The BV “I love you, you’re hilarious” fluffy kerfuffle is a very pleasant distraction from the very real shit I am dealing with at the moment:

    • the impact of sustained crushing poverty
    • food insecurity coupled with an eating disorder, as I simultaneously try to starve and not starve
    • accepting that someone I’ve loved forever has been a complete and utter waste of my time (LP)
    • the single-minded pursuit of a new job and all of the anxiety and fear that goes along with that
    • the knowledge that the job and new contract I was promised two months ago by BP will never ever materialize and I have wasted TWO MONTHS when I could have been productively working

I am hearing the drumbeat of failure, and trying to ignore it.

I note that I am not getting invitations from my family of friends because they know I cannot afford to join them.  I have to make daily choices and decisions that I find — at best — humiliating.  My family is not speaking to me.  I am obsessed with the idea that I’ve not had health insurance for long enough I am actually dying.

Every minute of every day, I have to overcome all of that shit to get out of bed, think positive thoughts, and present my best face to the world.

I am actively engaged in a job hunt — and I found a position I want, which I am now doggedly pursuing, once I can finish refining my resume.  I sent the posting out to BFD — who was enthusiastic and supportive — RA — same — FM — same — W and JerkFace — confused.

It occurred to me then that W and JerkFace, who I have known for more than 15 years, have no idea what I actually do professionally.  I got W his job at my big fancy law firm without an interview because I invited him to lunch with the lawyers in his specialty at least every month for years.  I left for my new non-legal career the Friday before he started.

Years later, JerkFace got fired for his job for failing to report he’d been arrested for drunk driving.  I hired him to work for me, which enabled him to transition back to the amazingly kick-ass job he has now.

And yet, they have no idea what I do.

I have had a hard time explaining what I do, until I saw this job listing, which spelled it all out perfectly . . . including a title.

So, now, I have excitement and hope.

I reached out to everyone important in my life and I am crowdsourcing my resume review.

It is, to be sure, HIGHLY UNLIKELY that I will get this job for which I am perfectly suited.  I have appallingly bad credit at the moment.  I have a story I’ve not had to explain in a while — living on the promise of potential income while my savings and life frittered away to nothingness.  I have made some disastrously bad choices . . . which, refracted, make me look like a completely horrible, incompetent person.  Perhaps, reflected, they look that way as well.

I am suffering a crisis of confidence at the time when I most need to project strength and polish.

What I do for a job — high-level executive management in an industry that is highly competitive and strangely secretive.  I cannot actually tell you — or them — who I work with or what I have done.  I have no demonstrables because if I did my job well, I just connected the dots, made the introductions and stepped out of the way to such an extent you think everything I whispered to you and to them was your idea.

I am inspiration.

I am your muse.

I do not otherwise exist.

When it has gone poorly, and sometimes it has, and often for reasons unrelated to me [BP is an asshole], then I am your scapegoat.  Well, if only the Planner hadn’t done this, it would have happened.

No, your plan was bad because your plan was bad.  I can’t change facts or history.  I can present them better.  If you still fail, it’s because YOU still fail.

There are a lot of people who wish me ill.  Frankly, none of them work in this town in which I live.  The people with whom I work live hours away or time zones away.  Our clients are sometimes in different countries or on different continents.

I cannot give real references.

I need a chance.

I rarely ask for help, so I am hopeful that now — when I am asking these super-important friends of mine to put themselves out for me — they will help me.

I think that they will.  BFD laughed that my network is better than his for this gig.

It is.

I actually know two people who are executives who funded the company to which I am applying.

I am not sure that helps.

It certainly doesn’t hurt.

I see PR tonight at a show and I will be asking his help, too.

I know I need someone to take a chance on me.  I have the resume and credentials.  As RA reminded me last night when we had drinks with PR, JR at the CHB, I am someone for whom you create a job, not someone who applies for one.

And yet . . . I am applying for a job for the first time in 14 years, and even that job heavily recruited me as I sat in my big fancy law firm office.  I would not have applied had I not been recruited.  I was.  It was a life-changing experience.

And now, I am up early, delaying the dog-walk, so I can ponder my navel, kick my own ass, and get myself jump-started.

I am confident in who I am and what I can do, given a chance.

I am confident that when I tell people in my network that I am looking, I will get interviews.  I am not entirely confident I will get jobs.

For what ever reason, people still admire and respect me.

I have great friends who love and trust me.

I know I am a good person, with just enough situational ethics and flexible morality to make me a fun person. 😉  Rather, to make me someone who does what must be done to get things done.

You want me on your team.  Just ignore the baggage surrounding me.