Tag: Motivation

I’ve Never Been a Slytherin

July 20, 2018 / KKRegan / 0 Comments

Slytherins are known to be incredibly ambitious, and that traditionally hasn’t been a big problem of mine

Seven years ago, I would have laughed at you if you told me I’d climb mountains like these, and like it.

This is not me.
(Photo taken from PotterWiki)

My whole life I’ve been content not to reach. I have been content to phone it in. I never aspired to be an astronaut or an author or even a doctor or lawyer. I aspired to have a damn savings account. Maybe it’s because I was scared of failing. Maybe it’s because as a female I was hardwired to NOT shoot for the stars. Maybe it’s because I just didn’t want to work that hard. It’s definitely partially because growing up, we always lived paycheck-to-paycheck and I just didn’t want that to be my life. Above all, I wanted security.

Don’t get me wrong, I may not have been terribly ambitious, but I’ve always been crazy idealistic. I grew up before the recession when you could be anything you wanted to be… as long as you had a college degree. That piece of paper was the key to every professional open door. In fact, I landed a great, normal job soon after graduation. I enjoyed it, there was a future in it, I did well at it; but then three years in the recession hit and like so many others, I found myself laid off. Instead of doubling back and getting another job in that field, as I probably should have, I zoomed off to Spain to teach English. I was free from my cubicle! I was going to live my life! Who needs the job title and 401k when you have travel?

According to this girl, derailing my potential career for Spain was worth it

Admittedly, I was also blissfully unaware of what it was like to hunt for a job in a difficult market. I had gotten my last job mostly because of a zippy cover letter.

For a long time, I thought I was broken, that there was no fixing me. How do you rewire someone who is in their 30s and has always done things the same way? Seemed like… well, frankly it seemed like too much work.

Something special is starting to happen, though. I’m starting to retrain myself. If I think of something funny, I write that shit down. If I wake up at 6am and accidentally read an article that gets me going, I ignore the sensible voice that says, “Go the hell back to sleep, asshole,” and I start writing. This is kind of magical. A lot of what has been happening in the past few months is magical. And I’m gonna run with it.

Damn right I was

I think what has happened for the majority of my adult life was that I was so scared to try and fail at something monumental, that I’ve failed at the regular… regularly. Now, my only chance is to try to fail at something spectacular. At best, I J.K. Rowling the shit outta this. At worst, I fail hard and end up right back where I was. If I land somewhere in the middle, I have some great times and I build up a portfolio so maybe people have a reason to hire me for regular jobs.

Another problem I run into is that I’m a bit impetuous. Impatient. This is one of the reasons I couldn’t be an architect (though I thought about it), or a photographer. I don’t thrive on precision (in creating, in editing I can be super precise). My favorite art mediums are charcoal and pencil because they are always malleable. Luckily, writing is similarly malleable, if you have the time.

Just recently, I’m pretty sure I lightly annoyed a friend while playing mini golf because I wouldn’t take the appropriate time to set up my shots, thus leading to me being way over par. This is probably something I will need to work on, as much success involves precision, patience, and a finished product. But, for now, this is me.

I mapped out my hours

Since being away, I have gotten much, much, much better about writing every day, and capturing thoughts as they flit by. I’ve made a schedule, and while I don’t record my times and follow it to the minute, just knowing how I need to parse out my time has helped immensely.

It’s scary aiming for ambitions that were previously thought to be out of reach. It’s even scarier to re-train myself to depart from what I’ve always been taught leads to success and head toward what could lead me, in particular, to success. It’s like breaking and re-setting bones. Bones that, hopefully, I will soon be running on.

Impostor Syndrome is my Boyfriend

July 3, 2018 / KKRegan / 8 Comments

…but the kind of boyfriend that won’t leave you alone, is scared of your success, and gaslights you all the time.

I feel ya, Boo

We all have our demons, our imperfections, the things we can’t hide from. I think of those comics about depression with the cloud, or the dark blob, or whatever it is consistently hulking over the protagonist. Even in times of mirth, it lurks in the corner. I am fortunate enough to only suffer from situational depression, so that is not my reality. But, I have my own hulking cloud(s).

Like this, but different (click for more)

Impostor Syndrome has been getting in my way for the majority of my life, though I only learned the name for it a few years ago. As we all know, there is comfort in knowing you’re not alone in something, in putting a name to it.

In order to do what I need to do (truly attempt to succeed, for those not keeping up), I need to chase away Impostor Syndrome. In order to do that, I am going to have to become self-indulgent (or more so than I already am). I have to self-promote. This makes me VERY uncomfortable. Who am I to think I am funny, or clever, or that I can create something of value? What if I promote something and it’s not as good as I think it is? What if I make no one laugh? Or think? Death.

