Staying in the game

Now that I'm back in the game, so to speak, I feel like there's a lot worth talking about when it comes to staying current while in a period of unemployment -- either by choice or by luck. How do you stay abreast of the topics being discussed professionally when you're not dealing with them personally? How do you keep yourself one step ahead? And maybe most importantly, how do you take care of yourself when the stress of finding that next job are overwhelming?

Staying Current and Relevant
Let's call this part of the post the things you probably already know.

• Get on social media. Even if you aren't an active yourself, follow along with the conversation on Twitter or in the library blog world. Follow (and interact with, if you so choose) with people who are doing things that inspire you or that you would like to see yourself doing.

• Take it a step further: talk with those people. Get in touch with them and ask them how they got where they are. It's not always easy to put yourself out there, but sometimes you have to. Most importantly, though, if those people take the time to get back to you, make sure you thank them. Their time is precious, too, and that they took some to give you insight is worth the minute of thanking them. 

• Read your professional trade journals, but don't limit yourself to them. I read all of the journals I got as a member of ALA/PLA/YALSA/ALSC, but I also read through ALAN's journals. I made sure to peruse School Library Journal, Library Journal, and Publishers Weekly, and I read VOYA when I could get my hands on it. In addition to those, I made sure to do a lot of reading of teen-centric websites and web magazines. Oh and the breadth of blogs I read -- not just book blogs or library blogs. I read blogs written by teens, pop culture blogs, blogs about publishing, and more. Different audiences, different authors, and different voices broaden and inform your world view. 

• Try out the new tools and toys. If you have an ereader, give it some good love so you can know how it works when you're faced with questions in a new job. Try out new social media outlets and figure out how you could use them in a work place. 

• Write for your professional journals. Pull from your experiences and from your current standpoint to write something meaningful for the profession (and ultimately for yourself). The journals are only as valuable as those who contribute to them, so have your voice heard.

• Find something you're passionate about -- whether within the profession or not -- and devote yourself to it. Blog about it. Partake in it fully. Aside from showing that you can make something worth your time and energy and effort to get to know it inside and out, it allows you to hone your writing and thinking skills.

• Read. Read. Read. Read inside and outside of your comfort zone. Push yourself to try new things. Stop if you can't get through something. 

• Don't worry about applying to every job out there. I know it's against a lot of what you'll hear, but I don't think you're doing yourself favors if you apply to any and everything that sounds remotely decent. Hold off and apply only to those jobs which sound like they would be good jobs for you. 

• Tailor your resume and cover letter for every single job. There is no such thing as one size fits all. If you're taking the advice of the bullet point above and only applying to those jobs that would be good, then taking the time to write specialized applications for each will pay off greatly. 

These are all no-kidding ideas, right? Anyone can tell you these things about staying current and relevant and preparing yourself for future employment. But how about those things they never tell you about?

I learned a lot over the last eight months. Some things were good learning and some were not easy learning. But they were learning none the less.

• Unwanted advice: I got a lot of unwanted advice while I wasn't working! A lot of it happened to suggest I should consider other career paths or other plans because, well, what I wanted to do (whatever it was -- I never quite defined it for myself) was "hard to get into." I think this is really unfortunate and, frankly, sad advice. If you want to do something career-wise, no one should stop you or suggest you apply your skills and knowledge elsewhere. Your decisions are your own. Yes, the field of information science is broad and yes, your skills are applicable in so many different places. But you know what? If you don't want to do those other things, no one should convince you that you should. Stay firm and positive in your own vision for yourself. Know who you can turn to when you DO need advice, and let those who chose to advice you otherwise say their piece but don't let it deter you from what you want. 

