My Debbie Downer Post

A lot of really cool things have happened since I last blogged:
Camping trips, road races, parties, mice encounters, hugs from children, conversations with friends, amusing quotes from children ("Your pants smell good!"). And I apologize for not brightening this thing up with stories and pictures of my life from the last few weeks. I will eventually. Promise.

But today, I just feel like poop. And there are too many people I want to tell about it. So here goes.

I got a call from Sr. Cathie last night, the woman I interviewed with for the Rose Haven job. After a very long, hard, but necessary conversation, we kind of came to the conclusion that Rose Haven is not the job for me.

Now she kept saying "Don't take this as rejection." And I understand what she means. In all honesty, after hearing more about the clients they serve and the kind of intensity involved in the work, I don't think that's where I belong next year. This year has been extremely trying at times, and what I need most in a job next year, is something with a little stream of hope woven in. I need some positivity and joy mixed in with the challenges. Not that Rose Haven is full of hopelessness. Quite the opposite, I'm sure. But they deal with a lot of grief and a lot of really heavy things. Things that I am not sure I want to handle. Things that Sr. Cathie thinks maybe I shouldn't handle. At least not fresh off of this already difficult year.

So in one way it's like SWEET! Glad I figured that out before I committed a year of my life to it.

The shitty part? The encounter still made me feel like a total piece of crap.

In a subtle way, Sr. Cathie implied that after two phone interviews (which took place in a very public teacher's lounge and a very public school office at the end of the school day, by the way. Not the most ideal phone interviewing environment.) I sounded "distant" from my kids. It sounded like I "hadn't developed any close relationships with them". And that hurt me. Bad.

She kept saying things like "No one here thinks they are better than anyone else. We become very close to our clients here." And I didn't know what to say. I felt like she was telling me I was vain and incapable of developing meaningful relationships with people who are different from me.

She said she was sure that I was "a very smart girl". But to me, it sounded like "you are cold and uncompassionate."

It's really hard to hear someone's impression of you when they don't really know you. It's hard to hear someone else's take on your life and work, when they don't know what makes you tick. They don't know what your job is like, what kind of opportunities and roadblocks are involved. And it left me scrambling to try to prove something. But I was at a loss. Anything I said came out sounding so pathetic.

I've always prided myself on being personal and compassionate. I've always felt like my relationships with people was like my thing.

And I realize that what was actually said and my emotional reaction to what was said are two different things. But some of that stuff, no matter how gently it came out, was really hard to hear. I mean, you can't show someone the core of who you are in a fucking phone interview. It just doesn't work that way.

But the hardest part, is being back at work today, seeing these kids who I do love, and feeling like someone has just told me it isn't good enough.

I know that wasn't her intention.

And I know that the message behind everything she was saying was completely legitimate. Rose Haven is not the best fit for me. She could see that before I could. She knows what goes on there and she knows what I'm looking for in a job, and she realized that they don't match up. I couldn't have known that without her help. I need something a little more life giving than Rose Haven can offer.

But the hard part is having someone tell you that they don't think you should do something...Especially when you yourself feel you are capable of anything. The hard part is you automatically take that crap as a judgment of character. As a judgment of how you are currently doing. Even though you know you shouldn't.

Suddenly, and for the first time, I feel totally inadequate. And I feel like crying.

By the way. I again have no idea what I'm doing next year. Maybe I'll still be doing JVC in Portland, just at another job. But maybe this was God's way of saying "You can get out now, and do something for yourself. That's what you need right now." We'll find out soon enough.