I don’t think I
realized how deep I’ve been in depression ever since I learned last September
that I’d be laid off in May. But the weight of that black dog must have been
part of what prevented me from really scrambling to find another position in
the Megalithic Software Company. Because I couldn’t bring myself to find the
energy to care about the place.
Four years ago,
when I was applying for the job that eventually led to MSC, I was
uncharacteristically focused on and determined to be hired for that
position in that company. I networked shamelessly; I researched like a
boss; I bought a skirt for the in-person interview. I did everything except
supply 8 x 10 color glossy pictures with circles and arrows and a paragraph on
the back of each one explaining what each one was.
Because I was
playing to win, and doing that work was winning.
Somehow in the
past nine months, I’ve lost the vision of what “winning” is for me. It was so
crystalline back then, and I had all the energy of an F-14’s thrusters to make
it happen. And confidence; whoa! But now…
To give you an
idea, somehow on the train between Lyon and Arles on my trip to France last
year, the lens cap on my
camera jammed into the UV filter, shattering it completely. I took it out
to shoot and little shards of glass fell out onto the street. It was impossible
for me to replace it—there was no camera shop in Arles, and the store they
directed me to in Avignon didn’t have the size I needed. I won’t shoot without
protection over the lens (which cost at least a house payment-and-a-half), so for
the rest of the trip I just used my mobile phone to take photos.
Since
mid-November, the Nikon has sat on a shelf, waiting for me to haul my ass out
to the camera shop to get a new filter. (Yes, I could order one online, but I
wanted professionals to look over the lens for scratches and clean it up before
putting on the filter.) Since November (with the exception of a few meals with a friend, medical appointments and going to the office until mid-May), my only outings have involved Wegmans, Costco and the public library. I just couldn't move.
Until last week
when my job search accountability partner said she would be in Arlington on our
meeting day and could come out to the People’s Republic and then we could go to
the camera store. Well, okay. Finally.
We also
discussed our career goals and next steps, and I confessed that I just don’t
know what my goals are and how am I meant to get somewhere if I don’t know
where it is? Do I really want to stay in tech? If so, what flavor? Do I jump on
the AI bandwagon? If so, what do I do and how do I position myself? Do I stay
in cyber security? If so, how do I dodge the assholes?
If I leave tech,
where do I go? And what do I do?
And why does
none of it excite me or inspire me or charge me up?
You see my
problem? I’ve been poking at this stew on the back of the stove for at least
three months and got nowhere. Because it’s all blah.
And then she mentioned
writing—people need good writing, she said. That’s what I can do.
Well, yes—people
do, in fact, need good writing, but it’s been my observation over the decades
that everyone thinks they can write, so they see no need to pay someone to do
that job. And now that ChatGPT and its ilk are out there, they just double down
on it, because AI, man! It’s intelligence! And it’s cheap!
But I’ve been
walking around this notion for the past few days, trying it on, taking it off,
looking at the seams, feeling the texture. Is this the next pivot for me? Going
back to my roots of writing? And if so, where? For whom? And for what purpose?
Is that what
winning looks like now?
Well, I dunno
yet. But yesterday I took out the Nikon to get some shots of the sacred lotus
next door. After nine months, it felt good to have it in my hands. I stopped
along the way to practice on a hydrangea and wouldn’t you know—it’s been so
long since I’ve used a real camera that I forgot to check the battery! If that’s
not a metaphor for my life, I do not know what one is.
So I had to walk
back home, swap batteries and then go back out.
It was worth it.
(Apparently you can catch large-mouth bass in that pond.)
And that’s what
I’m grateful for today: a different perspective on winning, a reminder to keep
my batteries charged and the feel of shooting photos with a real camera. The depression is not lifted, but I may be able to see beyond it.
