Thank You Work Challenges
A break up letter I couldn’t write until now
I’ve recently begun pursuing creative writing again and in some roundabout, traumatising way I have some crummy experiences to thank.
It began with the desperate need for a career or job change — a desire for a slower pace to start activating self-care and to plan a much healthier work-life balance.
As I wrote this first draft I was sitting on my exercise bike in the kitchen, overseeing the cooking and running different writing ideas through my head. Needless to say dinner started to burn, my butt hurt from an awkward sitting position, and a sentence I was writing made little sense.
So scrap the attempt at multitasking and overloading myself. See that’s my thing. I’m a ‘yesser’. I struggle to say ‘no’ or to tackle one thing at a time, especially if I’m really passionate about an idea, a cause, or on a mission.
Now I didn’t switch careers or jobs to pursue writing — oh no. I went from working in Aboriginal sexual health to youth mental health. Both roles dabble a little in the creative or content writing space, but both jobs deal predominantly in community development and education harm minimisation.
In the sexual health role I did a lot of project management, which involved sharing sexual and reproductive health knowledge to young Aboriginal women. I was so passionate about this work, which ultimately left me burnt out and quite frankly pissed off at our country’s failures to make amends for the messed up things they intentionally did and still do to the local communities.
Not only was I professionally responsible for the work I did and who I represented, I was also culturally and personally responsible to those who I worked with in the local communities.
I’m a Dharug girl by birth and my Dad’s family come originally from Beaudesert, where the Mununjali people have lived in Queensland for thousands of years. It’s a complex situation where a displacement to culture and Country niggles at me, and is something I’m forever rectifying as a part of my identity formation. A job like this comes with added layers. It wasn’t going to easily be just a 9–5 gig only.
Additionally working for a non-Aboriginal charity felt like walking a tight rope with white policy/hierarchical systems/Euro-cultural understandings on one side and Aboriginal cultural understandings/strengths-based relationships/egalitarian kinship on the other.
One health worker put it perfectly and said — ‘White policy doesn’t suit Aboriginal reality’.
There’s not even a ‘but’ or ‘if’ in there.
I was in this awkward position where it felt like I was box ticking, not providing meaningful work, and scurrying around to meet KPIs and deadlines at whatever cost to our relationships with communities. At times I felt what I was doing was spot on and a natural progression of relationship building.
But mostly it left me feeling like a full blown sell out. I was constantly questioning my identity, my purpose and my role in all this how to make Aboriginal Australia better. Actually — no. How can we make non-Aboriginal Australia better, more inclusive and understanding of this country’s shocking history? I’ve heard I’m not the only one of my generation who faces this internal dilemma, particularly those who work in the community services sector.
My role as an Aboriginal person in this field became one of unintentional tokenism. Anything “Aboriginal” was handed to me and I began looking over things I guess as a convenient option to meet our goals, even if it meant providing feedback on something I wasn’t an expert in or had much knowledge of.
Sometimes conversations with others would go something like this – ‘Oh there’s this really amazing service ‘such and such’ in <insert suburb I’ve never been>, have you heard of them?’. As if all Aboriginal people know everything Aboriginal specific. Per-lease, thanks to institutional racism I don’t even know how to speak the local language…yet! There’s a need in this country for on-going, adequate cultural competency training within institutional structures.
What made this experience even more difficult to swallow at times was the fact that very few people knew the amount of pressure I was dealing with. It was also just plainly accepted that “doing it tough” or “pushing through” was a normal part of being in the workforce.
I began to question this reality, something I thought about whilst travelling to the Inner West Sydney most days of the working week, spending 20 hours in transit.
I had brought to my supervisor’s attention that I didn’t think I could continue to sustain five 14-hour days a week and negotiated to work from the North Coast office one-two days of the week on a trial basis. Which always baffled me because I tended to get more work done in the less busy North Coast office, plus it was closer to home so I was less tired. Apart from my physical presence there was no difference, the workplaces offered the same access to my workload and tasks.
Needless to say, even with that change I was still feeling torn. By this time there were some improvements, and I tried to force it but I couldn’t foresee myself staying, even after 10 years of service.
