I wonder if I'm "stable" enough for this job.
Oddly, not for the actual work - there are times when I get very upset over the circumstances and the people that I'm dealing with, but I'm happy to sit at my keyboard and have a good cry that seems to get most of it out of my system.
No, my concern is the up and down nature of the workload. I get in a right old panic if I haven't got anything lined up, and am convinced that someone is out there doing all of the ceremonies that I could be doing.
The problem isthat I think I could be right.
There is a chap, very well known around town (used to be in the local media) who seems to be getting quite a few ceremonies. He seems particularly good at getting the high profile ones (young, tragic deaths, that type of thing).
The place where I live is very territorial and this chap is well known so it's not surprising that people will be comforted by having him looking after them. But this is all making me feel impotent. I'm trying to promote myself, to get myself known, but I don't want to start "stalking" the local FDs.
I feel back in the situation that I was in over a year ago - happy to stand and fall by my work, but feeling that I'm not getting the opportunity to prove myself.
This is what I mean about my instability. A phone call or two with a ceremony and I'll be back on form; the insecurity dragon will be sleeping again. And I am fairly confident that thanks to the work that I've done in the past, there are one or two FDs at least who have me at the top of their list, if someone wants a non-religious funeral.
These feelings always seems to rear their head on a Saturday morning, when I don't feel that I can do anything constructive to help my situation for at least 48 hours.
Oh well -there's always chocolate. That seems to slay the dragon for a while.
Saturday, 31 October 2009
Monday, 12 October 2009
100 not out
Much has happened since the saga of Margaret.
Well, another 30 ceremonies (including three weddings) so I’ve now done more than 100, and I’ve quit my day job. Does that count as “much”?
Yes, it’s scary-town in the world of X.Piry, as I decided to finally give up the meaningless world of finance. About a year ago, I made the decision, and have been planning it in that time. This basically meant not spending money on books and chocolate as I usually do, and saving my cash instead. Purchases have been restricted to the “sensible” category, such as a new suit, printer consumables and reams of paper.
And now the deed is done (although I may be called back to my old job on a “consultancy” basis. Terms are still to be decided, but it will be a better hourly rate than I’ve ever got from them before!). It’s exciting and scary. Mostly I’m excited and I immerse myself in work (ceremonies, or the other bits and pieces that I do that earn me threepence h’penny, but I enjoy). Occasionally, I think about it, and get scared. But fortune favours the brave and the decision has been made, so the only way now is forwards.
So what about the ceremonies? The three weddings were fun. They were all very different as one would expect from humanist ceremonies. One couple wanted traditional vows, another read poems to each other, the third had a hand-fasting ceremony. Luckily a friend of theirs wound the ribbons while I read the words, so I wasn’t trying to wrestle script and ribbons at the same time. All three went well, and I met some lovely people in the process.
As for the funerals, they have also been varied and interesting.
There was the day when I had two family meetings dealing with young deaths, one through illness and the other through accident. That was a tough day. I’ve realised the importance of building in a little “recovery time” after the particularly tragic cases. Also true after another baby ceremony.
There have been the families who seem so grateful that I’m embarrassed, and the ones that make me feel that it doesn’t matter what I do for them, it will never be good enough. There have been the families who, desperate for some control over the unfamiliar situation in which they find themselves, have grilled me to establish my credentials, my level of experience and my ability to do the job.
There was the one I tried to do partly in Welsh (there’s lovely) and the ones where it felt like I cared more than any of the mourners.
And there was the worst one of all (thus far).
The job satisfaction in this, for me, comes from the fact that I feel I’ve helped people in some way, that I’ve taken just a little bit of the worry away from their horrible time. (Yes, this is about my ego, but we all have to do what we do to get by and to feel okay).
When the circumstances of a death are particularly awful, things can be so much harder. At funerals for suicides, naturally emotions run exceptionally high. The family meeting had gone well; there had been tears, of course, but also some laughter. On the day itself there was a huge amount of tension, but we manage to release a little of it with funny anecdotes and happy memories.
And then we had the committal words, the final farewell, but without the curtains closing. After the words had been said, one of the mourners, very closed to the deceased, screamed out, and the sound echoed around the whole chapel (including from my ears to my boots and back again). Family members grabbed the person, otherwise they would have been at the coffin (which wasn’t going anywhere, but still...).
We calmed down, I asked everyone to sit. But then when I looked back at my script, I thought “if I try to read a word of this, I’m going to break down.” I took a slow breath, and managed to get started again, but felt completely bloody useless.
