I’ve gotten a contract that will (hopefully!) keep me busy until the end of October. I started a couple days ago and so I’ve been pretty busy with that and with preparing for the house guests coming on Monday.
My title is pretty fancy: Information Management Specialist. If I play this right, it could mean more contracts or even a permanent position.
I’m going to have a glass of wine and toast myself for being gainfully employed again. Who knew it would feel so good?
Our friends have left and I have a couple days of peace before another group arrive next week. The friends that just left are a couple we knew back home who are also posted abroad. The wife gave up a very promising career in HR to follow her husband (who used to be D’s roomate). It was nice being around someone else in my shoes and the two of us had some good conversations. She’s currently doing a diploma in Interior Design and she doesn’t plan to go back into HR. Interior Design is something she’ll be able to do anywhere and it’s perfect for our mobile life.
This has me thinking about things I can do where moving around and gaining experience in different countries will be an asset, rather than a check against me. I have a couple ideas brewing; but they mean completly changing the course of my life. Starting from scratch. Being re-trained. Making less money in the long-run, but having more flexibility.
I’ve run the idea by D, who repeats the same mantra whenever I run things by him: Do whatever makes you happy. I’ve tried to stress that this will mean less income from me when we are back in Canada even though the benefits will be that I’ll always be able to find work abroad and that this particular field will enable me to meet people quickly in any place we go. Again, he says, “If it will make you happy, I don’t care about the money. We can live off my salary alone anyway, so it’s not an issue. The issue is you being happy.”
It’s a bit scary though; giving up everything I’ve worked for in the last six-years. Starting over. I’ve done it so many times you’d think I’d be an old pro at it but it doesn’t make it less terrifying.
Even though I know this new career will be the best thing for me and I’m actually really excited about it – which says a lot – something is holding me back. And that thing is the lack of a wedding ring on my finger. I suppose I feel that if I’m going to change my whole life to be more flexible for his job, that I want to have that commitment from him.
Is that fair? Maybe not. But I’ve realized that it’s my bottom line. Deadline? My birthday, at the end of July.
We’ve had house guests for the last week, which is why I’ve been so quiet. Another round of the Great Wall and the Forbidden City; the Silk Market and the Pearl Market.
While I LOVE having friends visiting (especially friends from home), it’s completly and totally exhausting for me.
And we have another friend coming on Tuesday for a week.
Thank Baby Jesus that we have a trip to Thailand planned at the end of the month, with a stop-over in Paris before coming back to China.
Sometimes life IS good.
This morning I was supposed to go swimming with another spouse (in fact, the only one I know who also doesn’t work and doesn’t have children). I sent her a text message to confirm that we would meet at 10 a.m. in the lobby, and she called me to tell me she couldn’t make it because she was offered a job.
(Just a note that as spouses, we can’t work in the private sector here in China, we can only work at the same place our husbands work because of visa restrictions. As you can imagine, there are lots of spouses competing for the very few (menial) jobs available.)
This particular job was advertised when D and I first arrived and I didn’t apply because it’s so beneath my skill level that it’s laughable. Literally, just filing papers and answering phones. I figured (stupidly) that something better would come along. So, the job was given to someone and that someone recently quit because she’s pregnant (what a surprise!) and so they gave the job to my swimming buddy because I guess she was second on the list (she had applied for it way back when).
The thing is, I don’t want the stupid job because that’s what it is; a stupid job. And yet, this morning when I found out I got so angry that I stomped around the house yelling. Just ranting and raving.
And then I curled up on the sofa and cried for a good hour. Poor puppy didn’t know what was going on so he curled himself around my head and licked the tears off my face.
I wasn’t crying about the job, but about the fact that I’ve been reduced to this person who gets upset about not getting a job I didn’t want in the first place. This person who has to go around begging for little contracts here and there; contacts that are ALL beneath my skill level. Contracts that serve nothing in the long term except keeping my hands busy for a couple days.
As I was rocking back and forth on the sofa, I kept repeating, “This can’t be my life, this can’t be my life.”
It’s the first time that I’ve actually broken down like that since being here.
As D was leaving he asked, “Well, have you contacted the Australians or the Brits? They might have contracts available. You’re not even putting yourself out there.” This was really not the most tactful thing to say given my delicate state. I don’t WANT to have to put myself out there over and over again, only to get passed over a million times before I get a shot at a crappy job that does nothing to enhance my CV or further my skills when I HAVE A PERFECTLY GREAT JOB BACK HOME. And to have to do this OVER and OVER again for the next 20 years.
My self-esteem is delicate enough as it is, and the thought of job-hunting again and again just destroys what little confidence I have in my abilities.
I’m going swimming alone. Maybe some physical activity will clear my head a little.
On Saturday night we went for a friend’s birthday and met a bunch of new people. This is always fun and demoralising; fun because our social group here is a bit small so meeting new people is always welcome, and demoralising because inevitably the question comes up, “So, what do you DO here?” and I have to answer, “I don’t do anything.”
You can imagine the effect this has on my self-esteem.
It has plunged me back into a mini-depression and has got me thinking about my options. What COULD I do here?
Well, I suppose I could study. Except that we’re only here for another 2 years and in that time I’ll be having a baby, which doesn’t leave much room for completing the course of a Masters (and I’ve discovered most Masters programs here are three years long anyway). I’d really hate to start something only to leave it hanging when we leave. I like things neat and tidy.
I suppose I could do more photography, except for the fact that I’m not really inspired to take many pictures in Beijing. It’s flat and grey and apart from places like the Forbidden City, it’s quite boring. And so, yes, I could take more pictures but I’m not inspired by China.
I could write. Yes, there’s always THAT. Writing a real book instead of a blog. The thing is, I have no idea what I would write about. I’ve tried and it just doesn’t work. I sit in front of the lap top and just stare at the screen. I have enough drama going on in my own life that creating a fictional drama seems ridiculous.
I could have a baby. Oh yeah, except D doesn’t want one right now.
I’ve figured out that the only way to stay afloat and not sink into a total depression is not to look at the big picture and to stop thinking about what I’m going to do in a general sense, but to think about what am I going to do TODAY.
And today that’s getting a manicure, going for a tan at the salon, and grabbing a lunch somewhere.
(I suppose there’s always the option of going home as well, I’m just not thinking about that today.)
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