Fuel

It took me a really long time to recover from that first real-world job interview I had after college. I was psyched to get a face-to-face interview after a positive phone interview. It was for a video production company here in Kansas City. I had looked at the website and honestly believed I could bring something better to the table. By that point, I had been editing using an industry standard editing software, Final Cut Pro, for nearly eight years. Of course my self-esteem was at an all-time low, but even so, I genuinely thought that at the least, I could make a pretty good video editor. 

I arrived for my interview in the basement of some house in the middle of suburbia. It was clear to me from the initial introduction, that I was in for a treat. It was really less of an interview and more of a timed skills test. He had me perform some obscure editing tasks that I would never use in producing a commercial. But I did it, although obviously not the same way he would have. 

As I left he offered me some unsolicited advice, "If I were you, I wouldn't even put Final Cut Pro on your resume. You don't know what you're doing." Level-headed Katie should have taken this advice for what it was. It was actually drivel, coming from a man running a disorganized company out of his basement, who hadn't even bothered to look at my demo reel. Instead, I accepted his words as fact. I cried the 45 minutes home. I couldn't put Final Cut on my resume? That's really all I had.

My stomach still hurts thinking about that experience. I did everything I could to erase that moment from my memory, but it would just creep into my mind occasionally. My dad said to me, "Katie, do something so great that one day he comes to you looking for a job. That would be the greatest redemption." So while producing the documentary last year, I let myself think about it from time to time. I used it as fuel. 

I'm really bad about letting moments and comments like that eat away at me. I replay one from my Target days all the time. I was on my lunch break and had just stepped out of the bathroom stall to wash my hands. A little boy looked up to his mom and casually asked, "Mommy, why is that woman so fat?" I grimaced as she hushed him and scooted him out of the bathroom. I had been feeling really good about myself for losing 10 pounds. But I left work that day defeated and replayed those ten seconds in my head over and over. Ultimately, I lost my will to continue down the weight loss path. It was just too hard. I was destined for constant humiliation.

I've pushed those memories to the very back of my mind as an attempt to live a normal and happy life. Today, I let em flow. I came so close to stopping on my terrible, no-good, very bad run today. I needed something more than my will today, and so I thought about some of those awful comments and looks I've received over the past 20 years.  My run didn't become easier thinking about those things, but completing it without stopping became possible and then a reality. Maybe repressing those memories isn't good for the soul. Besides, I could use them for fuel.