Look guys, I apologize in advance if I’m not funny, or if what I have to say is trite, or if I can’t write. It’s okay if you think so. It’s okay if you roll your eyes every time you see a post from me. Just, please, keep it to yourself. Hide my feed, whatever you need to do (unless MAYBE what you have to say is incredibly constructive, then, I am interested). This is important because no matter what, I have to start ACTING like I believe that the shit I’m producing is worthwhile to someone, regardless of whether or not it actually is. Fake it ‘til you make it, right? If I keep believing and pretending, then it’s bound to eventually become true, right? RIGHT?

I have this subset of people in my life: a collection of friends, and family, and family friends who are really excellent cheerleaders. People who believe that I have talent, that I do good work, that I have great successes ahead of me. These people are beyond valuable. Whether they truly see something special or are just heavily biased by knowing me, I don’t care. These are the voices I need to listen to at this moment in my life. These are the voices I need to cling to, to try to drown out the voices of self-doubt that come with being an experiencer of Impostor Syndrome… and, to a degree, human.

A brief flare-up

Last week, I made my public Instagram and Facebook page. At first, after I created the Insta I was feeling great, productive. Yea, I did a thing! But as the day wore on, I started feeling a bit anxious and doubtful. This ramped up considerably after I “shared” these with my network of friends. Who am I to think anyone’s interested? My writing is probably super mediocre and my photo-taking skills are lazy at best and certainly leave something to be desired.

Why does something like this, that should make me feel good, bring me down? I’m counting “likes,” and “follows,” taking each one that is missing personally. People are bored of my shit, they don’t want to read it or see it. I’ll never make it anywhere as long as I’m putting out content like this. And forget about the aesthetics of my website, Geocities called, they want their web design portfolio back. Ah, the things we say to try to talk ourselves out of risking the truly great rewards.

Rejection PTSD: When a generic rejection letter sends you spinning

I’ve gotta say, I spent many months not applying for nearly any opportunities because I was working on making and executing plans. Sure, there were a lot of times I labored over decisions and maybe doubted this or that choice, but in general, since I made the decision to make a move, my confidence has come roaring back. Perhaps this spike in confidence is because of the hiatus I took from putting myself out there, allowing myself to want, to seek (approval).

In the past month or so, I have started applying to things and submitting writing to contests again because momma needs income, you know? Last month, I applied to a freelance gig that I was 100% qualified for. It was writing content for English Language Learning software. My original intent was to share the actual rejection letter with you, but it appears I deleted it rapidly to get it out of my face. But, fear not! I have this newer form letter that I received just last week:

They’re all the same, but they all sting a bit

These knock me down. I can’t help it. All the familiar feelings and doubts come flooding back. If I can’t land THIS gig, how will I land any others that may be more of a reach? The first letter (which I can’t find) very specifically said that my experience and qualifications do not match… but they do. I KNOW they do.

How easily something so simple can infiltrate your psyche. It gave me flashbacks… so many times I applied to this or that opportunity in Denver and got nothing back. How many times have I been brushed aside or not considered? No bueno. It’s so so hard not to internalize this, especially after so many years of fielding various rejections or pure oversights.

But, what actions can I take?

I know that perhaps my presentation could be a little better. This is a totally different presentation format than I’m used to. I’ve reached out to the appropriate people and asked advice. Perhaps I need to do a little more. I’ll hire someone to help me with the web design of my online portfolio, because it is something I struggle with, and apparently no one wants to dig through a Dropbox file. I’ll reach out to a couple of people via LinkedIn for advice on resume structure and pitch wording. It would be so easy to let this sink me because upon receiving these rejections, I immediately wanted to walk into the sea.

Oh, I still can’t get a job, it’s still completely hopeless. Nothing has changed.

But they were only a couple of gigs. Some with very unfortunately worded and triggering form letters. There will be others.

In the meantime, I will continue to create on my own terms. Maybe I’m not meant to create content for others, maybe there’s something else in store. Time will tell. Even if it’s not perfect, at least I’m still creating, right?

Dangers of seeking (or expecting) perfection

That reminds me. A reason I so rarely finish my own creative projects is that they aren’t perfect. It’s a symptom of this Impostor Syndrome; not wanting to put anything into the world that’s less than perfect, so instead, I put out nothing at all. This is one hurdle I am really trying to get over, especially with this blog and my social media. I had to really push myself to not wait for the perfect design or the perfect handle or the perfect anything. I knew I needed to start creating, regardless of perfection. As I continue to move forward, I will continue to learn and improve. It will get better. Doesn’t necessarily stop me from itching when I see this imperfect design or this imperfect blog structure, but I must push through!

I would love to hear others’ stories of how they got over this debilitating mindset. For a while, I thought I had surmounted it. I was moving and doing and being! Can’t hold ME back. I ran out of fucks to give. But, they have started to crawl back. Get out of here, little fucks, I have no time for you.

Give no fucks! Be happy!

