#493 – What part of your resume is really you?

Adapting to marketplace expectations is the easiest way to closet who you really are. But it’s necessary to survive in this world, you may argue.

To support my son's case transfer to Oregon, I'm looking for full-time employment. I've done it before, but now the stakes feel higher: without a job there, the transfer could be denied.

My unconventional career makes me fear that hiring managers won’t understand why I’m applying. Potential match has to be immediately clear for a busy recruiter not to hit delete at second 6. But my resume requires serious mental gymnastics in order to see that hiring me would make sense. 

Yesterday, trying to write this piece, I got stuck in feeling "played" by a system that wants cogs, not linchpins, using Seth Godin's metaphor.

Walking under the seagrape trees on Meridian Avenue, I realized I'd played myself by always adapting to what others wanted of me. 

How many times had I said yes to engagements outside of my true capabilities? Overpromises that made me underdeliver, harming my reputation and, worse, my self-esteem.

No system was responsible for that––I did it to myself. Or rather, my ghosts did, while I was asleep at the wheel. They persistently convinced me that being accepted was crucial for survival, and that the world wouldn’t accept my true Self.

Those ghosts made me hide my misaligned eyes behind dark glasses as a teenager, flash a toothy smile even when I was sad or bored, so that my father wouldn't worry, and show others I never needed help.

That's underearning at its core: you methodically hide who you are to avoid rejection.

If for the past few months I wondered why I'd ever called myself an underearner, because I was making so much money, now I know: it's not the money you make. It's the value you believe you bring to the world.

It's the belief that your unmasked being doesn't deserve love and attention. Money is just a proxy.

What masks do you still wear for protection?

Love,

Carolina