Summers are for transitioning II

Ill-curated Spaces (1)?

Today, I was listening to a video from my faith-driven entrepreneur session and there was this moving story about leading with a limp or leading through weakness. It says "What will it take to have the illusion removed that we have everything under control in our professional lives?" I am not sure what the answer is, but I do know it Is a difficult thing to do especially since we often like the illusion of being thought successful. So, I thought about the stories I share here and the reason why I started this Sanitystop; To help myself and perhaps others remove the illusion through humility and surrender.

If I could say so for myself and considering my background, I am a high achiever. However, I do not stay under the illusion that I am always successful or that I do not struggle like I am currently doing through this transition. These stories are not the easiest to share. Neither are they shared to instigate any pity whatsoever. I have always considered pity on its own quite a poor emotion.

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Today, I am reflecting on what it means to live and want to thrive in a space not curated with you in mind. How far do you go in such systems and to what extent can you thrive?

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In this world, one could be a lot of things; an armed robber, a rebel, a terrorist, a village girl, a full-time housewife/househusband, an entrepreneur, a techie, a remote worker, an NGO worker, an asylum seeker, whatever. But I chose to be an international student and then an expat. This is what that means. It means that regardless of what motivation and dream led me there, I have to live in an environment not curated with me in mind. It doesn’t matter whether I meet the kindest of people or the most aloof, they will almost often not know the full extent of their actions -the little things they decide to do or not do affect my life and chances.

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I finally got a call last week about a mouth-watering offer, and I felt hope soaring within me. I was told to prepare for an interview the next day just to get to finalise things. I couldn’t sleep. I went on with different quotes in my head "Damn! When God shows up, she shows off". I played my favourite French worship song Tu reste le même by Jean Jean of Eglise Nouvel Vie a little louder and stayed awake half the night -researching the organisation, and drafting my responses. I got 3 hours of sleep. Woke up at 5. Took a long stroll and recounted in my head how I was going to spend my first salary. "Someone is going home in October!... I’ve got to buy a laptop for …. Oh there is this.." I know I was pushing my daydreaming, but what are dreams for?

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I got back in from my stroll and practised for another 2 hours. Cleaned up, and for the first time in 3 weeks made some fine makeup foundation patches on my face, smoothening it. Done my wig. Looked into the mirror, smiled, gushed over my beauty and did some other crazy things known to inner circle introverts with very loud minds.

Lotte got on the call with me and told me she received my information, that I was perfect for the job and that she was not thinking twice about the offer. But right now, she has just seen my permit type and I might not be getting the job because I wouldn’t be able to get the right permit to work.?I am an international development worker on a particular permit type. I cannot get the Job. I have to be European, an EFTA citizen, Swiss, or have evidence of living in Switzerland for at least 10 years as someone from my region. They would have to justify why they are giving me the job and the permit application would most definitely be turned down since I am not a high-skill worker like a doctor or something. I am just a development comms|wannabe peacebuilding expert and anybody can do that.

I went on for another 30 minutes navigating all the options with her, but none was possible. We both looked so sad, me more. She really wanted to hire me. So again I am thinking. That in all the world and all the things we can be in this world, I chose to be an expat. Always an outsider. Always running. Always hunting. Always anxious. Always pursuing papers. Always on the fix jobs. Always counting the different ways of exit.

So, I am here, thinking of all the places I have been that are not curated for me; all the things I didn’t have a choice in, and all the places I am yet to live -that I will live and work in spite of all the embargoes placed on my mere existence.

Next Sanitystop, I will finish this story and share my reflection on the experience of living in ill-curated spaces regardless of how difficult the conversation can be.

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