You're Not Supposed to Suffer
How work can really hurt us sometimes, but it doesn't have to be that way.
When I was 30 years old, I was running a fashion technology startup in New York City and was four months pregnant. We’d just closed our first round of funding, a $1.1 million dollar seed round. Our office was at the WeWork on Varick Street, and I was on the fifth floor, coming out from a meeting. You have to know that the startup scene in those days was a very small world. In the conference room next to me, I saw one of our investors — someone I knew from Columbia University’s startup ecosystem.
I hadn’t told anyone I was pregnant yet. It was my first, so my belly hadn’t popped. I could wear these airy button down shirts and still hide it. I grabbed my Macbook Air to cover my stomach and did what any rational person would do: I ran. Yes, I really did. I bent my body down, ducked, turned the corner, and darted down the stars. Sweaty and breathless after sprinting down two flights of stairs I exhaled; “thank god he didn’t see me.” Because if he knew I was pregnant, then maybe he would question my ability to lead this company. And that would be a disaster.
I was young and naive once, too.
Are we supposed to give our jobs everything? I thought so. This was my one chance to make it, I told myself. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. I worked so, so hard for this. My grip on it was iron tight. When so many things are tied up in your job — your identity, your sense of purpose, your financial stability — you’re willing to do some pretty wild things. For example:
You start saying “yes” when you mean “no”
Your boss assigns you a last minute project, and while you feel an immediate sense of dread and your gut twitches, you put a smile on your face and you do it. All of the “no” in your body doesn’t have anywhere else to go. So it just hides in your muscles and your psyche, seeping out slowly and manifesting in runny noses that won’t go away.
You put the company’s needs before your own
You know you feel better after yoga or a morning run, but you can’t. Not today. There’s too much to do. There’s this huge presentation for the client, or the board is in town. You’ll do it later. But weird, you’re so exhausted at the end of the day all you can do is lie on the couch. Maybe tomorrow.
You bring the stress home with you
At dinner, all you and your partner can seem to talk about is work. You can’t shake it. you start to think about it in the shower, how your boss said that weird thing to you — and what did they mean by that? How dare they ask you for something like that? You are both so stressed out by your job and can’t stop obsessing about it. You instinctively check your phone every 30 minutes, just in case. You open up Slack one last time before you go to bed, just to check.
Here’s the thing: you’re not supposed to suffer.
Work is supposed to be challenging, it’s never perfect, there are definitely some assholes in the room — but it isn’t supposed to be this hard. Where does the pain go? If you keep taking and taking the hits, the small everyday injuries, the pain has to go somewhere. I’ll tell you what happens. It seeps into your bones and comes out in physical ways (migraines, sensitivity to light, trouble sleeping) and psychic ways (you just dread work, you feel uneasy but can’t put your finger on what it is exactly).
You know the story of the wounded healer. I became a career coach seven years ago because my career was what always stumped me, always hurt me the most. I’ve been down these roads, asked myself “what am I doing with my life,” questioned everything. I eventually left that startup, yes, the one that I co-founded — which was the first of many self-inflicted career wounds.
I wish I could go back to that young girl, the one clutching the laptop. She was so scared, you know? Of success, of failure, of only having one shot. Of not living up to her potential. I’d sit her down. Order a bowl of French Onion soup, with two spoons. This would not be weird because we are technically the same person … so it is just one spoon? Anyway, I’d just listen to her. I’d nod and listen and tell her it’s okay to feel sad and angry and overwhelmed. I’d say, “it’s going to be okay, no matter what you do — it’s going to be okay.”
Well that moment has passed, and I rescued myself — as I am sure you have done as well in your own dark night of the soul. But here I am, perhaps for you. So for you I say: it’s going to be okay. No matter what you do, you’ll be okay. You are learning and growing and becoming stronger. You’re not the same person that you were last year or even yesterday. Be optimistic. Be hopeful. You have so much talent and so much going for you.
xoxo,
Mandy Tang (aka Career Coach Mandy)