Although the destination might be wonderfully bright, inviting more light into your life is not always an easy breezy journey. You will sometimes have to look at difficult aspects of yourself, process painful feelings and find new ways of dealing with situations and people. If at anytime you find that this becomes too challenging, please take a step back and consider asking either a friend, coach, counsellor or therapist to support you.
At this moment, I regularly speak to both a coach and a therapist. If the topics I bring to those sessions are relevant for this practice, I will write about them here. Sometimes you will already see me plan exploring a theme with either the therapist or the coach in the steps, the schedule or the check-ins.
From the House III inventory on communication a topic surfaced that felt too big for me to explore on my own. Although I longed to clear out my digital address book and social media accounts, something was keeping me from pressing ‘delete’. Part of me even got upset and sad at the thought of saying goodbye to people I used to work with, people I used to see a lot more often than I have in recent years.
Although in my inventory I also mentioned friends I made when living abroad, the ambivalence mostly applies to work related contacts. In a coaching session about professional communication, these conflicting emotions came up again: wanting to be free, not wanting to let go. They were accompanied by two other feelings: the unworthiness and also the powerlessness I mentioned in January whilst exploring House II.
Some days ago, I took all of this to my therapist.
I told her that I was wondering if the feeling of powerlessness had to do with experiences some years ago that I had not properly processed. One was a situation where I was made to believe that I was the ideal candidate for an interesting position, only to be rejected at the very last minute in a very blunt way. Another was a situation where someone I had known for a long time, someone who I really trusted, introduced me to a client for a freelance project. The idea was that they would be involved with the project as well. However when it came to negotiating the complex contract, dealing with the rather difficult client and meeting an extremely tight deadline, the trusted someone was nowhere to be seen. They sided with the client and pretended not to know me. This has hurt me deeper than I care to admit.
I shared that I was wondering if the feeling of unworthiness was related to any past experiences in my personal life. Were the comparisons and negative thoughts that I described in my House II inventory at play here?
But no. There was something else going on. And it was my therapist who spotted it. In order to explain what she detected, I shall give a little bit more context.
Before I trained as a teacher and a coach, I was on the pay roll at a few organisations, some large, some small, in a creative industry. I was offered my first job while I was still at university, and gladly accepted it. For about a decade I worked in this field, both in my native country and when I lived abroad. When I returned home, there weren’t that many positions available in this industry, at least not for the type of work that would allow me to really use and develop my talents and skills. I found temporary placements and freelance work, but that was it.
I was sad, but at the same time curious and open to discovering what else was out there in the world. That is when teaching and coaching came into my life. I still missed the creative industry, but also loved how this new work allowed me to make a difference. I could see the effect it had on my clients and on my students that I was there, offering a safe space for them to be themselves, to figure things out, to learn and grow.
After a few years, I stopped teaching full-time to properly set up my coaching practice. This is when I looked at the familiar creative industry for work to pay the bills. Again, there was no real match. Despite being OK with that on a rational level, emotionally it felt anything but alright. Often when I was in touch with people in the industry, I felt unworthy, insecure, hurt, intimidated, confused, jealous and a bit lost. I did not feel safe at all.
I recently found myself looking at my LinkedIN contacts, thinking: so very few of these people actually really know me. There are too many people there who I have never had a real conversation with… Most of these people work in an industry, a ‘world’ that I used to be part of… It is a relief not to be part of that ‘world’ anymore. It is not a safe environment for young women to work in. It seemed so creative, forward thinking and visionary, but at its core it is still very old-fashioned and hierarchical. And yet… It hurts to no longer be part of that ‘world’. Look at how successful and beautiful those people, all those young women, are. I am not part of that ‘world’, I am not good enough.
I really believed that this was my fault. That something was wrong with me. That I needed to work on my confidence and self-worth, get over those minor disappointments and show up with a smile. Or, failing that, never interact with the industry again.
This was until the therapist asked me to describe the dynamics in that ‘world’. How does it work? How do people interact? What are the expectations? What are the codes?
The following description might be a little abstract, but as I have said before, I want to be mindful of people I write about. I think it is enough to know that the organisations I used to work for, are part of a creative industry.
Like most of the organisations in this particular creative industry, they were based in one of the largest cities in my native country. I mention this, because it seems relevant that the competing organisations are all in the same bubble together.
The people who work there each have their role in the making, advertising and selling of a creative product. These people are facilitators: the products are not created by them, but by artists. The majority of the consumers only sees the artist and the product; they are not aware of the facilitators.
The amount of these particular creative products that is made on a yearly basis, vastly exceeds the demand. No matter the value, originality, beauty and importance of the products, there are simply not enough consumers to buy and use them all at once. Particularly as there is an influx of these products from other countries as well.
The way the products are made has hardly changed in decades, perhaps even centuries. In each and every one of these organisations, people follow similar schedules and work with the same job descriptions. It is therefore relatively easy to pick up a job in another organisation. It is also rather easy to compare employees to one another, not only within the organisation, but throughout the industry.
They all work very hard. Always racing against the clock. Never enough hours in the day. From time to time, as a new product is finished, they celebrate with the artist and colleagues. Other social activities are occasions when the work of multiple artists is presented, either directly to consumers or to those who will later sell the products on. This is when the employees meet colleagues from other organisations. And last but not least, there are international gatherings where people from the industry meet to exchange ideas and look for products to take home and introduce on their own market.
