of the previous 18 months, I had a sense of needing a change.

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The first day back from holidays, it felt glaring. There is nothing like the fresh perspective of time away to cast a light on what we really want in our lives. How many people have come back from holidays and then handed in their resignation?

As the week unraveled with routines and the ease of working with the team, I settled down into daily tasks. This is an earmark of a comfortable life – the intensity of wanting to stay or leave rises and falls, enough that we are lulled to stay where we are.

The following week I was assigned a new directive – quality assurance. My new task was to make sure each staff member was entering the information into the computer in a certain way.  I was told that this was my strength. (This is one crucial red flag – someone else telling you what your strengths are. If you think other people know your strengths better than you, head for your nearest career coach.) 

What I knew for sure was that amount of detail and looking for errors that other people make was not even remotely a strength of mine.

Still, this is what was needed at the workplace. A good worker, I took it on.

Not too long after I started my new assignment, I noticed heaviness. It felt as if cement forming around my ankles. I started to feel it harden in me and I imagined heading into retirement, tired and miserable.

The need to move on hurled back to the top of my mind.

I had doubts. Though I was quite clear about the urge to do something different, I was also aware of what I would be giving up. Great salary. Six weeks of vacation a year. Special workmates.

Making a tough decision

I stewed and brewed.

Decision making does not come easily to me. Part of it is the “pressure prompted” nature of my personality type – I like to make decisions at the last minute just in case there might be another option. The other part was about making the right decision.

I remembered a strategy for dilemmas like mine. I would make the decision, not tell anyone and see how I felt about it. I sat with the decision for a month. What I noticed is that nothing felt wrong about it. There were parts that were exciting (and scary).

At the end of the month, I decided to move forward. With the new momentum, I had an idea of not only quitting my job but moving as well.

Listening to what matters

The first step, I realized, was being able to truly listen to myself, to not get caught up in all the fears that were arising and to embrace the excitement of new possibilities. Once I started telling people, there were lots of opinions. Isn’t it too late to start over? What if you don’t get a job? I started to recognize the difference between my fears and other people’s.

Taking yourself seriously

The second step was taking myself seriously. As much as all of those reasons for staying were important to my own well being, there was another that was bigger.

Regret.

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I didn’t want to have that in my life. I didn’t want a life where I looked back and said, “what if?” Hidden dreams had begun to surface. I wanted to feel alive. There was so much of the world that I hadn’t experienced, that I wanted. And then, there was the clincher. Time was not on my side. I didn’t have forever to go down a new road. Or to do everything on my life list.

I was ready to leave my comfortable behind.

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If you liked this article, you might also like:

Why we stay in jobs we hate - part one - Golden Handcuffs

Why we stay in jobs we hate - part three - Self Doubt

Why we stay in jobs we hate - Part One: Unhappy is the Norm

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This is the first article in a 3-part series on why people don’t pursue their dream jobs and stay in ones that are a horrible fit. It could be you. It definitely was me.

In this first blog posting, I look at how our culture rewards us for staying right where we are. I begin with my story.

The server placed our drinks on one side of the table. We reached over for our own. It was that bar. The kind where the servers are street tough and the windows are covered with dark paper so no light would enter.  It was shortly after 11 am.

Four of us had come together from our midnight shift at the factory, worn out and exhausted but doing what many do after their work – head out for a brew. Except of course this was morning.

 We all shared one thing – nothing about our jobs intrigued us.

 In fact, we were bored. Everything I learned when I first started the job several months before I learned in the first 15 minutes.  There was nothing I looked forward to except the machine breaking down. Something to break the monotony.

 How did I land there?

When I first moved to the city I was 18, no experience and no one willing to hire me to get the experience. My aunt, who had worked at the factory for over 40 years, vouched for me under the condition that I not quit because she was doing me a favour.

The midnight shift looked more interesting than the evening shift where I first started. Everyone who worked during the day seemed to take it a bit too seriously. My transfer was immediately approved. No one wanted the night shift.

Mostly I worked alone or with one other person. Our middle-of-the-night lunch hour is where I met my buddies, guys who liked to have fun, exactly what an 18-year-old was seeking. 

We had this attitude: “We get the work done.” So if we took extra time at lunch or during the breaks, well, we worked hard to get it done. If that meant during our breaks we added a little vodka to our thermos, well, that was on our time.

To say that we needed to leave our jobs was an understatement. I was the new kid on the block. A couple of those guys had been there for decades. That their off-work coping strategies spilled over into their work time became more and more justifiable, as their spirits withered.

Quit?

It was inconceivable. They had worked a long time and were getting pretty high wages. Even I was getting well over minimum wage. Some had come straight out of high school and had done nothing else. Where else was there to go? Another factory? Start over?

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Later I heard the term “golden handcuffs,” a phrase that encapsulates those high-paying, low-stimulating jobs that people work hard to acquire and are loathe to quit because of the pension plan, benefits, more paid time off and the pay.

Why would you quit such a job?

