I hadn’t really intended this blog to be general updates, but I’m in the mood to write something, and the post I was working on is too emotionally draining, and so here I am.
It is goal-setting season at work. I am finding this challenging because A) I have multiple bosses in a matrix organization and each boss has a different view of the priorities, and B) I am kind of over this job and pretty sure I want to look for a different one. This would be contradictory to the goals of my current employer and the goals of all of my bosses (I guess it’s nice that they agree on something).
Direct Report had an easier time writing goals. He only has one boss, and I gave him good ideas for his goals. Am I allowed to use some of his goals since I’m the manager of the team? Does management work that way?
I also have therapy homework to figure out my goals and set them. I am new to therapy. Not sure how I feel about the overall therapy experience, but that’s a separate post. I don’t mind the concept of therapy homework. I think what I don’t like is the language of goals. Not achieving goals sounds suspiciously like failure. Not setting goals in the first place sounds like a good way of avoiding failure.
I’m wondering if it’s possible that I’ve reached my mid-thirties without ever setting a proper goal. Did well in school because it was expected. Picked a college that felt like a good fit and offered a scholarship. Picked a major by accident, and was too lazy to switch when it turned out I was bad at it (in fairness, it was a hard major), so I stuck with it, bad grades and all. (Honestly, if your expectations are low enough, you can do anything). Picked a minor because a friend asked me to do it with her, and the minor was easy and helped offset bad grades in my major. Got into the industry through a job fair, and it turned out to be a pretty good fit. Moved when the commute was too long. Spent too much time in relationships with the wrong people to be actively dating with purpose, and met now-Husband by accident. Most of these choices turned out to be reasonably good ones, but it wasn’t that I had it in mind to wind up where I am now.
Sometimes, I feel like a paper doll or a Barbie, in that there are probably half a dozen storylines represented by outfits that would have been a good fit for me. I’m might be wearing one, but it probably isn’t the only one that would make me happy, and it might not even be the one that makes me happiest.
The metaphor falls apart because I feel like paralyzed by having to make a decision and commit to a life goal, which is not the same as changing outfits. So I stay in place, naked and undecided (yeah, this metaphor really isn’t working).
Ugh, I’m exhausted. Therapy (and blogging too, in a way) is exhausting. How does anybody get anything done?