Category Archives: Where We Are

Imagine Differently

You may have noticed that of late my social media feeds have been quite active. It’s not without basis or reason. In part, it feels as though, after nearly four years of – what feels like! – an imprisonment of the soul, that I’ve been, well, let loose. 

“But, Ilya, you left your job nearly two months ago”, you might say. And that’s not incorrect. 

But I’m not yet well. Not yet stable.

I’m presently in therapy, to discuss, analyse, understand, and deal with the all too real and serious trauma brought upon by my last job, as well as lingering, older trauma. To become more self-aware of my own bad habits and behaviours. 

But it is a process. And one that needs riding out as the mind heals itself. I’m not there yet. Some days, the desire to address the ills of the world is strong, to rant and rage at the financial and banking sector, to right all the wrongs I witnessed during my time in the finance world. 

Other days, I want to hide from everything, and everyone, due to being unable to deal with social interactions. 

It’s all part of the self-rejiggering process. Rebuilding. Shaving my beard and hair, getting an earring and a tattoo, it’s all part of that process. 

My close friends – my ‘chosen’ family, as I think of them – know of my past mental health struggles, and my emotionally –  and occasionally physically – abusive upbringing, and how that’s been reflected in past relationships, to say nothing of my current non-relationship with my biological parents.

It’s a peculiar process to go through, healing mentally. It’s difficult to know what to expect some days, and it’s different for everyone that goes through therapy. 

So bear with me. After all, you’ve got to start with ‘A New Hope’ if you want to get to ‘The Return of the Jedi’. 

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Filed under Mental health, Telling stories, Where We Are

Job Hunts and Salutations

So I’m currently job-hunting, and it’s a drag. There is absolutely nothing fun about it. Job hunting is like the administrative work that one does at the end of a massive project: a neatly bow-tied set of annoying tasks that need to be completed, and in a certain order, for there to be microcosmic harmony in thy microverse.

Luckily, I happen to know people who understand that being unemployed sucks, and have gone out of their way to do what they can to assist me, so as to minimise the amount of time I spend sitting at home, firing off CVs at websites and making phone-calls to people who would rather not have to suffer one more dire American accent interrupting the flow of calls from otherwise entirely more delightful Australian accents (I don’t think much of my accent, and I’m stuck with it for life, so what can I do but mock myself?).

One such friend just happens to be a pro at this whole job hunting thing. And so today our lessons began. In an empty pub.

There I sat, at the Royal Hotel, preparing cue-cards, nursing a Coke (as one does on St. Paddy’s Day) when my friend walked in. A quick meal later, we were sitting on the couches near the front entrance, doing our best not to fall in (due to there being a distinct lack of springs in the mattresses, a by-product of many years of abuse from students – mainly engineers), and she was prepping me. “So, begin” she said.

“I…what?”

Her eyebrows flickered like a match that had just been lit. 

So I began. And blustered my way through about 2 minutes of incomprehensible nonsense about…a career path layered in the blood of cheesecake-making virgins and there’s a butterfly over there and who the fuck else knows what else. She took notes. Serious notes. The kind that I took when listening with deadly urgency to lectures on Thomas Pynchon.

And that’s when the feedback and the graphical structuring began. But only after first having the wind taken out of the sails of my ego.

The presentation needed a lot of work. A lot. So the exercises continue tomorrow. And possibly several more times throughout the rest of the week, until I can comfortably sit down in front of a group of random strangers and communicate in an intelligent way with them the way I would with friends, or family.

Oh, and before I forget, in far more important news, my friend Malcolm was appointed the new Australian Marriage Equality NSW convener, so many claps, hurrahs, and salutations to him on this most excellent appointment. Also, he throws wicked dinner parties.

 

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Filed under My relentlessly fascinating life, Telling stories, Where We Are