Wednesday, April 10, 2013

Repost: What's wrong w/me?

Here's something I posted a while ago in my other blog (the dead one) but it still seems to apply.  Check it out:

Why can't I fight the demons of insecurity in me and finally have something published, even if it's a stupid little article in some stupid little po-dunk newspaper somewhere in bum fluck no-where? What's wrong with me? I am never more content or happy than when I am sitting in-front of a screen typing away, dictating from ideas in my head. What am I so scared of?

My job gives me only temporary satisfaction, nothing more. I'll never be anything more than 'just a paralegal' to anyone, no matter how many years I work, no matter how long I toil away, no matter how good I get. It doesn't matter. IT DOESN'T MATTER. Being a paralegal is one of the most thankless jobs in the world.

I'm tired of fighting a system I will never master, ever. I used to love the challenge, and I still do, but somewhere between living the life and fighting for every crappy inch of respect I demand to get (I stress the word inch) I find myself disenchanted. Burnout? Maybe. Maybe that's exactly what it is but then again maybe not? Is it possible that I'm not cut out for this?

Long ago in a past work life I met H-Mali who always seemed so angered about her lot in life. I mean this girl walked around with a churning cauldron of resentment towards the whole world that was liable to bubble over. I felt sad for her, I almost pitied her because she was inevitably making her life more difficult than it needed to be. I had the nerve to feel superior because I was in fact perfectly fine with what I was doing, how I was being treated, the work product and so on and so forth.

Don't rock the boat Bina, I told myself.

Now I sneer at myself. Ironically I find myself standing at the same precipice as she probably had way back when. My only consolation is that I'm still (and hopefully will never be) as bitter as she. She let her negativity effect not only her whole life, but all those around her and everything she touched. I can't do that, my faith in Allah (swt) is too strong. I believe that Allah will make things better eventually.

But here's the bottom line...

I am good at what I do.
I am competent and dedicated
I am thorough
I do think outside the box
I do consider work before everything else
I am capable of handling more than anyone can ever conceive
I do thrive on challenges
I do gripe and bitch and get stressed out but I do not hate it and secretly find satisfaction
I love being a part of a team
I love being needed and appreciated
I hate being considered 'just a paralegal'
I am not 'just a paralegal'

So, so, so long ago during one late night when we sat reviewing documents, working hard, H-Mali was spewing her bitterness and I said to her 'listen, you didn't go to law school, you did not have to study till you felt like your brains were going to slide out of your skull through your ears, you didn't have to sit for the bar or spend the next few years sacrificing your life and sanity to the God's of a law firm where internal politics is what it's all about even though it should be your work product. You are a paralegal and a good one and that's what you should take pride in. Do not expect people to fawn over you because you're one and not the other and do not expect them to recognize you because in fact you are not one, but the other. Be happy with what you're doing and when the dissatisfaction is so great that you can no longer bare it, move on, find another path and be happy with that choice as well.'

Did I say the right things? Should I listen to my own advice? I don't expect the same. I AM a paralegal. I AM proud of what I have achieved. But damn it acknowledge what I am and realize that maybe without me (and my ilk) you'd be far more screwed than you already are cause guess what? Without me (and my ilk) you'd be the ones who are quality checking and bates labeling till your brain melts and slides out of your ears in boredom because you're intelligence is far superior to that of a gnats.

Okay, I'm done.

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