I heard back from one job interview (it's a no go)...for a job that I really wanted..I had a near-perfect interview and left with that same feeling one has after a great first date.
Both parties are being honest, but reserved. Both parties are trying to sell the other on what a great catch they are...without boasting.
I was pretty sure I wouldn't get the job as the report writing was 100% in French, and while on most days I speak more French than English, my business writing needs improvement (I'm currently registered at Mcgill to fix this). I knew this going into the interview...but like the Great One was quoted as saying, You never score on shots you don't take, or something of the like.
I had another interview today with an equally impressive company. The interview was nearly two hours long. I was decked out in my special interview suit, interview hair, interview makeup...ready to go. It was great.
I loved the location. I liked my potential boss and the company structure. I was complimented on my French, my responses, and unless there's something I don't know about or a candidate that they have already chosen, I feel pretty confident. I will be disappointed if I don't get a call back for this job...while keeping in mind that in this world...the job seeking world...if I don't get a call back, it's for the best.
After my interview came more a serious phone call with my financial advisor, discussing different worst-case scenarios and what my best options are if my sabbatical is longer than a month or two.
For whatever reason, talking about money and fiscal years started thoughts about how January 1, 2015 began....and the differences of almost one year later.
Essentially....and this is the only way I know how to describe it...for months, I was in a delusional state of what my life actually was. I was taking a pile of shit, plopping it into a into a 9 inch circular pan, baking it at 375 degrees for 20-25 minutes, and trying to pass it off as chocolate cake. (Sorry if you're currently eating chocolate cake).
December 31st 2014, I nearly stayed home alone instead of celebrating with my ex's family because of a very big argument we had...which probably should have been a breakup...but I was too busy baking shit pie. Clinging on to that shit cake.
Months past. I bought a vitamin D lamp to help with my energy. But the schedule of commuting just shy of 4 hours per day, trying to eat healthy, working out 30 minutes a day, walking the dog, preparing for the next day for six weeks solo....was exhausting. Then for two weeks, I had my exhausted ex home to help me with some household stuff, combined with the light and fun energy of the girls, while serving my shit cake that everything was ok. Then it was back to solo life again. It also was becoming more and more obvious that my job was not the right one for me, but I was in no state to make any changes.
Then spring arrived. The best thing my ex could have done was to end our shit cake. And he did. We both wanted different things, a different way of life, and everything that we planned and agreed to after getting back together hadn't materialized.
While the divorce process has knocked the wind out of me several times, while I've been shocked by both of our behaviours, while my heart was broken, while I've had to move and unpack again and again...moving most my stuff in my little civic with little help...I finally got to come to terms with reality...and quit trying to serve and/or eat my shit pie. This has been freeing and beneficial to my physical and mental health. After all, eating shit cake, is good for no one.
Since May ...I've had more non-divorce related tragedies, obstacles, inconveniences, and...hurdles..but I have to say...I've pretty much kicked ass.
I haven't done it by myself. I haven't been perfect. I've had a lot of support. I've had a lot of bad days. Bad weeks. I'm still trying to find my way. Trying to figure out how to spend weekends alone. Figure out how to make friends. But as I sat across the table from my interviewer today...I realized...I'm not selling him shit pie...or shit cake...
I'm giving him a very competent, intelligent, highly qualified professional...that totally kicks ass when given the chance.
And when I think about my life...my little place in Montreal...with the ex-family dog... so far from perfect...it's so far from stable...it's a weird state as I have little desire to move to Alberta... but on paper...there is very little keeping me in Quebec...but I dare say that I like it.
There's lots not to like and there are lots of changes to be made before I can be truly happy...but instead of pretending that I am...instead of serving shit cake, I just take things as they come....crying a lot when I'm overwhelmed but being ok with that...and for the most part...knowing that things will get figured out in time. Without eating any foul tasting cake. And being very, very grateful for it.