18. The Actual Interview
Musings about cultivating community, and the experience of my first professional interview
Hello Beautiful Human,
How was your week? I have been in Michigan visiting my best friends from college, and Tug and I are having a truly wonderful time. We have adventured up the dunes of Lake Michigan and swum in its pristine and oh-so-turquoise waters. Our days have been jam-packed and all the while, with their kids in tow, my friends and I have talked. With love, intrigue, and insatiable curiosity, we have devoured each other's company, savoring each and every second we can. We’ve even done this amidst toddler tantrums which, let me tell you, says it all. Each night, I have crashed into bed, my heavy eyelids drooping and marveled at how joyful my exhaustion feels. I can’t stop thinking about the gift of these people and the connection we share between us.
For me, community, above all else, is luxury. While society believes luxury is a massive home, private jet, and beachfront property, I wholly disagree. I believe luxury is having a community fostered in deep connection – a connection that makes you feel seen, heard, and loved, exactly as you are in that moment and always. Sadly, I think that the reality of existence – one of true community and connection – is increasingly rare. Today, most humans are disconnected and divided and the more we retreat into our phones and homes upon not feeling connected while out in the world, the more we perpetuate the very lack of community we so desperately seek.
When I think about this one precious life of mine and the many seasons of self I have lived through, the times I lived without community were the hardest times of all. I’ve said it before and I will say it many times again – I almost died of loneliness, not mental illness. And as I turned 36 this week, I set a new intention for this next year of mine – to help build this space into even more of a community – one that eradicates loneliness and instead, fosters connection.
With this intention in mind, I channeled my own kind curiosity this week and built out a list of questions for you, my community. My hope is that by getting your input as I think about additional ways to empower a more meaningfully connected community, we can grow toward it even faster. Please note – you will have to click through to substack.com or the app for your vote to be tallied, but I would appreciate it if you would do so. With a massive thank you, in advance…
Thank you so much for taking the time to answer these! And don’t hesitate to send through any other ideas or feedback by emailing hi@katespeer.com.
Now, without further ado… the next chapter and some behind-the-scenes photos of Tuggie in Michigan for paid subscribers.
18. The Actual Interview
Anxiety is a fickle foe. It manifests in innumerable ways throughout the body and mind and, more often than not, as it transforms with ease like a chameleon, it takes over, swallowing you whole before you are even aware of it. As I walked up the stairs to my interview with Bob Drake’s colleague that day, I felt my anxiety pulsing within me. I was no stranger to this feeling, of course. Anxiety first appeared in my life decades earlier and had been near me constantly ever since. But my anxiety was not formally diagnosed, even then, so as my legs turned to jelly and the onset of a panic attack set in, I had no tools to use or knowledge to apply to ease my symptoms.
My anxiety first showed up in kindergarten but it didn’t manifest in me like it did in other children. While most anxious kids were shy and quiet, my anxiety made me loud and impulsive. Too overwhelmed by the fear rising within me, I would raise my voice and act out. Adults could not understand my behavior – why I spoke in screams and yells and only now do I see with clarity that little Kate was screaming in terror – yelling over and over again for someone to be there with her in her fear. But unfortunately, the exact opposite happened. My fear was shamed and punished because it appeared to be a child out of line. And so again and again, I was put in time out or punished as I screamed in fear, and over time, I began to truly believe that neither my fear nor I was welcome in the world.
As I walked up the stairs to Bob Drake’s office hoping that this was going to be the very place that welcomed me fully, the panic attack took hold. I gripped the staircase for dear life as my heart raced, vision blurred, and mind ignited on absolute fire. In a matter of moments, I descended into the madness of a panic attack and lost myself in a doom spiral of full-body chaos and paralyzing self-doubt for the next twenty minutes. I don’t know exactly how the panic attack ended but I came to on the floor at the bottom of the stairway, my perfectly ironed black dress crumpled beneath me. As I processed my surroundings, red-hot shame, and embarrassment flooded my face. Had I missed the interview? Was it all ruined? Of course, it was. You absolute fuck up, Kate.
Rummaging in my pocket, I found my phone and was met with a pleasant surprise as I read the time. The interview was in 1 minute. I hadn’t missed it. Run Kate Run! Grasping the railing, I pulled myself up quickly and sprinted up the stairs and down the hall toward the beautiful loft-like space. Bob Drake beamed in the doorway as I ran toward him apologizing loudly for not being there earlier. He brushed off my apology with a question about how I was feeling and as I mentioned feeling a bit nervous, he gave me the gift of a perspective that would serve me for years to come. “Please don’t apologize for being nervous. It’s great that you are nervous. It means that you care. And what is more beautiful than caring?” I marveled at his words for a moment and then channeled their wisdom and my many dress rehearsals as I walked forward, hand outstretched making eye contact before shaking hands with the woman who had the potential to become my very first boss.
~
The interview miraculously passed uneventfully. In a twist of good luck, the woman had also gone to Middlebury College like I had, so we had ample common ground and all sorts of memories to share that filled any awkward silences. Discussing our shared love of the school, we talked such that the conversation hardly felt like an interview. We talked about my favorite classes and professors. She asked about my grades and what I had enjoyed learning. After about twenty minutes of casual conversation, she began to share a bit about her project and the plan to build out an app to connect individuals with serious mental illness to their care and employment teams. As she shared more and more details, I couldn’t contain my smile. What she described was exactly what I had always dreamt of for patients in the mental health space – an app to aggregate everything so that everyone was connected and forever in the loop.
As I lit up even more, her curiosity peaked and she probed with interest about what was making me smile so brightly. Without even thinking about the repercussions of sharing my lived experience with serious mental illness, I launched into a lengthy story about how deeply patients needed this app. I then went on to share how I had built my own version of what she discussed at Middlebury with binders, spreadsheets, and email templates for all my professors. I shared examples of what email templates looked like – both for me and my professors – and pulled up a graphic of communication pathways that each professor had been given to see who to contact in different scenarios and health emergencies. I then went on to talk about how I used data to record and track my symptoms so that my care team could have a longitudinal understanding of my symptoms. As I continued to elaborate on how I had systemized my care and streamlined data recording efforts to track my symptoms, her eyes widened more and more. When I finally finished talking, she too was smiling and without hesitation, said excused herself saying that she would be right back with Bob Drake.
Deeply puzzled by the combination of her smile and the exit, I tried not to dive into worst-case scenarios. Tapping my feet, I became obsessed with the creases in my dress as my mind began to race. How could I have worn a dress that wrinkled so aggressively? Did it look terrible? It must look terrible. And how could I have told her all about being so sick? Kate you absolute piece of shit. She must be getting Bob to soften the news.
I flattened my dress and its wrinkles compulsively and after a few minutes consumed with self-loathing, I began to count to pass the time. One one thousand, two one thousand, three one thousand…. I only made it to 47 before they returned and tried to find comfort in the fact that they were both smiling widely. The woman settled again into her chair and Bob slowly pulled up the armchair from the corner. It took seemingly forever for them to get seated and the whole thing felt entirely odd. As the silence continued, my anxiety grew. Just as anxious sweat trickled down my back and panic again began to rise in my chest, Bob handed me a short stack of papers and a pen. And right then and there – even with my very crumpled dress – even after I shared all about my debilitating mental illness – they offered me my first professional job. And that day, sweat-soaked and smiling, I took it.
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Now, as promised, it is time to enjoy beautiful Northern Michigan through my lens and Tuggie’s cuteness.