Learning my Worth

February 2021

The idea of living off the land in gypsy-like state in a tent for summers at a time sounded incredibly romantic, but since I was long past the part of my life where I had the ambition, fitness and grime factor (circa: living in the jungle in 2013), the idea of working as an HR and Safety Coordinator at an organization for a reforestation company suited me just fine. So, when I was contacted for a Zoom interview, the potential of working for sustainable and green organization filled my hippy cup and part of me has always felt I missed out on being a tree planter for a season or two.

February 2020

If I’m being honest, so much of the reason as to why I accepted the previous offer was because of the money. Finally, I thought, I was learning my worth. I’m still a believer in Signs and although the HR Manager at the Mine assured me that a six month contract often had a way of flipping into a full time gig, I knew that all I would need was a contract because after that, we would be headed off to Australia*. The independent-woman in me wanted to try out life in camp, and despite the role reversal of Mike staying at home to watch Hugo, and the fact that it was he himself who was trying to get a job at a mine, he was more than willing to support my career move.

Immediately I realized the importance and necessity of building repors with my hiring managers, in order to understand the skill sets candidates needed to have to successfully fill a role. I reached out to my old HR Manager who also switched industries but in reverse, which I gained invaluable amounts of knowledge through asking him question after question about the roles within the mining industry. I can’t tell you the number of times typed into Google: what does an Engineer... Metallurgist... Control Roomer Operator... do?

I stormed into those meeting rooms wearing steel toes and dark wash jeans to balance the no bullshit tattoos and a septum piercing and countering them with a very professional and a very feminine top. I knew I was once again entering the old, white mans’ club and a new industry that I needed to learn, and do so quickly. Most of upper management passed me off for a 20-something little girl with a bounce in her step. But, I was the recruiter for the entire Mine site goddamnit, and it took some time for them to accept this and even more so, for me too.

It seemed that the previous recruiters didn’t have a have a whole lot of use, as hiring managers where pleasantly surprised when I came prepared, facilitating the interviews and learning the needs of each department. After hiring well over 30 haul truck drivers in the Pit, one of the Superintendents gave me a good job kiddo after filling our ever revolving open positions. I took what I could get and took the childlike praise for a win. Surprisingly, I was filling roles that were deemed unfillable. 

I was killing it at my job and the money was rolling in. After nine years and three continents, I was able to pay off my $27,000 student loan, interest not included. I purchased some extravagant snowboard gear without thinking, had the adventure of a lifetime salmon fishing at Babine Lake, and I went on my first ocean fishing trip (without puking on the rough waters) on a whim, all the while saving for our Australia trip.

February 2021

I was pretty disheartened; The Zoom interview was terrible, the interview was poorly conducted, and some of my responses were weak. I knew I needed to find a safe space where I could hone in on my recruiting skills, but also develop knowledge on the safety side of things, where I was lacking from a experience standpoint.

February 2020

Mentally, I was starting to crumble. There was hostility between my hiring managers and upper management, and I was having to navigate through the cold office climate, at times being directly in the middle when our hard work and hiring process was put to a blunt stop. I did not jive with my General Manger. I was previously gifted with three Plant Managers within the Forestry Industry who were very much Big-Deals but understood where they came from. I had respectful relationships with them and learned that arrogance wasn’t the key to being successfully responsible a site, regardless of the industry.

After leaving my previous job due to feeling financially undervalued and watching other coworkers take full advantage of the system, without any repercussions, I handed in my two weeks noticed with a bitter taste all the while forgetting what I was leaving behind: the people. I forgot all about the badass women who I worked with, and those relationships I no longer had, especially when the work days’ were tough. I took for granted the relationship and trust with my old Manager, which I had an incredibly honest and raw relationship (he reminded me that although we sometimes yell, it’s not directed at one another).

 After once again having to talk one of my hiring managers off the ledge at the Mine regarding a postponed offer being sent out, and the toxicity coming from the General Manager, I finally made an appointment to start counselling.

After a few sessions, I learned that I was experiencing Imposter Syndrome, where, despite all the success and the constant stream of ‘atta girl, I was so certain that I wasn’t good enough to be the recruiter and someone realizing this was a huge fear. Despite the praises, I was still unable to take constructive criticism well, and despite all that money, my work-life balance was deteriorating. To this day, the morning vibrations on my cell phone still sends me spiraling back to the Saturday mornings when my work e-mail screamed for attention, with each incoming email vibrated through my work phone and Mike was asking me if I’m getting paid on my time in an ever disapproving tone.

When the Mine HR Manager mentioned my contract and casually offered me a permanent position, I countered with an extension of my contract and declined the permanent offer. 

