UYW4 – God dammit, RuPaul was right!

After last weeks utter chaos, I’m glad to note that this week has been a lot quieter, more peaceful and thankfully a heck of a lot more loving.

I was sick for a couple of days though, finally got taken down by the dreaded lurgy that was apparently plaguing all my Derby friends. This meant I had to take things easy, take a day off from my Ultimate practice and laze on the sofa watching The Real Housewives of Atlanta.

Even though this rest was necessary and very much needed, I found myself struggling to let myself be. Even though I am a complete TV addict, I can’t sit in the same spot for more than an hour. Seriously, ask Alex, I am the literal living metaphor of ‘ants in your pants’. I get so irritable if I’m in the house longer than one day. So grumpy and irascible that everyone outside has a purpose, and my only purpose at this point in time is to read more Mark Haddon.

I think that has been the biggest problem for me being unemployed. A lack of ‘real’ purpose. The guilt that comes with writing all day, painting and learning how to use InDesign, when really I should be out there, sweating my bollocks off and working any job even if I hate it.

 

Let me explain this further.

 

I’ve managed to get three interviews next week (WOOOOOOO), all in completely different sectors, all of which I could do well. The first is an exam invigilator, the second being a brand ambassador for a charity, and the third  is a scriptwriter for radio. Obviously, given my love of writing I would love to do the last, but each of the others have their benefits. The first would mean I get to stay in Lincoln, a place I am growing to love, with lots of time in between exams to write, to see family and not be exhausted. The charity job means I could travel around, talk to people and slowly get better from the lingering miasma of shyness that has been encircling my body these past few months. The scriptwriting, well, that’s just a bit dribbly, but I would have a round commute of 2 hours every day.

Each of these jobs would give me a ‘real’ purpose, a reason for me being on this earth. Old Grace would be shooting straight for the hardest position, the scriptwriting, because it’s the furthest away, the one that will test me the most and the one that will incite the most change and chaos into my life. I’m a bit of a weird masochist. The New Grace however isn’t counting out the others just yet.

The pressure I am under to get a ‘real, proper job’ is huge. Not particularly from my family (they let that dream fizzle out a long time ago), but from certain friends and other outside influences. It seems to me that in today’s world if you aren’t pushing yourself to the point of snapping, you aren’t working hard enough. If you aren’t dying when you come home every night from work, then you aren’t working hard enough. If you aren’t slurping two bottles of wine over the weekend just to wind down from your hectic life, then you aren’t working hard enough.
Personally I think all of the above is utter horse shit.

Don’t get it twisted, I LOVE hard work. I love having to sit for hours on end working on solutions, I did English at Uni and spent hours researching essays on Baudrillard’s theory on simulacra; it’s basically my wet dream. Saying this, I will not compromise my actual life for something that won’t benefit me as a person holistically. All because it’s what I should be doing right now, now doesn’t qualify as enough of a reason to do it.

I am beginning to realise my worth, not only as a woman, but just as a person. I have a lot to offer any company, and  rather than taking on positions because I feel flattered that they even looked at me, I’m starting to realise that actually, they want me because I’m bloody good. So, instead of getting down about rejections, I’m spurred on by the acceptances. Instead of letting myself be defined by a facety look, I’m the girl who wants to wear socks and a skirt in March. Instead of constantly apologising for who I am, I’m going to rejoice in the fact that yes, I can be VERY ditzy and floopy, but if you give me 15 minutes and an idea I’m going to produce a story board you’re probably going to love.

Just from taking a couple of days to love myself, I’ve realised that the intrinsic, crushing guilt all the female members of my family, nay my contemporaries in society, suffer from is completely wrong. Alex tells me all the time, “Don’t feel like you ever have to explain something that you want to do,” and he’s so right.

So the next time somebody, anybody, gives you beef about getting up at 3pm, or about the weird shoes you like, or the fact that you want to wile out to Justin Bieber on your own, just smile, and say back “Because I am being myself.” Guaranteed they aren’t going to understand, but that doesn’t matter. Life isn’t about them, it’s about you.

 

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