Although there are some positions in this industry that require little interaction with other people, the majority of jobs is very outward oriented. You will be engaging with the artists, with other people on the team, with people who help you advertise and sell your product. You attend events where your artists make an appearance. There you meet other artists as well. And finally, you get to know the people who are doing similar work for a different organisation, either in your own country or abroad.
When I was new to this creative industry, I loved meeting all these people. There were literally hundreds of them. We all had the same purpose: putting those beautiful works of art out into the world. I enjoyed discovering new artists and supporting them in their process. I spoke passionately about their work to the press and to colleagues abroad.
But that was the icing. The cake underneath had gone stale. The way the organisations (large and small, established and new) operate, puts a lot of pressure on its employees. People work against deadlines that are too tight, are expected to be ‘on’ all the time and spend a lot of their time ‘off’ attending work related events or preparing for their next working day. When one project is finished, the next three are waiting. It is never enough.
And it is never up to the people who facilitate the artists in their creations to decide when the product is a success. No matter how often they tell the artists and themselves that what they made is beautiful, transformative and wildly different and new, there will always be someone who says: but you should have sold more. Success is defined by sales figures, reviews, awards. It is defined by what consumers, critics, judges and colleagues say.
Now, I am by no means saying that this is right. Personally, I am a huge believer in the words of Theodore Roosevelt, brought back into collective awareness by Brené Brown: It is not the critic who counts… But what I am trying to explain, is that the creative industry I immersed myself in for about a decade, is one where public success is what counts and validation is more often than not external.
Not only does this apply to the product, it goes for the people as well. Between the words ‘creative’ and ‘industry’, the emphasis lies on the second. Sales figures are extremely important, as are the artists who generate most sales. The value of an employee essentially depends on how much they contribute to the successes: what matters is their share in the production process, delivering high quality work in as short an amount of time as possible. But also the way they interact with the most successful artists and make them feel appreciated, keep them happy. This, to any of you working in the corporate world, will sound very obvious. What strikes me though, is how particularly in the first part of their career, most employees are given very little space to grow as a person, to make mistakes, to develop their own creative talents and to take time and work on artistic projects for the sole purpose of creation, not limited by any targets or deadlines. Instead, they are often considered relatively cheap work horses who are expected to deliver really good work from day one. And if they are not cut out for this, someone else will take their place.
What matters is your output. Which products where you involved with? Were they successful? And what also matters, is who you know and who knows you.
Even in my native country, where horizontal structures are said to be the norm, the creative industry I just described is an hierarchical one. You have to work your way up the ranks and there you will find the top positions are often held by men. And if they are not, the women at the top tend to have a masculine communicative and leadership style. Thankfully, this is slowly changing. And I do believe that the new generation of men in leadership positions in this industry have a different way of presenting and behaving themselves than their predecessors. Although in their field they may not have had the best father figures, most of them at least had a strong, often working, mother at home who taught them that women are no less than men and deserve to be treated with respect.
When it comes to patriarchal and misogynistic behaviour, this industry is no different from other parts of society. I am actually surprised that relatively few stories of harassment have surfaced so far.
Personally, I have only felt unsafe in retrospect and once I was able to look at it from a distance. In the moment, I did not allow myself to really register what was going on: a handful of people, either men or women behaving rather masculine, were calling the shots. They did not always have the best interest of their employees or even artists at heart, but were more concerned with their own self-esteem.
I remember the atmosphere in a room at an event would change once the ‘bosses’ trickled in. Puffed up and arrogant they would walk past, kings of their world. Artists looked up to them. Employees looked up to them. Many of these dinosaurs stayed on long past their retirement age. Their egos probably would not have survived a day without their humble subjects.
When I immersed myself in this environment, not only did I soak up all the good things (meeting interesting people, travelling, working on creative projects, putting my talents to use), I also swallowed a lot of dirty water. Porous and sensitive as I am, I internalised the rules and codes of that ‘world’: it is good when people like you; people tend to like you when you dress nice and look pretty; it matters who you know; it matters what successful projects you were part of; it matters that people speak highly of you – etcetera.
I had no idea. And I do not even agree with any of those ‘rules’. Somehow though, when I am interacting with people who are working in ‘the industry’, particularly ones I do not know very well, there is a Pavlovian response and my mind begins to compare. It suddenly becomes very concerned with where I stand in that crowd. Am I good enough? How can I prove that I am worthy of belonging?
It is the most primitive response: stay with the flock or else you will fall prey to the hyenas. Part of my mind still thinks that this creative industry I was once part of, is ‘the flock’. And so I need to adjust and try to fit in. Well, perhaps I do not want that anymore. I would rather choose my own flock, thankyouverymuch.
The one remark my therapist made, that helped me look at this entire situation in a new way, was: ‘They seem awfully concerned with status. Sounds a bit like high school, doesn’t it?’. And she added: ‘They sound confused. They don’t get it yet. Perhaps that will help you hold your ground and stop listening to those “rules”. Because external validation is not what really matters. What matters, and you as a person, a coach and a teacher, you know this, what matters is not your output, it is who you are inside.’