Wherever you go, there you are.

As I sit here thinking about job hunting and what I want to be when I grow up, never mind that I turn 60 this year, I have come to several conclusions- none that lead closer to a job however.

First, I want to be independently wealthy. You know, enough so I can buy my own house, put in a commercial kitchen, and pursue the things that make me happy, like writing and baking, and help out family and friends.

The next conclusion is that I consistently undervalue myself and my products, and have done for my whole life. I keep asking myself why I don’t think I am worth more. I am finding that promoting myself on applications and cover letters is difficult. Even setting prices on the baked goods I sell at the Farmer’s Market challenges how I value myself and my work. I have worked a string of minimum wage type jobs, doing everything from frying donuts, to cake decorating, to line man at McDonald’s, to night stocker at Walmart, to gas pump attendant, as well as spending a decade hairdressing.

I am intelligent. I earned a Bachelor’s Degree in English Literature in my 30s. I am an artist and writer, and have been decorating cakes since I was 12 years old. Apart from my young adult years of partying too much and calling in “sick” a few too many times, I have always held to a level of integrity and ethics. I have worked to do the best job I can in whatever position, regardless of pay rate or morale.

And still, I find myself questioning my value. I look at the job boards and see so many jobs available, so many that I am not qualified for, or that have expectations that terrify me, like supervisory skills. Many jobs I am sure I could get without much trouble are not jobs I want to do though, like fast food or Walmart. I have done my time in those type of positions.

I have applied to many, many positions, some on the job boards and some not. I heard back from a few, mostly with no, or the more polite “we are going with someone more qualified or with more experience.” The vast majority I hear nothing. Crickets. Definitely not a boost to the self esteem.

So then I change how I am looking at and analyzing my value. I think, instead, of what I want my life to look like in a year, in 5 years, 10? When I think of a plan for my life, or goals, I realize I haven’t set any. I have thought in a dream-like way the kind of place I would love to live, and the kind of job I’d love in an ideal world. It looks like a fairy tale: A quaint cottage full of warm wood, and simple clean furnishings, and a wrap-around porch. The yard is fully fenced, the front full of beautiful flowers, and a vegetable garden in back along with a comfortable patio with a stream near enough to hear the babbles. The kitchen is the heart of the house with a big inviting wooden table, and coffee near at hand. I write as my source of income, working on novels, and editing and proofreading freelance stuff.

Sounds lovely and feels like a warm inviting dream. But, it also doesn’t feel realistic or attainable.

I know many people who have found or created their dream life. Why can’t I?

When I lived in Alberta, I bought a little house after renting it for several years. I had a fantastic landlord who treated me like a daughter. She helped me buy it in so many ways. The purchase price was $28,000. My mortgage payment was like $350 bi-weekly. I loved it. I renovated. I took the walls back to studs, insulated, dry-walled, took out the wall between the kitchen and living room. And then after a couple years, and the death of my former landlord, I got homesick for my family. I sold my little house for just over $50,000. I made it back to Vancouver Island with my truckload of belongings, and no job and no home.

I slept on my sister and brother-in-law’s couch and looked for work and a place to live. I got a job part time working for my sister’s neighbour in his little bakery. It was old and not very clean, and I felt like I was selling under-quality product. Oddly, there was a pet store right next door and occasionally animals would get loose and run though into our back store room. I found a rental “house” which was really an old mobile. Rodents were everywhere. Its smelled like mildew. Had some huge spiders, and it was in a somewhat rural area although on a main highway. I was always afraid my dog was going to get off his lead and run out onto the road. He was a bolter and a Houdini.

In the first year I was back on the island, I had 8 different jobs, moved 3 times, and ended up claiming bankruptcy. Also with no benefits, I could not afford the cost of my anti-depressants so had stopped taking it shortly after moving back.

All this is to say, depression is very real.

So, now it is 20 plus years later. I still rent. House prices and rents have spiked since COVID. I currently live in a 2 bedroom duplex apartment that was newly renovated before I moved in 10 years ago. I have a garden, and a small bit of grass for my current dog. I have made it into my home as much as I am able, although a change of landlords has led to me not feeling nearly as at home, especially when the new one pulled out all the flowers I had planted in the alley bed. I cried every time I went out or came in for a month after that.

Getting back to my original topic of value and self-worth, I have been asking myself how I came to be here, this apartment, unemployed again, single. And how is where I am different from where I want to be? Have I “given up”? Like, I am never going to be in better circumstances so why try? I will never get a better paying job so I stay where I am, doing what I’m doing, looking for another minimum wage job, not believing I deserve anything better.

This makes me sad.

When I was a girl growing up, there was a little plaque hanging in our kitchen that said, “Wherever you go, there you are.” I thought it was preposterous when I was young and knew everything but as an adult, it has resonated with me so much. I firmly believe that if you aren’t happy, only you have the power to change it. If you don’t like your job, find a different one. If you want to make more money, learn a trade, take a course, work harder. And remember wherever you go, there you are. A bad attitude will follow you into whatever job you take unless you change it.

I have worked to make every place I’ve lived in feel like its my home, even the mould and rodent infested ones. I have also struggled with depression for a big part of my adult life. Is there a correlation between where I live and work, and my mental health? Probably. The more relevant question for me is, did I find my way into a better position and attitude? Or, how do I?

I still have no set plan or goal, but I am looking at things a little more openly. Perhaps I will find a course to take, or an online job editing or proofreading.