• Seek guidance when you need it: You will likely need advice in the course of things, so know who you can turn to when you need a shoulder to cry on or when you need someone to read your cover letter and resume for the fiftieth time. Use your system to ask questions, to check your head space, to read those job ads for you that you aren't entirely sure about. Know getting it out with someone else can be the best thing, even if it doesn't answer every question. At least for me, it was rarely about the question but about emptying my mind wholly and fully to someone who just would listen. You don't have to be isolated or alone, even if it feels like you can be at times. Cultivate a support system that gives you what you need (and -- as importantly -- give back to that support system in any way you can). Never be too proud to ask for what you need.

• Budget: This is essential on many levels. First is the financial, of course. When I left my job, I was lucky I had a husband who was still working (though he doesn't bring in the big bucks as a public servant by any means), but not everyone is in that position or they are and realize losing an entire source of income is a huge change. Budget before you find yourself without work. Write down every single expense that comes up per month and make sure you round up (if my mortgage is $1030, I'd round it up to $1100 to be safe). Look at your margin and be reasonable about whether or not you're comfortable living with it. Budgeting for me required making the decision I would be giving up a lot -- my husband and I weren't going to go out for dates on a weekly basis like we had been, I wouldn't be buying anything unless it was an essential, and travel was to be kept to a minimum (that's my biggest spending area). It also meant figuring out how to pay off the big bills we had before they got any bigger. As soon as we sussed that out and made the decision it would work, the key was sticking to that budget. I tracked expenses like a madwoman. I knew what was going out and what was coming in. I squirreled away what I could. But what's important to keep in mind, aside from the financial budgeting side, is the time budgeting aspect. Now that your day is unstructured, you have all the free time in the world. For me, that was terrifying. I forced myself to find routines, to budget my time around things like writing, reading, chores, grocery shopping, and so forth. I made it a routine to get up by 7 am, to get in the shower and get dressed as if I were going to work, make breakfast, then sit at my desk (away from the television) for a set number of hours per day. Budgeting my time like that was a huge stress reliever. It forced me to work, even if I wasn't "working."

• Make a to-do list and do it: But I don't mean just a list of things you need to do during the week (grocery shop, write a blog post, etc.). I'm talking a list of things you never have had the time to do but have always wanted to. As long as those activities fit within your budget, there really is no better time to pursue them. Aside from keeping you feeling sane when you're stressed out about the job situation, it allows you to feel a sense of accomplishment. Items on my to-do list were to get involved in a YALSA committee (done), propose a session for a conference (accepted), write a book (wrote a 69,000 word manuscript which I've been revising for months), learn to cook a variety of new vegetables (done and bonus -- I taught myself to appreciate new foods and eat well while doing it), working out harder and longer (I may have signed up for a 5K, which is wild). These kinds of things kept me heading forward, even on the days that were incredibly tough. Learn a new skill you've always wanted to learn. I do believe that kind of stuff gives you an edge because it gives you an outlet for whatever stress you have on the job front. 

• Make a dream list: Similar to the to-do list, but this is a list of those more lofty goals you have, be they personal or professional. Write down the steps for how to achieve those dreams and put one foot in front of the other. I've always had this business idea in my head, and while I'm not entirely sure it's feasible at this point in my life, I took the steps to not only think about it, but outline it, to solicit feedback on it, and to draw up next steps. It's not dead; it's still active. It's still a possibility. Rather than let it continue to be a "dream," it's been made more concrete by being put down on paper and actively pursued (even if it's on a small scale and even if it's at a place I know I can't go after it with my whole heart just yet). One of the hugest benefits of not working is that you can allow yourself to simply dream and think about the things you want to do and achieve. You don't have work or other commitments clouding the incredibly powerful act of dreaming. Write down those dreams. Once they are on paper, they feel more real. More attainable. 

