Many of the posts I write for this blog focus on my unhappiness, bad luck, dislike for social media (at times) and general lack of self esteem. Pretty morbid I know. But as I’m not a diary writer, I use this as an outlet for all my thoughts and fears. I should really be more private, but since the birth of this blog I have received such wonderful feedback and advice, reading all your comments is my new ‘girl talk’ fix and it’s cheaper than Cosmopolitan.
I guess what I want to focus on in this post is a trait that I have recently recognised in myself. It’s up there with my hormonal mood swings, constant appetite and overbearing opinions, as one of my worse attributes. As many of you already know, I suffer from career jealously. I occasionally suffer from body jealously too when I stalk Kendall Jenner on Instagram, but in terms of family, friends and boyfriend I personally think I’m a winner. So really, it’s only other people’s career highs that cast an almighty shadow of jealously over me from time to time.
I’m a big thinker, probably because I spend the majority of my life sitting on trains, and I’m also very pragmatic. Therefore I am constantly trying to pinpoint the route of my unhappiness that creeps in now and again and find a way to solve it. I think my issue is me, not everyone else. And that’s because deep down I am so incredibly proud of all my friends and family who have nailed down their dream career. It’s myself I get upset with when other people get promoted or sail through an interview. I ask myself, why isn’t that me, but then I continue watching Harry Potter and realise that I can’t sail through life expecting life to throw me great opportunities. This in when I realise, oh shit I’m one of those self-entitled arseholes. I think, just because I got good A-Levels, graduated with a BA and PGD, worked for free for months AND am simply a nice person that I should get the career I want. I can proudly say that I do work really really hard. But when has anything ever come to me without exhaustingly long hard work. My A-Levels took me 2 years of hard work to achieve, university took 3, well 2 if you cancel out the first year of drinking and partying all the time, and my driving… Well it took me 6 years of lessons and 5 tests. So perhaps I need to recognise that my life challenges me, it always has. For some reason my life has always ensured I work that extra bit harder, for that little bit longer. I’m actually kind of getting somewhere in my career, I work in communications in a charity I write for the metro.co.uk and I’m writing a book. I just want more, all the time. And I want more now. I want my book on the shelves of Waterstones and a permanent job that pays well. But like everything else, it’s going to take a lot more hard work from me and a little bit longer than everyone else.
I had a bit of a career u-turn last week and I survived. Six months ago I would have been in a pit of self-loathing for a week and cried for days because of that rejection. But this time, I just picked myself up and started again. This entitlement I have is something that I am slowly trying to get over. I’ve had 9 interviews now for various jobs I wanted, non of them wanted me. But looking back over the last few months I’m so glad it happened. I am actually genuinely pleased I didn’t get that first job I interviewed for at the beautiful magazine I loved. The rejection has made me a better, stronger and more determined person. I will probably get 100s of rejection letters from publishers when I try to get a book deal, but so did JK Rowling, and look at her. I know that everything is going to be okay. My friends may be doing better than me, but good for them! I’ll get there too, I’m just taking longer to get there and trying to enjoy the view as I go.