For myself it began to feel like I was working within a neo-liberal business model and that’s not unusual in this day and age (see University I did remember something), and I just couldn’t align my own ethos with something like this. I was already receiving invitations to apply for other jobs and had another organisation encouraging me to apply for a position. With this slight confidence boost I had to take a risk to change up my situation.
Change it before I completely lost my shit and burnt those work bridges to ashes.
Rewinding it back a little, so by the time our project deadlines were due we had met our targets.
Every. Single. F*cking. KPI.
And I was told that this was the first time my department had achieved this since they received funding to deliver Aboriginal specific projects. I was gobsmacked. I never knew the history of the complexities of working on these projects. I truly believed that if we didn’t meet these targets it would be a huge failure with consequences to our funding. In some way I felt played. But in all honesty I know I was a big part of putting that pressure on myself.
But it’s a pat on the back moment? Sure it was. But I still had a sour taste in my mouth. I was done. I was spent. All the grinding, travelling, financial and emotional strain had literally swept me up in an ocean of high crests and then very low barrels of confidence. I was picked up and spat out like a washed up shipwreck.
The sleepless nights, the long days, the constant time monitoring, the loss of self-worth were quite frankly…not worth the job itself, and it meant deciding to leave behind some really great friends.
But more importantly, I was a different person, someone I didn’t recognise anymore and it had me questioning everything. I became this self-loathing, mean, and overly negative monster. No not a monster. A creature. A joy-sucking creature stealing the fun out of my own life. I began turning down social events, spoke to my friends less and less, and certainly didn’t have time to write. And not because I didn’t want to or need to, I was just exhausted…and watched way too much Netflix to relax my anxieties.
Did I have the guts to fully bring these issues up? No.
Should I have? Yes!
Did I lack the confidence and support to speak up fully? Sure did.
But did I learn from this hellish experience? Hell yeah!
No workplace is perfect and my expectations were high. I’m of that generation that wants to get in and do the best they can and seeks perfection in everything they do. I was bound to hit a wall at some point.
Buuutttt, because of my situation I now know what my limits are within myself and what I’m willing to cop (or not). I know that self-care and making time for fun is something I need to consciously activate.
I have more courage now to say ‘whoa person in charge, I am not okay with <insert outlandish workplace request> and here’s why <insert fair and reasonable explanation>’.
A lot of working gigs take advantage of the young and efficient “go getter” types, those wanting to make their mark and make an actual difference, whilst the “cruisers” just wade on by in their comfy blow up unicorn. I need my unicorn floaty time too!
I’ve realised too that I need to be okay with making changes. If something stops feeling right then I have to accept that it’s okay to reassess. It is in no way a failure. If you haven’t reached that goal or finish line or you don’t want to continue something you’re not into anymore, it’s not losing.
It’s normal to change lanes, or switch cars, find another track or main event altogether. So many car racing metaphors — I don’t even like car racing.
When I was feeling pretty bummed about my career prospects I applied to do an online English teaching degree. It provided a beacon of light at the end of a very murky tunnel. I started it the year I transitioned to my new job and during that time I completed 3 units. I was working part time, studying part time and attempting to exercise and eat healthy. My creative writing was an afterthought…again.
Then the most cliché follow your dreams moment happened.
I was in the shower literally contemplating life and asking myself what I truly wanted to do. And of course I pictured myself at my laptop typing away, making sh*t up. Whilst washing my hair I was trying to figure out how I was going to schedule my writing in, having a Rick Sanchez-like rant, doing the calculations, querying myself and...
Then it clicked. Or rather popped like a pleasant soapsud to the head.
“Put writing first dummy!”
And that’s what I began to do. I deferred university, and then later “resigned” from it altogether deciding to pursue writing instead. I also promised myself and within budget to work locally and no more than 28–30 hours a week, but am comfortable in my current job. I have set myself tasks and goals to continue working on my writing skills and ideas through practicing, courses and networking.
I know those things aren’t possible for everyone but it’s what works for me at the moment, and I’m truly the happiest I’ve being in a long time.
So in a strange way I actually owe those previous job “challenges” a sly thank you.
