Part Two - What I Did Until I Didn't

 

PART TWO — WHAT I DID UNTIL I DIDN’T

(UNTIL I BURNT OUT) 

Doing full time art in every available hour around employment

Sweden → Newlook → Curiosity Shop → Charity Years → Burnout

2008–2013 (Age 35–40) — Return from Sweden → Newlook, Round Two

When I came back from Sweden, I went straight back into Newlook for another five years. The first time I’d been on an eight hour contract;( 20 staff to run the shop)  the second time I was technically zero hour (10 staff to run the shop) but doing twenty hours spread across the week, that constantly changed to keep us employed in one place because you could fulfill two contracts (that was always subject to change) finally minimum wage (law)  - stretched thin over maximum emotional labor, Zero hours are now lucky long gone. 

My last pay day the government had juts made all work places pay into a pension, and the first time.  In my previous term - the 1st five years was £450 shares payout or keep -  A trip to New York with Beck — a tiny rebellion funded by corporate crumbs.  No financial advice to whether a good choice or a bad but ill take life experience.

The job itself was the usual retail grind: an unpaid hour before opening, an unpaid hour after closing, and you do it because your manager is your friend and you won’t let her stand there alone doing free labour. 

On my final day, I told a customer exactly what I thought of her, gave her my name, and told her to call Head Office. There’s only so much “be nice” you can do for just under minimum wage (1st time employed) Now just minimum before something in you snaps. Shop work is the job you do until you absolutely cannot do it anymore — and that was the moment I didn’t.

2013–2014 (Age 40–41) — The Curiosity Shop 

(Paid as an Artist)

My best friend and I had huge ambition, huge love, huge quality — but not business brains. We opened The Curiosity Shop, a little shared dream built on custom furniture, curated goods, craft classes, and the idea of craft parties for hen dos, birthdays, weddings. We had a few months’ rent saved, and the cold garage like space was full of fun and possibility, but art doesn’t pay unless you’re lucky. We could afford the premises but not ourselves. We could run classes but couldn’t afford heating. We needed financial backing we didn’t have, and life trajectories began to shift: Janine started studying, and the dream couldn’t stretch far enough to cover the bills. The shop closed before more grandchildren arrived, but the identity — artist  work — stayed.

2014–2017 (Age 41–44) — Charity Shop (First Time)

I’ve always kept my life cheap so I could afford art materials and charity shops were my natural habitat. I was already volunteering, whilst at NL and my over the top work ethic meant it wasn’t long before I was employed full time.

One day off became two, and the hours bent around my life so I could look after my grandson twice a week once he was born. Full time meant eight till three, standing all day, doing the job of five people. And I loved it — my second favourite job ever. 

But I learned the truth about charities: not every donation goes where people think, staff discounts on donated goods are technically stealing, and minimum wage comes with maximum responsibility. I was running the place alone many days — illegal levels of responsibility — but left to my own devices I thrived. I built a team of five volunteers, plus extras, and we were brilliant in chaos. They thrived with me. 

But perimenopause began to show, juggling became harder, and then charity funding was cut. Shop closures were announced. I was heartbroken — I can’t do goodbyes — and everyone left. Another ending I didn’t choose.

2017–2019 (Age 44–46) — The In Between Year

My daughter was working at Estée Lauder , and I looked after Willoughby two days a week. I searched for work again. It was a short break, but not really a break — ND life doesn’t pause, it just shifts shape.

2019–2020 (Age 46–47) — Charity Shop (Second Time) → Burnout

I took another charity job, but it wasn’t the same. Dark, dingy, rule heavy, no shine. The manager lived between two countries and I was left alone too often. My ND balance collapsed — I dropped all my balls. Burnout arrived quietly and then loudly. I quit the start of 2020, just before the world shut down. Partly hate, partly ND clarity — I left then because I couldn't see the fairness of a charity paying me whist I did nothing! - Fool I know no. Lock-down began, sealing the end of that chapter.

What This Section Represents

Part Two is the hinge (or unhinged) : retail exhaustion, burnout, charity chaos, and burnout again. It’s the chapter where I began shifting from jobs to survive into work that matches who I am and still getting it completely wrong.

I decided enough was enough, My turn but sadly it would take five more years of my life, before I was able to start full time art.

Then I hit the Menopauseal Wall