The fact is the work world rewards its workers for putting in the time. Whether it is pay raises or the freedom promise that comes with a pension plan, there is plenty in our culture to keep us tied to staying in a job.

In the midst of the inner turmoil of an imagined life and how it is really playing out, any glimpse of freedom is a beacon of hope. Vacation time is packed with adventure, or as much as can be mustered given how worn out a person is from the demands of their job. Weekends become a recovery and preparation for the next onslaught.

Or as me and my buddies were demonstrating, sometimes waiting for the weekend isn’t enough.

One of those fellows, a very likable and engaging guy, was a well-managed alcoholic though one might question his ability to contain it. When he talked about electronics, that’s where I saw the spark.

Misplaced

I could imagine, even then when I was young and hadn’t many ideas of what a person could do with their life, that he was somehow misplaced. Like a Star Trek transporter, there was a malfunction that placed him where he did not belong and he had no idea about how to get to the right place.

There was a whole lot keeping him where he was, in that tedious factory job where he was using a fraction of his abilities. The older he got, the longer was his list of responsibilities. Mortgage. Family. Children going to university. All of it was tied to him keeping the wage he was earning. He felt like he had no choices.

And no encouragement to change his circumstances. My comment to him, “Why the hell are you staying here?” I wouldn’t classify as support; it certainly wasn’t the first time he heard that from others and it reinforced an idea that he was incapable of doing something different. And he also felt shitty about why he wasn’t leaving.

According to work studies, 70% of people are not engaged with their work.

When I think of my other co-workers at the factory, I would have said it was a higher percentage.

Everyone was in the same boat.

Which is both compelling and horrifying.  What we have is a cultural norm. Staying in a shitty job. We hardly notice when people complain about their jobs. We commiserate.

The problem feels so big and beyond our ability to solve that we shelve it for future consideration with a dash of hope that along the way something will happen that will eject us out of our limited life into the big life we were meant to live.

But it is all okay because the same thing is happening to our next door neighbour, our co-worker and our friend. We are soothed by the idea that we are not the only ones experiencing a void of meaning in our work lives.

We are part of the herd.

When we stray from the herd, the new territory feels unfamiliar. The people who we used to commiserate with, we suddenly have one less thing in common. Complaining on a Friday night doesn’t have the gusto it did when you were all talking about what you hated. Straying from the herd can be a lonely venture.

That is how I ended up being in a seedy bar at 11 am. With my herd.

Here are the other 2 articles in the series:

Why we stay in jobs we hate: Part 2 - The Comfort Trap

Why we stay in jobs we hate: Part 3 - Self Doubt

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3 Big Ideas When You Are Stuck in a Rut

It’s the end of a long, grey winter. The blue skies erase my memory of rain and the sense of clouds on the top of my head.

Winter is finally making its exit.

There is a reason 2 million Canadians go to Cuba every year. Winter here is harsh. Even in Victoria, the Miami of Canada.

At the end of long dark days, the motivation to go out once I am cuddled warm at home plummets. 

This winter I became keenly aware of how much of my daily life is routines. Maintenance. Taking care of my body, earning money, going and spending that money for things to take care of my body.

Round and round.

In the midst of all of that, I am working with people on finding work that gets them excited to get up in the morning. I wasn’t feeling very lively.

If I was only like my friend Sharon who plans a trip every 4 months so she always has something to inspired her.

If I was only a person who loved routines.

If only….

I was feeling some big disconnect between advocating for a life that matters but the dailyness of my life didn’t feel like it mattered much.

I started asking a question. Mostly to myself. How do I create a sense of excitement and purpose in the midst of having so many repetitive tasks in a given day?

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Step out of the rut

My immediate answer was to change the routines. Change the breakfast menu, open the door with my other hand, take a different route to work.

Here’s my reasoning. What was key was creating some sort of change so I wasn’t on autopilot. 

Have you ever felt like you are going through the motions and not really noticing what is going on? Have you ever looked up after spending time on Facebook and wondering where that hour went?

I am astonished at how quickly we form routines. Have you noticed when attending a two-day workshop that attendees go back to the same seat they chose on the first day? 

There is a lot comforting in the familiar.

The rub is that familiarity is also deadening. 

I see how easily it is to be caught in a job that sucks. It happens while one day is unfolding into another. Rinse and repeat.

We get comfortable with the predictability of tasks. 

To make a change on out of a job that is comfortable requires a good momentum. I see it as what happens when we are on a swing. It takes a lot of energy to get moving. If someone comes along and gives us a good push, that gets things going in towards where we want to be.

Often it is a big event that gets us into the momentum.

It doesn’t have to be that way. We can lead a life of choice. How do you get out of the automatic responses?

The magic of slowing down

February 21, 2018 - Victoria BC

February 21, 2018 - Victoria BC

Some of moving out of autopilot for me was nature grabbing my attention. We had a late snowfall which was such a novelty. I was captivated by how my world had suddenly changed. The snow hugged trees. I had to pay extra attention as I drove (without winter tires).

