I know working at jobs is a positive thing for so many people. A necessary thing. It can help build confidence and foster feelings of accomplishment. It pays the bills, it helps people form relationships and feel connected to community. Not to mention the essential services workers provide for us, like food, shelter, and clothing.
There are people who cannot work who wish they could.
I know all of this.
But, for some reason, for me, I can’t help but see the world of work, as I know it, as a sinking ship.
I’ve had many jobs over the years, and in each one, I always felt that something was off. I blamed the jobs for awhile, and then I started to blame myself. WHY couldn’t I just be grateful for the work I get to do? WHY was it so hard to make myself stay on task? Everyone else is doing it! It’s a necessary part of life! Stop looking around for an escape route, and focus!
And then, I fell overboard.
Looking back at it now, it was a strange series of events that pushed me along the deck, over to the edge, the railing. I suppose it was the pandemic that gave me that final shove. When, suddenly, I was unemployed for the first time in my adult life.
I had fallen right off the ship.
That was over 2 years ago.
Since then, I’ve been swimming around, fully aware that I’m supposed to find a way back on. At first, I used the excuse that, due to “the circumstances,” the ship seemed harder to board than usual. The sides steeper, more slippery. That’s why it was taking me a little longer than anticipated.
These days, whenever people see me, they call out. Hey! What are you doing? Get back up here! And I make half-hearted attempts. Fling a rope or two that doesn’t catch.
The problem is, now that I’ve gotten a look at this thing from the outside, I’ve started to have some concerns.
I’ve noticed that the people on board are sooooo busy, all the time. On the lower decks, they are running around, plugging leaks, frantic, anxious. Their bosses are yelling at them. Go faster! Faster! More output! Now! And the leaks are spreading, getting worse and worse.
Meanwhile, on the upper decks, the head honchos are building additions to the ship at an incredible rate. Workers there are also scrambling, building, trying to meet impossible deadline after impossible deadline. Crunching numbers, printing out spreadsheets, having meetings about meetings. The different managers are trying to outpace each other, make their constructions even more impressive than the rest.
Everyone is so focused on what is happening right in front of them, the next thing that must be done in their particular role, that no one seems to notice that the whole ship is structurally unsound. That actually, they are all sinking.
Of course, most of them don’t want to hear the truth. That this thing they are all working so hard on, that they’ve dedicated years of their lives to, is defective. That they might actually be industriously building the instrument of their own demise. That most of the problems that they are frantically trying to solve, day after day, only exist because the very foundation of this world that they are keeping afloat, the ship itself, is fatally flawed.
I don’t think it’s really anyone’s fault. Someone built the first part of the ship a long time ago and found out, hey, this ocean is a lot easier to navigate when sailing on this thing. And other people climbed on board, and since they needed more room, they added to it. Bigger and bigger, any way they could. Of course, it’s difficult to build a boat while you’re on it, relying on it to carry you. While it’s in motion.
And eventually, people forgot what it was like to not be on this ship. They thought this ship was the only option. All there ever was, or could be. The ocean scared them. They forgot they could swim.
So, I wonder, what’s to be done? It probably isn’t feasible for everyone to just jump off, all at once. That would be chaos. Right now, this ship is keeping a lot of people safe and dry and warm and occupied.
But some people need to get off and take a look at this thing. Start building a replacement. Do something. Fast.
And sooner or later, I have to make a choice. Do I stay off the boat, really commit to the scary work of bringing about something new? Or do I find a way back on and let someone else handle this problem?
I keep treading water, trying to decide.
If I’m being honest, what I really want to do is stop worrying so much. Just lay back. And float.
design + surrender 