• Take care of yourself: My biggest weakness is I don't like to take care of myself in the ways I sometimes think I should. The truth is, I don't think most people do. When I first started not working, I found myself wanting to sleep all the time. I'm not a huge sleeper as a rule -- I function best on 4 or 5 hours -- but I wanted to take multiple naps a day. It worried me that that was my method of coping with change. Whether or not that was the case, I finally let myself sleep when I wanted to. Eventually, I found myself not needing those extra naps and I found myself back in a normal sleep pattern. What I had needed in those first few weeks of adjustment was time to decompress and relax. Denying myself that was more harmful than just doing it. Likewise, it is essential to work out, even if it's a 20 minute walk every other day, and it's crucial to eat well. One of my good friends told me when I first was not working that I should make it a habit to wear shoes every day. That that simple act would put my mind in a different place. And you know what? She was right. It was one small step in taking care of myself because it forced me to care just enough about how I felt to keep my mind in the right place. 

• Take care of yourself, part 2: Best but hardest lesson I learned while not working? That there are very, very tough days. I remember one day I was driving home from grocery shopping and had to pull over because I was just crying. There was nothing particularly different about that day than any other, but something simply set me off. I have always been a denier of my emotions, thinking it was smarter to suck it up than to let into them. A friend said to me that I needed to stop that, and when I woke up to how powerful a change simply letting myself be sad or angry and let out the tears was, I realized how much better it felt to actually get it out. It was sort of a wake up call to how important it was to take care of the emotional aspect of everything, too. Allowing those bad days was just as important as appreciating the good ones -- and maybe it made those good ones better. In other words, there are going to be things that knock you down and taking care of yourself means letting yourself be upset or frustrated, especially because that'll be enough to help you pick yourself back up and try again. 

• Treat yourself: Celebrate small victories just like they're big ones. Don't hole yourself up entirely. One of the best things I did was have mid-week lunch dates with a friend. No, we didn't spend any cash. She'd come over in the middle of the day, I'd cook us lunch, and we'd veg for a couple hours. It was indulgent without being indulgent, and it was an opportunity for both of us to relax and share our highs and lows. We'd cheer each other one in what we were pursuing and we'd commiserate about those less-than-fantastic setbacks. On a particularly bad day, we'd buy a carton of ice cream, sprinkles, and indulge on it while watching movies. The effect those sorts of things can have on your mood and on your outlook are big. Even if it comes from a place of feeling like you've hit bottom, treating yourself as someone worth being treated helps pull you out. 

• Be vulnerable: Passion, heart, feelings, and allowing yourself to indulge in yourself put you in a vulnerable position. It's terrifying. But it's also incredibly powerful to embrace that vulnerability and acknowledge it's part of getting through things. Yeah, it'll cause you to cry some days but that's all a part of the game. It'll make the payoff in the end feel that much sweeter. But if you take the first points of this post -- the practical tips -- and marry them with the second points of this post -- the less practical -- you'll find the vulnerability is motivating, not debilitating.

I can think of a billion other lessons I learned. As much as it sucked, not working gave me so much time to learn about myself and to think about what I want out of my life in a way I never was able to before.

Do you have any tips -- practical or otherwise -- for those librarians who aren't working? How do you suggest staying in the game? In staying ahead? In taking care of yourself?

The most personal thing to write about

I've been putting this off and putting this off, since it's one of those topics that's incredibly tricky to write about. But the further away from it I move, the more I realize it's one of those things that should be talked about. Even if it's for no one's sake but my own.

I quit my job.

My last day was almost exactly three weeks ago, and no, I didn't switch jobs. I quit without a backup plan.

There are a whole host of reasons why I decided it was time, but the real thing it came down to was that I wasn't happy. Me. My needs weren't being met.

I think part of what makes this so tricky to write about is that anyone who works in a field like librarianship is so customer focused. Everything is about our communities and meeting the needs of others. That's precisely WHY we get into the field as it is. We want to help other people and we want to do things that other people ask of us. We want to offer them the resources we can because we have the knowledge to do so. We want to provide programs that meet their interests because we have the skills to do so. We want to connect them to the world because we ourselves have made these connections, and really, there's nothing more exciting than watching someone else feel that spark of understanding, of curiosity, of excitement.

Librarianship is a giving field.

