This week, a thought has been banging around my ole noggin. I have eight years left till I am Forty. 8 years… That’s not that long at all! And then I’ll be middle aged! What is this nonsense?
It was triggered by things happening at work. Big projects and shifting tides. And all through this hurricane of project planning, I seem to be the eye. Not the Eye of Sauron, no. But the eye of the storm. The place that is unaffected, unmoved by winds of change. Of course, this comes with a whole bunch of questions. Am I not good enough? Am I the rock? Am I a liability? Or am I the foundation? All these questions. And they plague me.
I have been told I am too good at what I do to be swept up with these winds. I am too good to be a part of the excitement and tension and fear and elation and the eventual collective sigh of relief that comes with delivering a big project. I don’t understand. And maybe that is why I am not management material – I fail to grasp the why. I can not see the choices and decisions that would lead to this outcome. Or rather, I don’t want to know.
Eight years… Its quite a while. And six years in New Zealand. While life has continued, I can’t help but shake this feeling that, career wise, I have stood still. Sure the money has gone up and the company and place of work is a joy. But to passed up for challenges, and challenges that will further my specialty as well… Well, it just doesn’t do good things to the ole self esteem. And leads to a lot of questions about ones ability. I know I am good at what I do. That’s the thing. I know that it plays well to my skills and my character. But its not all that challenging.
And, if you follow me on anything, you will know that I believe that being challenged is essential to being human. Without obstacle, when there is nothing to overcome, no goal to aim for, well then, you may as well be a potato. Covered in mud, and getting fat.

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