The ‘pin ball machine’ years that followed the Summer I Graduated.

 

I have thought long and hard about my why, whilst trying to avoid saying why it’s my why.
After months of deliberations, I’ve realised it’s impossible. You can’t share one without sharing the other. Which is annoying.

As it is incredibly hard sharing parts of yourself. It can, and will, change peoples opinion of you. Offering yourself up for judgement is both brave and deeply uncomfortable. There is undoubtedly a power to it, stepping into your story and truly owning it. So this is my why. Why I offer a little of my time to mentoring.

Back in the Summer of 2000 I had just graduated.  I had no idea then, but I would be in free fall for the next 10 or so years.  I was that ball bouncing around inside a pin ball machine, ricocheting off circumstances, people and places. Each had a consequence that would change my trajectory.  There was nothing strategic about it. No guidance and no support. I really was falling into new chapters, hoping that it would all work out in the end. Eventually, it did.  But it was messy.

Consequently, I still to this day have a niggle about the time and energy that was wasted as a result of my ‘pinball years’  Maybe this is a part of aging, a constant looking back and re evaluating chosen paths. Perhaps this also explain my tenacity and impatience. One thing is clear, a mentor would have been invaluable to me back then.

For me, as I will explain, big choices were forced upon me. These had a massive ripple effect. Which if I’m being honest, I still feel and think about a great deal nearly 25 years on. At the time it broke me and my heart, more than once. It was chaotic and emotionally debilitating. But let me back up a little.

The Summer of 2000. I was 21, I had my brand new first class degree with honours and a place for my MA at one of the best, (if not the best art college in the world) Central Saint Martin’s.

When I re-read that sentence it is a positive sentence. I should have been excited and filled with possibility. But in truth, I was battling.

Here’s why. I grew up in an abusive home. To share this small statement is huge for me. There are the obvious feelings of shame that linger and an obvious want to not share such sad, emotionally dark years, with strangers.  I won’t go into details here, there is no real gain.  I also don’t want to trauma dump, it won’t enhance my story of my why, it will merely offer detours and points for readers to pick over.  I will share this however, over the years parts of me have softened whilst others hardened. The part of me that has hardened has lead to estrangement. And this has lead to a softening and overall peace. For me, I couldn’t have one without the other.

I reveal this part of my story to offer an insight into my why, hopefully to give it context and perhaps more clout.

Now back to 2000. Packing up my belongings after three years art college was not only sad in the “closing of a chapter” nostalgic way, it was terrifying. I really didn’t want to return a toxic house. I was starting out, and like most recent graduates I had no money and therefore no option to move out immediately. My graduation came with an inevitable sense of dread that I would need to submit into this deeply unfortunate and unique situation. I knew I was very much on my own, not only in living through it, but also I had no one to share it with, no one who could relate. It was a hidden part of me. That Summer passed slowly – a ticking time bomb. I was right to feel anxious and unsettled.

My goal was my MA. It would start in September and it was two year course. The first year was full time, and the second part time – this opened up the option of working three days and playing catch up on the weeekend.  I planned to commute to London for the first year. The second year I would see what part time work I could get with a view to move out.

To cut a long and painful story short, my plan did not work out. Three weeks into my MA I was thrown out. It was a weekday. I had college the next day and my belongings were suddenly dumped on the drive way.

This was the start of a new trajectory.
The pin ball machine had begun and I was thrown into the next chapter.

Somehow I made it through college. In fact I got one of the highest grades of that year. I share this not as a brag, but because I think it says a lot about me.
However, despite the good grades and it being a life ambition of mine to attend CSM, I did not thrive at college (my twenties were not thriving years) I was stubborn, refusing to give up on my dream. But I was also deeply angry and hurt.  My anger wasn’t healthy nor sustainable.  At the time it kept me focussed and on track to gaining the best result I could, even when I was my most weighed down. I moved onwards- slowly but constantly.  Yet I always felt like I was close to a breaking point.

So another Graduation came and went and once again I had used all my mental capacity on surviving college.  I hadn’t, despite how crazy this may sound, thought about what I wanted to do after college.  I didn’t have head space, plus I was a professional of blocking things out and ploughing ahead. I hadn’t had any thoughts on my future, when you are trying to survive London on no money and even less sleep I’m not sure the mind can contemplate the future. And no one had asked. As a consequence I spent years stuck in this survival mode. I was in free fall again. Another new trajectory had started and again with no guidance.

It can take time to rectify your course and get back on the right path. I’m not saying detours aren’t valuable. They are. See here my post about my time in Cape Town – a massive geographical detour that served me well –  but let’s call it what it was – it was free fall,  a looking for a space to belong – which thankfully worked out for a period.  But not all of them lead us to where we are aiming.

In recent years I have spent a couple of terms working with third year students at various art colleges and universities. In their final term I can’t help but feel a mix of excitement and anxiety for them. Of course I am partly projecting because of my own bumpy start  Their new chapters are approaching and the vulnerability that comes from that I can feel viscerally at points. I relive moments of my past after sessions. I would hate for any student to feel as I was during that last term. Yet some students seamlessly move onto the next step. I am left in awe of their confidence and bravery.  However, I would say this is the minority, especially for those who graduate from the Arts.  For many, the Summer post graduating is one of their hardest chapters to date.  Applying endlessly for jobs and sending out fresh folios eager for commissions. It’s hard, and it can feel hopeless at points.

Mentors can guide, nudge, suggest a reconfiguring if need be to get back on course.
Share their learnings, invaluable social capital, introductions to relevant networks, offer advice on new chapters, challenge preconceived self beliefs, ask the big questions and check in on the small stuff.

All of this is priceless.

Mentors are still part of the pin ball years, but each interaction can take the mentee in a more considered direction, that no doubt will lead somewhere with more of a purpose, plan or goal.

Who doesn’t benefit from that that? I think we all do. Especially young creatives starting out.

Clearly that Summer left its scars on me. Yet rather than see my past as a negative, I’d rather learn from what I had needed desperately back then.  If I can help someone’s trajectory in any small way I will. A conversation can lead to a shift in thoughts, attitudes etc that can go on and change a life. In sharing this part of me I hope it’s clear just how deeply important this is to me.

This my why.

To book a 1 hour mentor session on Zoom – click here.