I wish I could day that the new year is off to a flyingly exciting start, but it feels like I’m just going through the motions.
No pay rise, and no prospects at my job. Yes, I know I’m still lucky to have what I have. I know that I’m still learning lots. But even other people at the company have said that what I was offered is an insult. It’s hard not to take it that way. It’s hard not to be hurt by it.
In another sense, it’s a wake-up call. How many extra hours have I given this company over the past year? How much spare time and commitment. And for what? A paltry pay rise? An environment which saps my confidence and feelings of self-worth?
Almost everyone else I know is plotting their escape. And now I know why. I’d hoped this company was somewhere that nurtured talented people, that invested in them. Not who cheated them for all they were worth and hung them out to dry.
In truth, I don’t know what I feel. I’m disappointed and angry, but I don’t want to leave yet. Do I? When your work life feels like a set of tests you’re being set up to fail, how much longer can one endure it?
I meditated long this morning in an attempt to rid myself of the clinging demon of my anger. In some respects it worked, I went about my day calm and clear. But I realised I was going about my tasks with no enthusiasm. I was doing them to be doing them. It’s not just the money, although that is part of it, it’s me. Sometimes I look at my life in London and wonder what it is I’m doing. Why and for who. Why do I work in social media? Where is it I want to take this? Silently I feel myself shaken to my core. I don’t think I can answer those questions.
Part of me wishes with longing that my life were simpler. That my job was, somehow, to just sit down and write each day. Stories, scripts, articles. Whatever. I wish I had no need for teams and spreadsheets, meetings and analytics. I just want my own little space and my imagination. And, somehow, to be good enough to be successful with that.
I mean, who doesn’t want to be a writer these days. Everyone is. Everyone wants to be. All I know is that when I’m lost in my stories and imaginations, that’s where I’m happiest. Just before Christmas, my anxiety and stress levels reached such a point that I simply had to come home, stick on something fantasy or sci-fi related, and escape into another world.
I think this one is simply too hard sometimes.