It's hard to believe the summer has come and gone, and yet I feel like I'm already wishing away September, and the month after that, and the month after that. . . .
August has been rough and I haven't really been in the blog-writing mood. Generally my mind is always thinking, always writing, but not these last thirty-one days. Since my announcement about the new job, I've come up with only one idea for a blog post, and I couldn't even summon the energy to put it together. And then today it was like everything cleared up and I had two ideas, one of which I am writing now, and maybe I'll get to the other two if I get another bout of writer's block.
It's been a summer of "what's next?" With all of our wedding-related trips, Mike and I were constantly in a state of "what's coming up?" We came back from Denver and I didn't even bother to unpack my suitcase (though this really isn't something out of the ordinary), because I knew in four days I was going to be repacking it to go to Dallas. And then I came back from Dallas and I was hit with reality: there were no more "what's next" moments and I had to face the present. And I wasn't particularly ready to do that after spending the previous two work weeks in over my head, working in the office till 9:00 or even 10:00.
So what did I do instead? I thought about what's next anyway, even though there's nothing really planned: where Mike and I could go for our first anniversary (how quickly time flies). I thought about trips Mike and I would like to take next year. I dreamed about being at my grandparent's house in Spain, relaxing on the beach with the family. There was a lot of thinking and picturing and hoping and daydreaming . . . but there wasn't a whole lot of living in the present.
And these past two days I got a healthy dose of the present that made me not so healthy. I realized I am now a month into the new job and I will be expected to start really picking up new responsibilities and understanding how everything works here. I wouldn't say I have a big ego (as Mike accidentally called it last night), but professionally, I do have pretty high self-esteem, and I felt that plummeting this week as I was repeatedly told I was doing things wrong. I have to admit, I'm not really used to hearing those words. At least not as often as I have been. I'm not used to redoing things a second, third, and maybe even a fourth time because of my errors.
The thing is, I wasn't ever told how to do it right, a lot of this has been trial and error. And my new colleagues have been very patient with helping me out so that I can grasp everything and transition between the two publishing houses. While working on the books is the same, there are a lot of details that aren't and that part's been super stressful.
Realizing that I'm starting from the beginning in some areas, and I don't know everything, I became incredibly anxious, probably more anxious than I've ever been. I was worried I was doing everything wrong. That even when I redid something a second or third time, it still wasn't right. I was worried about people thinking I was dumb, about my boss regretting the decision to hire me, about whether I made the right decision to leave Harper.
I spent the last two nights walking down Bleeker Street while crying on the phone with my mom.
I got home and didn't want to talk at all. I picked up some sushi (food therapy, anyone?), watched the Yankees game, and did freelance. I was mentally exhausted. My wonderful husband came home with flowers and gave me a back rub, and he let me cry some more.
And then I woke up this morning and said, "enough."
Both my mom and Mike told me I needed to meet with my boss, that I was possibly stressing out, and making myself anxious, over nothing. The last two days were spent redoing things and getting behind in my own schedule, but today I saw a light at the end of the tunnel and I didn't feel like I was in over my head. I met with my boss to better discuss what was going on and where she wanted me to be. Before I even got to the point of how anxious I had been, she told me I was doing a fantastic job and that she was glad I was here. (So yes, Mike and Mom, you were right, I was getting worked up over nothing.)
It's hard being your own worst critic. And it's hard being a perfectionist. I was so worried about what people were thinking about me, how they felt about my work, that I forgot to trust myself. I know what I'm doing. Maybe not every detail, maybe not every system, but I didn't know them at Harper when I first started, either. I just have to keep reminding myself of that. Reminding myself to ask for help and that's okay.
I'm not saying I'm going to stop dreaming about what's next, but I won't use it as an excuse to deal with what's now. I'm going to need that escape every now and again because I don't think this will be the end of the insecurities. I'm just going to handle them better. Less crying. Less anxiety. Less doubting.
For now, I'm going to get through these next two days, take the long weekend to regroup, and hopefully, come next Tuesday, I can start the work week with a fresh outlook. I'm mentally and physically exhausted, so it's off to bed for now. Where I can dream about all the beaches I want, and that's okay.
Wake me up when September begins.
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