With how much we're dealt as a field when it comes to budgets (that is to say, we get none, and then it gets slashed more), when it comes to staff (we get none, and then it gets slashed), and salary (laughable at best, then it gets slashed), we still rise above it. We can run crazy good programs on shoe string budgets. We can count on colleagues to help us figure out a way to run a crazy good program on no budget because as a field, we thrive on sharing. It's the spirit of librarianship.

We drive ourselves to constantly outdo ourselves. We keep statistics and measure ourselves against ourselves. We look at holes in services and figure out ways to fill them in. We look at our community and figure out where what we do in our buildings can be pushed and brought to other places where the community could benefit. We build programs to bring in every age group we can imagine. We keep our collections up-to-date and we keep tabs on what's coming down the pipe so that we stay on our game. We want to keep our customers happy.

One thing we lose in the process though is ourselves.

We're all giving people by nature. That's why we dive into the field and that's why we strive to keep doing better all the time. That's why I don't know a good librarian who doesn't work 40 hours in the building and another 20 or 30 at home, reading, networking, planning programs, researching, developing, and much much more. All for their job.

We beat ourselves up over the things we can't control. If we aren't getting enough people in the door to our program, we blame ourselves. We could have done more promotion. Could have jumped on an idea quicker. Could have made the program stronger. Could have written that grant application better. Could have recruited and trained more volunteers. Shouldn't have missed that book in that series when it came out.

But do we ever step back and think -- is this making me happy and satisfied? Am I being fulfilled?

It was too easy for me to come home after a day at work, one where I'd easily have done 3 outreach story times, emailed with various teachers about collections or program plans, put together ideas for the next day's program for middle schoolers, done a 4-hour long shift on the reference desk, shelved, and feel like I accomplished nothing. Or worse, feel like I'd accomplished all of the wrong things. It was so easy to beat myself up, especially when I saw or heard things around me. You know what I'm talking about -- the grumblings you hear through the staff grapevine or the community members who'd come into the library and suggest that there be more programs at night, on the weekends, that there be more offerings for one age group. It was so easy to take those things to heart. To want to deliver. To never, ever feel good enough because I was only providing 3 story times at the schools a week, a weekly program for one age group or another, keeping my collection in tip-top condition, performing outreach, keeping an active teen book club fresh and fun, and so forth. I could do more! I could offer more! I should offer more because my community wanted it and isn't my job to serve my community? I'm a failure because I'm not doing everything I can.

I forgot I'm only one person.

But then there's the perennial argument: recruit more volunteers! Get more staff to help out with programs! And those are things I did and thrived on doing. I could do that. The more volunteers, the easier it'll be. The more staff that helps, the easier it will be.

Yep, the easier it'll be to offer more. And the easier it'll be to forget that training and supervising takes time and energy. And it requires being even more conscious and prepared for everything coming up than doing it solo. And sometimes, it means people who shouldn't get chewed out about the stupid things librarians get chewed out about DO get it. Knowing your summer intern got yelled at by a parent because our library couldn't offer every kid at a big program a glue stick of their own sucks. It sucks more than when they yell at you, the librarian. You're not only not doing enough now for your community, but you're not doing enough for your own staff.

You're not taking care of yourself in the process at all.

Offering a million programs is great. I was offering a million and a half as the only staff person for youth in my library. It never felt like I was good enough. I could do more. I should do more. I'm told to do more. I'm told I'm not doing enough. I'm not giving up enough. As a newbie librarian -- I'm 27, librarianship my only career, having gone for my MS as soon as I finished undergrad -- I felt I had a lot to prove. I wasn't trying to prove anything to myself, but rather, trying to prove myself to my job, to my community, to the field as a whole. I was justifying coming home feeling crummy every night with the notion that it was just how it was. It was going to be hard and unsatisfying sometimes. It's easy to run yourself into the ground. Especially when you're new and unestablished. Especially when people are skeptical of you. If, for example, you've entered into a position after someone who left a legacy. Who people loved because of what they brought to the job. To what they brought to the staff. You feel like you need to fill that hole and then do it even more. Because that's how you establish yourself in a job, right?

