It's been about two months since I left the public service, and I've barely taken the time to record what it has been like. It's been a very interesting time. As uncertainty has grown, so has my confidence. It took a while to figure out why.
What have I been up to? It turns out I am task driven, and that has followed me right in to my new life. I'm incorporating the principles of Getting Things Done (C) (GTD), and making myself a model office. My first job was to send out feelers to every employer and company I've wanted to work for. Then I took a week's break in Banff with hubby, not knowing if I would have any calls waiting for me when I got back. I became a member of ARMA, after I realized that my work relationships just won't "happen" any more. The local records folk have been unfailingly welcoming and supportive.
I signed up for classes I've always wanted to take. You are now looking at a certified instructor for NAIT. I've taken a series of workshops at BusinessLink. I'm following wherever my nose leads, and I am writing.
AND I've become more active in my community, on the boards for the Clareview Crime Council and Clareview Youth, and volunteering to instruct art to a gaggle of lively children through ArtStart. I am also more physically active, signing up for Live Better Every Day (Stanford) and the local health club.
As for job prospects, there have been very few. Mine is a specialty field with a defined industry. This can be both good and bad. My expertise can be afforded in large companies such as government, petroleum, educational, health, and financial institutions. I've concluded that I may have to sell myself as a consultant. The prospect of short-term projects, with no certainty where the next job comes from, is more and more attractive. It affords me the flexibility and variety I've craved. When presenting myself to prospects, their positive reactions confirms that I am an established expert in my field, with real solutions to offer.
I am reminded of the reflections of a farmer's wife, whose husband grew Timothy for the Japanese market. The quality of the grain and their consequent prosperity was utterly dependent on the weather. They needed rain to make it grow, and then they needed the rain to stop for the crop to mature. My friend the wife talked about faith, and how her prayers used to tumble from hope through despair depending on the depth of cloud in the sky (reminds me of the despair of lottery and bingo players). Then she had a revelation that faith is the confidence that all would work out, regardless of the weather. She found a new calm.