Afterwards, when everyone had gone to the flower area, this mourner also went back towards the chapel, but thankfully by then the wonderful backroom boys had prepared it for the next service, and it was just sitting in empty quiet repose.
This experience stayed with me for days. If I tried to talk to anyone about it for weeks, I couldn’t do so with dry eyes. Every now and again we need ceremonies like that to remind us of the enormity of what we do, but they are very hard to get through.
On the plus side, I did get a thank you letter from this person after a short while. I was delighted; not only because they are lovely to get, but also because I was relieved that the person felt able to put pen to paper. When I had last seen them they looked as though they barely knew their own name. So it looks as though I had helped, after all, in however small a way.
Onwards......................................
Well, another 30 ceremonies (including three weddings) so I’ve now done more than 100, and I’ve quit my day job. Does that count as “much”?
Yes, it’s scary-town in the world of X.Piry, as I decided to finally give up the meaningless world of finance. About a year ago, I made the decision, and have been planning it in that time. This basically meant not spending money on books and chocolate as I usually do, and saving my cash instead. Purchases have been restricted to the “sensible” category, such as a new suit, printer consumables and reams of paper.
And now the deed is done (although I may be called back to my old job on a “consultancy” basis. Terms are still to be decided, but it will be a better hourly rate than I’ve ever got from them before!). It’s exciting and scary. Mostly I’m excited and I immerse myself in work (ceremonies, or the other bits and pieces that I do that earn me threepence h’penny, but I enjoy). Occasionally, I think about it, and get scared. But fortune favours the brave and the decision has been made, so the only way now is forwards.
So what about the ceremonies? The three weddings were fun. They were all very different as one would expect from humanist ceremonies. One couple wanted traditional vows, another read poems to each other, the third had a hand-fasting ceremony. Luckily a friend of theirs wound the ribbons while I read the words, so I wasn’t trying to wrestle script and ribbons at the same time. All three went well, and I met some lovely people in the process.
As for the funerals, they have also been varied and interesting.
There was the day when I had two family meetings dealing with young deaths, one through illness and the other through accident. That was a tough day. I’ve realised the importance of building in a little “recovery time” after the particularly tragic cases. Also true after another baby ceremony.
There have been the families who seem so grateful that I’m embarrassed, and the ones that make me feel that it doesn’t matter what I do for them, it will never be good enough. There have been the families who, desperate for some control over the unfamiliar situation in which they find themselves, have grilled me to establish my credentials, my level of experience and my ability to do the job.
There was the one I tried to do partly in Welsh (there’s lovely) and the ones where it felt like I cared more than any of the mourners.
And there was the worst one of all (thus far).
The job satisfaction in this, for me, comes from the fact that I feel I’ve helped people in some way, that I’ve taken just a little bit of the worry away from their horrible time. (Yes, this is about my ego, but we all have to do what we do to get by and to feel okay).
When the circumstances of a death are particularly awful, things can be so much harder. At funerals for suicides, naturally emotions run exceptionally high. The family meeting had gone well; there had been tears, of course, but also some laughter. On the day itself there was a huge amount of tension, but we manage to release a little of it with funny anecdotes and happy memories.
And then we had the committal words, the final farewell, but without the curtains closing. After the words had been said, one of the mourners, very closed to the deceased, screamed out, and the sound echoed around the whole chapel (including from my ears to my boots and back again). Family members grabbed the person, otherwise they would have been at the coffin (which wasn’t going anywhere, but still...).
We calmed down, I asked everyone to sit. But then when I looked back at my script, I thought “if I try to read a word of this, I’m going to break down.” I took a slow breath, and managed to get started again, but felt completely bloody useless.
Afterwards, when everyone had gone to the flower area, this mourner also went back towards the chapel, but thankfully by then the wonderful backroom boys had prepared it for the next service, and it was just sitting in empty quiet repose.
This experience stayed with me for days. If I tried to talk to anyone about it for weeks, I couldn’t do so with dry eyes. Every now and again we need ceremonies like that to remind us of the enormity of what we do, but they are very hard to get through.
On the plus side, I did get a thank you letter from this person after a short while. I was delighted; not only because they are lovely to get, but also because I was relieved that the person felt able to put pen to paper. When I had last seen them they looked as though they barely knew their own name. So it looks as though I had helped, after all, in however small a way.
Onwards......................................
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