I was curious too about the cherry blossoms and what they would say if they could talk. (“What the heck?”)

Life slowed down.  Naturally.

While I was noticing the world around me, I started noticing what was happening inside too. The gift of winter is reflection.

I started taking stock of how I was spending my time but more precisely how I wanted to spend my time.

Often when we want to solve a problem such as work that is no longer serving us, we comb the job ads or university programs. We are ready to gallop. When what we need to is slow down.

When all of our senses tell us to get moving, the real answer is in doing the opposite.

Going back to the basics

The clues are all inside of us.

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When I was developing the curriculum for Finding Work That Matters, one of the premises that formed the basis of the program was this question:

What if I paid attention to what makes me feel alive and do more of that? 

To do that, I needed the space and time to listen.

It was imperative that I listen to myself. Not to those voices inside of me that were telling me that I needed to do more.

I needed to listen to what was calling me.

When I started paying attention to what makes me feel alive, I saw immediately why my routines were overwhelming me. I like to start new things. I love playing with ideas. And I love doing that with other people.

I started checking out some new books that had crossed my path that I didn’t think I had time to read. I found some cool Meetups. There are some interesting ideas that I look forward to sharing with you.

Over to you….

What do you do when you find yourself in a rut?

 

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What are the top 10 things I should experience in life?

Taking a Leap: The Challenge of Letting Go

Creativity Matters: it matters more than you might think

Have you ever sat down to write or draw and something more urgent that needs to be done? At this exact moment.

Today when I began writing this blog, I sat down at my computer. Within minutes I was washing dishes. It could have been laundry. Or vacuuming.

It seems I have a particular attraction to distraction.

Facing a blank page or screen or canvas is like looking into the abyss. What am I going to say? What do I have to say?

There is an opposing nudge. My book and fountain pen are never far away and I keep the 2-week schedule for my blog. 

On those days when procrastination retreats, I see the 2 forces inside of me. The push-pull I hear from other writers, often with comedic slants.

One quote whose authorship is disputed says, “I only write when I am inspired. Fortunately it strikes every morning at 9.” 

What I know for sure is creativity is fundamental to being human.

We all have a deep desire to express ourselves, to tap into our wellspring and bring our own uniqueness out into the world.

When people talk about what is most important for them in the workplace, creativity is often in the top 5.

If we aren’t in the professions, we think of creativity as other: artists, designers, writers, stylists, engineers.

Perhaps we might count ourselves in if we looked at what it really means to create.

According to Merriam-Webster, the definition of creative is ”using the ability to make or think of new things.”

One year when my children were small, I decided to hang a plant out of their reach. Though I had the pot, I no longer had the hanger part. What I did have was leftover speaker wire. From my macramé classes I envisioned how I could wrap the wire to form a hitch I could slide over the ceiling hook. I used metal nuts, leftover from another project, to secure the ends of the wires into the pot – they were small enough to be tucked under the pot rim.

The end result was a subtle, sturdy and classy-looking hanger.

When I looked at my prototype, I had a thought – I am an inventor!

Oh, I didn’t really see myself in that way.

In retrospect, I can see I was solving a problem. Using the skills I had acquired and the material I had lying around, I connected the dots to create a useful item. A new thing.

I didn’t think of myself as a creative type. In fact, when I thought of all of the wondrous creations that were crossing my path, I definitely was not putting myself in that category.

Now I wonder how much I restricted myself with the thought that I wasn’t creative. 

What is interesting to me is how the age of technology has helped me rethink about creativity. Though computers have presented many opportunities, I find myself in a whole new realm of problems

Back in the late ‘80s when I worked in publishing, my task was to create a database with 2 purposes: doing mailouts according to Canada Post guidelines and identify subscriptions up for renewal.

What I discovered in the process was:

1. Computers allowed me to do tasks that I hadn’t been able to do easily beforehand.

2. The programs had specific ways of doing things, not necessarily related to what I wanted to do.

I had to figure it out. My work became about solving the problems computers presented.

Not that it was a bad thing. As I solved one problem and moved to the next, I was developing stronger problem solving skills. This also provided a rich environment for new ideas.

This is happening all the time as people go about their dailyness. Developing a system for family activities, especially when 2 schedules merge – for example, a parent driving their child to her soccer game – is vital to keeping life rolling smoothly. 

Would you call that being creative? 

What if we expanded our beliefs about what it means to be creative? How might this change how we look at ourselves?

Creativity matters because it shifts how we look at something. Even ourselves.

If we looked at ourselves in expansive ways, we would be able to own our gifts and talents and see how imperative it is to take them out into the world. We would see how our particular contributions make a difference. We would see how the problems of the world are exacerbated by our self diminishment. 

Creativity is a life changer. And imperative to growth.

How can you make room for more creativity in your life? 

 

Thinking of creativity as the ability to make new things to solve a problem, what have you created?  Please share your stories in the comments below.