At the time I got a job as a young Mechanical Engineer, I was pretty excited about the possibilities that lay ahead. I became a sponge, soaking everything that I was being taught, accumulating experiences that would matter a few years down the line. I was angling to rise through the ladders and I gave heed to information that would get me there.
That was in 2006. By 2010 I began to feel something different. I realised that helping individuals (mostly colleagues at work) solve their challenges gave me lots of joy. I began to battle with thoughts that I couldn’t even explain. The first time it hit me that I could leave engineering to pursue a career in consulting, I fought hard to contain it.
What I was feeling was real, but I didn’t know how to explain it someone else. It was akin to not knowing how to explain to a fiery preacher in church that your love for God was waning, without expecting a dose of scriptural verses thrown at you as a riposte.
That’s how transitions start – the feeling of wanting to do more, of not knowing how the future looks, but relishing the riskiness involved, the feeling of beholding the fogginess of the future, but desiring to be in it all the same.
I felt those emotions and wanted to confide in someone I could trust. What happens in real life is that we fail to understand why someone feels the way they feel and propensity to understand them based on our validations. So, to trust someone whose lenses are untainted is a tough call, but one we must do, nevertheless. Doing so helps us to begin to make sense of the emotions rippling through us.
These feelings are many – subject to the individual concerned and peculiarity of circumstances – but overwhelmingly we feel a disconnection from that which used to fill our hearts with awe. In my case, going to work in the mornings became drudgery. I yearned for the weekends. Large meetings and technical trainings gave me the opportunity to travel into my own world, an escape from the assignments in the office.
At first we battle with them, often going to denial, then we begin to sift through the maze to understand what is happening to us. Initially, we may try to reactivate the excitement by coughing up more activities, but by the time we lie at night, the nagging feeling returns, leaving an empty void that can’t be quenched by more and more activities.
[shareable]Transitions are great. They depict dynamism, a change that often leaves us aware of our powers. [/shareable]When you begin to feel the above, know that your transformation is just in view.
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