It's a tough to know that I'm not fit to be a ball-buster, that this badass feminist has no desire to stay in the corporate world. Fuck, that still is a hard pill to swallow. If I would have stayed at the Mine, I know I could have gone places, and my career would have taken off, with the dollars pouring in, but I would have given up pieces of me until I lost myself. I would have aquired a lifestyle I didn't even want in exchange for a work environment that was slowly suffocating me.

I walked away with my head high and my job well done. I gave everything I had and I know I did well, still, the independent woman in me is disappointed I couldn't make happiness out of a career like that.

On my last week at the Mine, I chatted with a co-worker and confessed my work stress and anxiety. I admitted that I was perhaps too soft-skinned for such an abrasive work environment and I needed to work on developing some courage and callous. She responded that perhaps I just needed to not be in such a work environment with those people.

February 2021

After living in Smithers, I realized how rare it is to have a blue bird sky here. With a combination of being surrounded by enormous mountains (one of which is Hudsons Bay Mountain, the ski hill), living in the valley and the Bulkly River moving ever so sluggishly, apparently inversions are the norm and rarely is there a day where we aren’t fully cloud covered. But today, we were blessed with an uncommon blue sky. I could feel the sun warming me up on the Hill, as we rode up on the chairlift and I couldn’t stop commenting on how it was so nice out. It was a fantastic day.

I habitually checked my email after Snowboarding and received and email from the controller at the Tree Planting Corporation candidly requesting a second interview. The arrogant characteristics of the Owner/CEO reminded me far too much of the GM from a lifetime ago.  In the most eloquent way possible, I told them to fuck off. It was the most empowering and glorious feeling ever. Within a week’s time I’d be accepting another offer, full circling to where I left, back to my people, only this time with more knowledge, better perspectives and a different appreciation. It’s time to come home.

The way you tell your story to yourself matters.

Kirstin

*Austria is on hold for 12 months because COVID is awful.

 

My Reason to Run

 Millarville Half Marathon

I showed up at my friend Carol’s door with my sneakers in hand and my face puffy and red from tears and snot. Carol opening her door to a half deflated, and at times, sobbing Kirstin, became such a regular occurrence over the summer of 2012 that I’m not sure she batted an eye at my messy appearance. She was my closest friend from High School and we would spend our evenings running throughout our hometown and then following Richard Simmon’s The Stomach Formula on my huge tube TV in my Grade 12 year. Between then and University in Calgary, I seemed to had forgotten my love of running and traded it in, amongst other things, for a relationship; my 26 year old self had given away so much of myself so eagerly to appease the love I thought I needed, it’s hard to comprehend now at 33.

Carol and I signed up for the 10K Underwear Affair – A run for researching cancers’ down there. It was the first formal running training plan I’ve ever used and we used our iPod’s to track steps and that were loosely converted into the mileage ran. I remember Carol cursing her iPod on the day of the event when the automated woman congratulated us on our run: our distance was in fact a mere 8 and not 10KM. I still laugh thinking about it. Shortly afterwards I talked Carol into running my first Half Marathon with me. I remember tidbits about the run itself: how I felt better than I thought it ever would, since having to hobble downstairs after one of our especially long training days. I remember her laughing that another runner who started putting on lip gloss, puffing her pony and primping herself right before the finish line. I can remember hugging my mom and seeing Hugo at the finish line, my mom baffled that we would run such a distance. Mostly, I remember how we’d meet up for our long runs and after celebrating by making some kind of dessert (I’ve learned that creampuffs are baked and not fried, which I eat unforgivingly when I find them in a bakery). Somewhere along the way, training my body for 13.1 Miles of running, I healed my heartache and found myself again.

Quesnel Women’s Half Marathon

How could I not sign up for an all Women’s Run a mere three hours away from my new home in Northern BC? I trained religiously on the Bearhead Road – a dirt road that had sharp ups and downs and unforgiving valleys – or so they felt like on my feet. I lived and loved on this road for on it was the first house that felt like home during the 18 month stint that I lived on a quarter section in a log house, x-country skiing and hottubing. A house I borrowed from Don and Celia who became family and loved my dog. My two first frienships in the ‘hoof were made on this road, as two women lived above and below me. I would inhale the crisp morning air and begin each run on a Saturday with a slight headache and a pounding memory of craft beer and good food from the night before, spent with my Bushbabes, as we so cleverly coined ourselves.

The Bearhead prepared me well for the Half, as one of runners mentioned that there was an 18 percent gradient in hill climbing. It was a cold run, and I remember at one of the fueling stations asking what Kilometer I was on, because I didn’t bring any type of GPS – faulty or not. I was happy to find I was at 17KM. I would think this was a time in my life I felt incredibly grounded in my footing, my work, travel and friends.

