I was born in September. I can feel my birth. My month. Every time my birthday comes along, I get a sense of whether I’m on my path or not, whether I’m doing myself justice. It becomes very clear to me all of a sudden. I think getting older is a privilege, without being naive about the process. I’m usually not a big fan of numbers and what people think you should have achieved by the time you’re a certain age, but in certain contexts, I own my (almost) twenty-nine years in this world.
I’ve completed my documented studies, I’m revitalising and using them on a daily basis, I’ve gotten my hands dirty in the so-called “real working world”, and now I’m approaching this right in-between age that makes me claim my laurels, and I’m not about to rest.
I am the hostess of innumerable demons and voices, they are all very familiar to me, and I’ve liberated them. They are all sitting at the table with my encouraging muses and goddesses, out in the open. It’s not always an easygoing Round Table, but everybody’s perspective is considered and nobody is incarcerated. We’re quite the bunch.
I’m not making myself smaller anymore, no matter how depressing the job market is. I will not lower my standards anymore. I’ve set the bar higher. I will not grow comfortable in misery, mistreatment, overworking and soul-erasing payslips that barely keep my head above water. I believe that my degree has an invaluable worth. I believe that the languages that I speak and invested so much time in learning have a golden value. I believe that my creativity counts for something. I’ve not indebted myself to my ears to barely make a decent living. I’m idealistic and I’ve seen the pit of the working society. I have so many rejection emails that I could make a novel out of them, almost all of them generic, non-explanatory and void of sense-making reasons. Just “no”. Sorry.
I am looking for jobs that suit me and acknowledge me. I’ve come to this point. I want to make a life, not merely a living. I’m already doing it, step by step. I’ve learned to be patient. I’ll keep catapulting my worth into the universe and I’ve seen stars shooting right across my horizon, the big picture that I will not keep forgetting. Everything will adjust itself according to my continuous, indivisible and perseverant input. I have faith in myself and my capabilities, my potential. I have given myself a chance and I did not regret it.
I’m thinking about the people that I love, about harvesting accomplishments and self-love, the fruits falling off the tree that I’m rattling, my core values, the reason why I was born, what I was meant to do, why every station in my life has its right of existence in retrospective, that listening to my gut is pure gold no matter how scared I may be, that September will always reveal the truth to me and I’ve finally grown to fill in my own shoes.
“Beatrice” by Frank Dicksee (1853-1928)