You can love something you do and still forget you're not loving your job.

After summer reading this year, I felt let down and unsatisfied. I wasn't getting what I needed to be getting. I didn't feel like what I needed to be doing was being done, and I came to realize that this wasn't the right job for me. I wasn't fitting into the hole that I felt I should be. I was wearing myself thread bare with little satisfaction. Pressure inside and outside made me work harder and longer, but I wasn't feeling happy. I wasn't finding the challenge something worth pursuing. Instead, every day became another thing to get through. Another obstacle in the way of a weekend of reading which, you know, is another way of saying more work.

I worked hard to build my own knowledge, my own connections, establish a wealth of ideas worth trying. I was lucky -- I got to try them. I was in an ideal situation where nearly any and all of my wacky ideas were not only not laughed at, but they were implemented. It never felt good, though. It never felt like it they were mine or that my knowledge was valued for what it was. I don't expect parades, but not as much as a thank you for programs, for the hours of toil and worry and stress, it hurt. It hurt a lot.

I took it took personally.

I didn't take it personally enough.

That breaking point made me realize it was time to go. That jumping out while I still had most of myself in tact was what I needed to do to be happy and satisfied.

It wasn't easy.

More than one person got the oh-shit email from me.

More than one person told me I made the right call.

Three weeks later, I'm still wavering on whether I've dove into the crazy end of the pool or not. But I do know one thing, and that's that I don't feel awful at the end of the day, even if I've not achieved anything. Even if I'm not working. Even if I know that finding a job that fits my needs as a librarian might be challenging. What I've walked away with is an intense understanding of what I need in a work place. It's so easy to ignore our own needs. It's so easy to ignore our own happiness and need for fulfillment in the name of serving others. In the name of the idea that it's just how it goes. That work is work and isn't meant to be a place where we're going to be satisfied and happy.

I beg to differ.

I love librarianship. I love working with teenagers. I want to continue on that path specifically. But I need to find that place where what I bring -- my knowledge, my skills, my talents and my passions -- meld with what the library/community needs are. I wasn't melding in my last job. I was coming home fatigued, not energized.

I want to be energized by what I do.

This is the world I know I do well in and in which I can thrive. It's a field where there is much to do and explore. A field where what we bring as individuals matters a LOT more than we're ever admitting. It's a field where you can go on and on and do any and everything.

Stepping away from a job was the scariest thing in the world. Admitting it this openly was the second scariest. I've always been a hyper-involved person. Even in this sabbatical of sorts, I'm keeping myself busy in the librarianship world. Last week, I submitted an article with a colleague to be published in February's issue of VOYA. I purchased my tickets to attend ALA in Dallas this winter, and I'm presenting at ALA Annual this coming summer in Anaheim. I've also got plans to put together a proposal for Yalsa's Lit Symposium next fall. I'm always willing to go the extra ten miles for anyone.

Except myself.

I'm going to write more about this in the next few weeks, pointing out the triggers that made me realize it was time for a change, hoping it helps anyone else who might find themselves in that position. I realize, too, that there's an opportunity to talk about what would have made this work better for me, and there's certainly the knowledge that in posting this, I'm putting myself out there to be asked what I've learned from the experience and about myself. These are all things I've mulled over for months, and, I think, things worth sharing. When we own our feelings, it makes them easier to talk about and distill them into knowledge.

After crying on your shoulders, seeking your ever-brilliant advice, and sometimes annoying you to no end with my near-daily crises, a huge thank you goes out to those of you who know who you are. Without your pushing, without your encouragement, I could have never made the plunge. And as much as sometimes the days have sucked and as much as I know more days will suck hereafter, I'm -- for the first time in a long, long time -- happy. I have the best network of colleagues, both those in librarianship and those outside it, I could ask for, and for that I know I'm lucky.