I’ve had a tough time of things in the last few months.
I was made redundant in January – because the world’s financial markets are a mess and seemingly not getting better any time soon – and the job hunt is absolutely brutal. I’ve lost count of the impersonal rejection emails I’ve received. (Actually, I could count them because I have them all logged on a depressing spreadsheet, but it sounds far more compelling to exaggerate the situation, and I really don’t want to count them for the aforementioned reason that it’s depressing.)
The robot spends four seconds deciding that you’re too old / young / experienced / inexperienced / specialized / versatile / corporate / consumer / pick your bizarre range of reasons why you’re not precisely qualified for the role, based on you having written “experience in managing a crisis” on your résumé, rather than “crisis management”, or some such nonsense, and churns out a rejection email before you can blink. On which note, each of my applications has been “carefully reviewed”. Has it bollocks. Let me refer you back to the robot.
After each rejection’s note along the lines of “We won’t be taking you forward”, there is … nothing—no further explanation. No feedback. The process is so demoralizingly impersonal that you want to crawl into the computer and out the other end like the deranged girl in The Ring to beg for some hint as to why you’re not precisely what they’re looking for. Also, no indication of whether your wild stab in the dark at what the budget for the role might be was even in the right ballpark when you entered your desired salary into the box that was asterisked, meaning you didn’t have a choice in the matter. Nor any indication of whether your hour’s worth of CV-tailoring and witty cover letter drafting would have been better spent watching paint dry. Back to The Ring analogy, except this time I’m pleading with the job poster for a better sense of where the role sits on the job spectrum.
Sorry, rant over.
As a result of all that frustration, I have benefited hugely in the last week or so from time spent in the great outdoors. Firstly, my wife and I saddled up for the first time since she fell pregnant with our son (Freddie), who’s now 16 months old, and enjoyed a crisp 20-mile countryside cycle. My first rule about cycling, to pick again from Fight Club, is not that you do not talk about cycling, but that there must always be coffee and cake. Chocolate tiffin, yes please. Thank you.
Later that day, I attended a networking event with a difference; local businesspeople around a campfire in a remote corner of a rural farm. Among the activities were breathwork and constructive conversations about how we can disconnect in order to reconnect, by which I mean switch off from all the world’s distractions – social media, emails, news channels. We spoke about the power of nature and toasted marshmallows on open flames. And there was lovely energy throughout the group. In the middle of the working week, the fact that these people were using the time to put their phones aside and discuss the importance of disconnecting from our corporate lives was empowering.
Then I went even further off-grid; my wife and I took Freddie and a fox red lab to the coast in South Wales. On arriving at our remote cottage, we realised there was no phone signal or wi-fi. After first panicking that no one would be able to get in touch with us, we then came round to the idyllic prospect of no one being able to get in touch with us. The joys of watching Freddie run around on a beach for the first time, while the dog bounded into the waves, and simple dinners and board games made it a magical few days.
In much the same way, Spain and Portugal were recently hit by nationwide blackouts but what started out as panic that the electricity might not come on for a week turned into humans being, well, more human. Families went for walks, neighbours talked to each other, kids played outside instead of on screens. No panic buying of toilet roll, no Netflix, no doomscrolling, no distractions, no noise.
The take out of all this has to be a focus on what truly has meaning in our lives. In the world of sobriety, some may call it a Higher Power; a focus on something greater than ourselves. Something that can form the foundation of your continuing sobriety because it is so powerful.
Family, friends, nature, religion (if that’s your thing), time spent doing the things we love, the things that bring us joy and peace. In my first blog, I wrote about how we’re so determined to be human doings all the time that we’re failing to be human beings. It’s a sorry state of affairs when we have to work so hard to take care of ourselves.
But, by using mindfulness and movement, we can avoid those distractions – temporarily at least. What’s more, it’s amazing how all that time outside – coupled with an appreciation of the simplicity of the things that are most important to me – has left me feeling reinvigorated and ready to resume the job hunt.
All this got me thinking about the crossover with my motivational speaking and mental fitness work, in terms of helping people build resilience to life’s ups and downs. My life is, I’m afraid to say, full of continual and seemingly unrelenting downs at the moment but I’m remaining positive that the ups will come. Because they always do.
In the meantime, I’m privileged to be gaining a whole load of perspective and focusing on what’s important. My wife. My son. My health and fitness. And not much else.
What are you focused on?
I cover all of this in more detail in my book, READY, SET, LIFE – please pick up a copy.
For more information, visit www.jamesgwinnett.com.
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