Catharsis

Six special people have been reviewing the draft of Corporate Escapology.

One of them, who I’m going to keep anonymous, is someone who has been going through the formal separation from their company.  They’ve shared their feedback quite differently from the others – via whatsapp, largely as streams of consciousness.  Long, personal texts that describe how the writing has made them feel.  Providing stories and examples that my words and exercises have triggered. And where I fell short in giving them what they needed.

Every message I’ve received has stopped me in my tracks.

I get lots of feedback from people telling me the blog or the coaching is helping them, which I absolutely love, but this has been different. Like getting real-time feedback while someone is reading your words – and they’re articulating how it’s making them feel blow by blow.

And, my, were there blows:  Biased assumptions.  Condescension.  Moves blocked.  Some of the texts made me incredibly sad that anyone could have been made to feel so worthless.

At one point I asked if they wanted to stop the review, because their comments sounded so raw and painful.

“No - it’s making me create the space to think”, they said, “and that’s a part of moving on”.

This is someone who’s emotionally very strong, highly experienced, has worked in several industries and performed many roles – some very senior.

This is also someone who wanted to leave and had been preparing to leave for some time.  They hadn’t assumed this would be their job for life or that they couldn’t do anything different.

So much of ourselves is tied up in our jobs, particularly the high achievers, the people who want to have impact – and, yes, the people who want to please and be appreciated.  The daily knocks and micro-aggressions can build up without us really being conscious of the damage they are causing, particularly to our self-confidence.

Hearing feedback this way made me suddenly aware of the responsibility I’ve taken on writing this book.  Is the solution I’m offering, my Escape Method, enough? Will it stop people feeling like this?  Will it give people a roadmap to a better life?

And what about the people who read the book who aren’t as strong as my reader?  The ones who have only known working for one or two employers, who find the idea of a job outside quite terrifying?

These are the people I’m writing for.

There’s a chapter in the book called ‘What corporates do to us.’  Corporates are  inanimate, commercial constructs, of course, they can’t ‘do’ anything.  But what I’m speaking to is the underlying corporate culture, the way things get done, the behaviours, the things that are tolerated that shouldn’t be.  The corporate in this case is merely a proxy for the organisation that can make us – but can also break us.

The person who shared their authentic responses to the draft of Corporate Escapology has given me renewed purpose for this book and the drive to get it finished (deadline looming 13 December): I’m writing it for people like them, who deserve more, who need to feel like there’s someone on their side, someone who can help rebuild their confidence and self-belief, someone who needs the inspiration of other people’s stories and the tools to break free and plan what’s next.

In a previous blog I told you I felt vulnerable sharing the book, laying it open for others to criticise.

Now I feel vindicated.