A couple more links about Impostor Syndrome:

12 Leaders, Entrepreneurs and Celebrities Who Have Struggled With Imposter Syndrome
Lou Solomon Ted Talk on how to cure Impostor Syndrome:

The Breaking Point

February 27, 2018 / KKRegan / 9 Comments

Imagine it was a cold, grey evening. Except don’t, because I was so far in the hole I wasn’t paying much attention to the weather, I’m just trying to set the scene. Actually, considering that it’s Denver, it was probably infuriatingly sunny and crisp. A perfect day out of many, many perfect days. I believe it was late November as I was sitting down to pay my December mortgage. I was feeling alright. Sure, I had gotten laid off in August. There had been some hairy months there, but I had just picked up a seasonal part-time job. Surely, that income would help me to meet my mortgage, buy me a little more time.

I pulled up my accounts. Reality, in the form of numbers, came rushing at me. At first, it was crystal clear, then blurry, then clear again. I didn’t necessarily expect to avoid dipping into my savings at all, but I was hoping not to make such a big dent. Math strikes again. After I paid my December mortgage, I would have $400 in my account. Four. Hundred. Dollars. January mortgage was a thing of fantasy. A joke, really.

What the weather SHOULD have looked like

My world swirled in and out of focus. I couldn’t pay my mortgage. I could not pay for where I lived. I was 34 with no job prospects, working as many retail hours as they would throw at me to try to, what? Buy myself some time? Heroically attempt to make my mortgage, but not do much else? Live no life but to keep this roof over my head?

I was sent whirling. Falling. Spinning. Down. Down. Down. This was a dark day. Potentially the darkest. I was at the bottom of hopelessness. Denver has not been kind to me, friends. And this was the culmination of many years of repeated defeat and disappointment. Many, many years of job hunting and (wrong) job getting. Some awful jobs and bad decisions. Now, the newest iteration. I had been applying and applying for months (years, really) with no light at the end of the tunnel. Any jobs I thought I wanted, I couldn’t get a call. Even with jobs I didn’t want, I would find myself deep in the middle of a panic attack on the way to interviews. Wait, why did I pluralize interviews as if I got many? I didn’t.

I feel fortunate because I have a strategy that serves me well on these darkest days, a strategy I used on this day. When I get knocked over, I wallow. Not forever, but for one day I allow myself to really FEEL it. I sit in it and writhe around. I let the pain, fear, loneliness, and hopelessness wash over me. I think on it, I learn from it. I don’t chase it away. Then, nine times out of ten, I’ll wake up the next day with a clearer head, ready to take action to actually get out of the hole– or at least make the hole a little more comfortable.

The resulting moment of clarity was my biggest one to date. And I’ll tell you, fair reader, that once I made the decision and figured out the answer, it was like a cloud lifted. While I certainly didn’t have anything figured out, and I certainly would run into a lot of trouble along the way, taking control of my own destiny gave me back much of the agency that I had lost in recent years.

Starting to feel a little more like normal Denver weather

I realized that I was working all these hours at my retail job, supplementing it with temp assignments and substitute teaching simply to pay my mortgage. I was not giving any time to passion projects or actual future plans because I had to focus on certain money. And I had run out of time. Time would keep moving, my bank account would keep shrinking, and I had no control over my trajectory. I could apply for 1,000 more jobs. I could NOT control if they’d call me, and I could NOT control what a job would be like once I got into it.

I decided to take my mortgage out of the equation. If I took my biggest bills off the table, I would have to make much less money to survive, which would give me the time to actually create something worthwhile. This way, if I ever chose (or needed) to pursue a brick and mortar career again, I would have something to show for myself beyond an array of experiences that only show me trying desperately to find my place somewhere that maybe I don’t belong.

In order to regain control, I plan to either sell or rent out my apartment, sell my belongings, pass off my cat to a loved one, and go rogue.

I am not a religious person, but I do believe in some things. I believe that the universe has been screaming at me for years that Denver is not the right place for me. I have ignored these screams out of convenience, or misguided hope. Year by year, those screams have gotten louder and louder. It just so happens, right as I was getting let go from my last full-time job, I was simultaneously gifted free flights on a major US airline. The best gift I could ever, EVER have asked for (thanks, Marie!) landed in my lap right as I lost the last thing tying me here. The universe had now started jumping up and down in addition to the screaming.

So, I am going to take my flights, and whatever meager cash I get from selling my stuff, and I am going to travel. I am going to live nowhere and everywhere all at once. I am going to housesit (using Housecarers.com) as much as possible (that’s free living!). I am going to get out of my comfort zone and see what that does for my creativity. I am going to make money any way I can. I’ll teach English lessons either in-person or online, I’ll freelance write or edit. Maybe I’ll land in a place where someone needs any kind of help and is willing to hire me to do it.

Additionally, I will work on my projects. One of those projects will be this blog. At first detailing all the emotions, struggles, and victories of preparing to leave, and then reporting my experiences on the road. Come along with me, won’t you?

Me, soon

Tag: Motivation

I’ve Never Been a Slytherin

Slytherins are known to be incredibly ambitious, and that traditionally hasn’t been a big problem of mine

Like this:

Impostor Syndrome is my Boyfriend