In an ideal world, when it came to picking a profession, we would only have two goals: first, find a job that we enjoyed, and second, find a career that paid us enough to meet our basic necessities.
However, in order to think so freely, we'd have to be emotionally balanced in a way that only a handful of us are. In actuality, when it comes to deciding on a career, we are often plagued by three extra considerations.
We need to locate a job that will pay not only enough to cover normal living expenses, but also enough to impress other people, including folks we don't particularly like.
We also want to find a career that will free us from being at the mercy of others, whom we may deeply dread and distrust, and
We hope for a profession that will make us known, appreciated, honoured, and possibly renowned, so that we will never feel little or disregarded again.
These three additional obligations, without a doubt, make working life far more complicated and unhappy than it would otherwise be. It's no surprise that we would find ourselves unable to decide what to do. We must contort our natures to appease extrinsic imperatives, rather than being able to focus on the jobs that we are enthusiastic about and would organically like. We could never work as a kindergarten teacher, a psychotherapist, a carpenter, or a cook, for example. Our psychological desire to impress others, to wield influence over them, and to be recognised by outsiders precludes such modest choices from the start.
Because of our mental state, we must strive for significantly more prestigious occupations, even in fields we don't particularly enjoy, and we may have to work far harder than is healthy for our health or that of our family. We're prone to panic because - because the stakes for failure are so much larger - even a smidgeon of public disfavour, or a fraction of the stratospheric sum we made last year, will be viewed as fatal. When we're under duress, we're more likely to make rash and foolish decisions. We may cut corners, engage in dangerous schemes, and fail to give our task the time and attention it deserves.
What would enable us to make the best job decisions is something that appears to have nothing to do with work on the surface: a profound feeling of love as a child and as an adult. A creature that has been truly loved does not need to prove itself in any meaningful way. It isn't necessary to perform in school, amaze acquaintances, or boost a parent's shaky self-esteem. It can find its own delights; it doesn't need to impress because it is unique just by being. It may end up working exceedingly hard, but it will do so out of passion rather than a desire for praise. It can focus on doing a good job without being distracted by anything.
An experience of adult love adds to the sense of safety we require. When someone truly loves us, their tolerance, compassion, and tenderness make us feel at home and at ease on this planet. It makes no difference if no one knows who we are or if we have very little money at the end of the month. "two people in love will be happy to sleep on a park bench," wrote d.h. lawrence, an idea that may or may not be literally true, but which conveys well enough the leeway that love gives us in terms of our material priorities. As a result, when people seek power, riches, and recognition, they are motivated by an agonising sense of being rejected, for which we might feel immense compassion. They may appear to be winners, but they are actually miserable victims. Excessive accomplishments are the result of an emotionally wounded belief that being isn't enough.
Trying to heal emotional wounds through our career choices and exploits may have become second nature to us. We might not even be aware of what we're doing. We should dare to wonder what I would have done with my life if I had been properly loved from the beginning. We may have to admit, with tears in our eyes, how different our path would have been had we not sacrificed so many true objectives in the sake of establishing a sense of acceptability we should have had from childhood.
Even the most extraordinary professional successes will never be enough to compensate for a person's lack of love. Work will not be able to compensate for a lack of love. We should enjoy work on its own terms, while mourning and seeking redemptive substitutes for the love we lacked in the first place. How to get along with your coworkers is a guide to the most difficult aspect of the workplace: creating harmonious working relationships.