Baldy Half Marathon

I grew up skiing on Baldy Mountain in Southern BC, so it felt only natural to sign up for the Baldy Half in the Okanogan the Wine Capital of BC.

The training for this run is vertically nonexistent in my memory, probably, what made the run such a challenge, but the run itself was glorious, and the after race, even better. We ran on a gravel path the majority of the way, following alongside a river. As the miles went on the orchards changed from apples to grapes and more. The early morning sun greeted us and the fog lifted, making the view breathtaking. I stopped at one point to take a photo. I believe this was the first and only Baldy organized Run, and the turnout was little. I paced myself with another woman I didn’t know, I think I said less than five words to her. My goal was to complete at under two hours, and I think she got me at 2:06. At the finish line, my Mom, Aunt and Uncle met me. My Aunt was ecstatic at my time, which was a reward all on its own, as she was incredibly active. We celebrated at the wine tasting event that took place at the finish line. I sipped local wine, proud but exhausted and slept in my mom's car for the two hour commute it took to get to my own.

Victoria Half Marathon

Without questions, this was the hardest run I have ever done. Physically I was all trained up, but mentally it was 13.1 Miles of grieving. I put all of my emotions into that run, which means I waited at the start line flustered, believing that I underdressed on an unexpectedly (for me) rainy day in Victoria. The music blared intending to pump us up, but it only set my nerves on fire. I started the race too quickly and within miles my hip flexor – an injury that I constantly fight with, faired up early on.

It was the largest race I’ve ever entered, and I shouldered my grief and my emotions alone. For 13 miles I recounted the tragedy of a friend unexpectedly losing her husband in a hunting accident and having to watch Mike’s cousin battle, without success, terminal cancer. These two tragic events forced me to not only question my own invincibility, but Mikes as well. My emotions came out in redundant fights and repetitive arguments regarding everything from life insurance and wills to character flaws and life choices. What should have been calmly and earnestly discussed sitting on the couched, was challenged through raised voices and at one point a flipped glass coffee table. It was 13.1 miles of questioning everything. It took miles of further running to start working on fixing myself and I reached out for professional help seeking a counselor to start working on my messy self.

Montreal Half Marathon

Kayla and I met each other through our jobs, but got to know each other from running. After jumping from a vigorous 3 miles to 8 miles, I talked Kayla into running the Montreal Half Marathon in April; this would be the first time I ran throughout the winter. Typically I switch to snowboarding and cross country skiing and transitioned into running in the spring; it was incredibly daunted by running in the ice and snow; the coldest we ran was at -18.

As our mileage increased, our conversations deepened and I realized I found my person. During one particular long run, her soon-to-be husband carried water and our coats while patiently bike-riding behind us. He was shocked we didn’t run out of things to talk about during our multi mile jaunt.

Sadly, due to COVID, an ongoing theme in our lives, the run was cancelled. Determined, Mike dropped off water bottles tied in green flagging tape for 20+ kilometers and we strategized our longest run. One freak rainstorm and many miles later, on a spree, we decided to run the remaining distance and complete our Half Marathon a week before we intended. The idea of running a half marathon in Montreal appealed to me because one of my very close friends moved there, I never asked Kayla why she agreed to run it with me, but I couldn’t imagine training in such extreme weather conditions and running such a bizarre half with anyone else.

Banff Marathon

If running has taught me anything, it's that I'm incredibly goal orientated. I’ve been mentally creating an Adventure List (a post to follow in the future) of goals to strive for and items I want to acquire if we were to settle down and make Mike and my lives together more permanent  (because a house isn't enough). I have lists of short term things I’d like to do each new season, from certain hikes (Shass Mountain Trail in Fort St. James) to other adventures (White Water Rafting the Beaver River). I have long terms goals that must be met also like hiking Mount Kilimanjaro in the next five years. 

This time last year, Mike and I had nicely laid out our two year itinerary that went something along the lines of Recruiting at a Mine followed by fucking off to Australia for a year (half work, half travel), spending a season snowboarding in Smithers and then coming back home and perhaps making a few life changing decisions that will make work-contracts and long travel destinations, tricky, but still possible.  However, like everyone, COVID has thrown a wrench in our plans. Although still incredibly important to both of us, we’ve postponed Australia (and shortened it and altered it), and ended up in Smithers for a season, but as time isn’t standing still, I’m feeling the pressure to accomplish the other life goals; I’m 33 after all.

I have one other major goal I want to reach before we settle and before we commit to permenent career goals, long term mailing addresses and perhaps a tiny human. I've always known that a bullet on my Adventure List including running a marathon, and quite naturally, I've asked Kayla to join.

Kindly,

Kirstin

Either you run the day or the day runs you.