Limited

I generally avoid discussing work on my blog, but I have been having some seriously unsettled and stressed and heavy feelings lately regarding my professional life. I was able to identify that the source of my yuckiness and self-doubt was work, but couldn't seem to nail down exactly what aspect of my life as an independent consultant in Mozambique was to blame.

I mean, honestly, for as cool as my job sounds (and is) most of the time, there sure are some downfalls. Like a salary for the past year that would allow me to qualify for welfare and food stamps were I back in the US (let me tell you, just because I live in Africa doesn't mean life is cheap. I actually pay more for rent and groceries here than I ever did in New Mexico). Or the overwhelming bureaucracy to get even the simplest thing accomplished. Or the lack of a car / work computer / filing cabinet / office supplies / access to cute work clothes and shoes. And don't even get me started on some of the clients I have to deal with...

But no, as annoying as all these "environmental challenges" can be, I knew they weren't to blame for my funk. I started to wonder, while brushing my teeth this morning, if I was on the wrong career track altogether. If maybe writing business plans and conducting strategic planning workshops isn't really where I should be putting my efforts. I considered chucking it all to the wind and rebaptizing myself as a proper writer (the kind that pens best-sellers, not market studies), or a full-time NIA teacher, or an artsy vagabond of some sort selling jewelry to fund my travels up and down the coast of Africa. As fun as it was to contemplate these alternate destinies, some deep part of my gut told me that a career change was also not the problem.

Hmmmm... I put these musings out of my head and got to work on the projects we are preparing for the IFC. I put together new sections in one of the business plans, did a little market research on the internet, sent some e-mails, prepared a presentation for our first big progress meeting on Thursday.

My mom called while I was finishing up my work for the day, and I was so happy to hear her voice. I'd been secretly hoping all day that she'd call. We talked about our cats, the weather, the pretty teal poncho I'm wearing that leaves lint balls everywhere... and then somehow I was unloading my feelings about work. That I've been doubting myself, my capabilities, my path. That I feel unsettled and unsatisfied professionally these past few weeks. I talked and talked, and she listened and reassured, just like a good momma does. Before I knew it words were coming out of my mouth faster than my mind could direct and organize them. My conversation had become unconscious, I was speaking from the heart and not from the head. And I finally nailed what has been bothering me.

I feel limited.

I won't go into the details, but I am being required to think 100% "in the box" right now. I feel like I'm back in my MBA classes, writing papers according to a set framework and doing presentations full of catch-phrases because that's the way the professor expects it, and that's the way to get an 'A' at the end of the semester. I'm being required to do the equivalent now, only the players are different and I'm being paid for my time and effort, a very practical silver lining to the lack of creativity and joy I feel regarding my work as of late. But the concept is still the same. Play by the rules, don't rock the boat, stick with the traditional way of doing things and you will be rewarded.

Thankfully this limiting situation is a non-permanent part of my work and as they say - THIS TOO SHALL PASS. But oooooooohhhh am I ready for it to be over so I can get back to my projects that make me feel alive and motivated, the ones that affirm my belief that the private sector is the answer to sustainable development in Mozambique...