Just a Match Begging for Fire
Ever wanted to flip the table on your own life? Wouldn’t that be so satisfying? Even if it means you end up with a mess. On the other hand, you also end up with an empty table. And then you get to sort through what’s on the floor and where you put it: back on the table, in the trash. In a totally different place.
Sometimes I worry I don’t give myself enough time to settle in and truly develop — in a job, a town, a trip, a relationship. I have a very obvious and consistent internal clock — for better or for worse — and it’s hard to decide if that’s helping or holding me back. Probably both (she says, as a Gemini, who may have missed her calling to be a killer lawyer because she can argue any side to a story).
Speaking of missed callings, what if we believed in and promoted going after those whispers of other life paths to see if they could become louder shouts of the future, instead of shunning them to the graveyard of opportunities past, allowing them to haunt and heckle us through sounds of self-doubt?
Enough with the metaphors (kidding, this entire post is a run-on metaphor). Maybe you’ve felt this way before: I’m not doing what I’m supposed to be doing. I’m doing what I’m good at. Well I’m really tired of being good at something and getting nothing for it (nothing by way of a paycheck, stability, friendships, and other things I’m #grateful for, I swear). But if you’ve been within earshot of me the past few months you’ve heard me proclaim:
“I’m almost 30 and I haven’t failed! And I’m not proud of that fact!”
This truly is not acceptable from this point on. I haven’t failed, and I definitely haven’t done things that matter — which is also unacceptable, given how quick our time can pass here.
A while ago I read this line: “a certain amount of self-undoing is necessary to moving forward.” No idea where it’s from. Google is no help (gasp!). But I almost like it better that way. I read it, I wrote it in my notes app on my phone. And now I reference it like the permission slip I’ve always needed to go ahead with a rebuilding effort.
Up until now I was always focused on and intrigued by all the ways I could weave through the world, spinning up a spool of life that made sense only for me. It’s resulted in a really unique assortment of things, labels, memories, people, skills, ideas, and decisions — each one mattering completely to the next and connecting in a way that wouldn’t have been possible if even the smallest piece was missing. I would never opt for changing anything, which in turn does *not* mean that I have no regrets. (More on that here and later.)
But I do think it’s time now to start letting some of that stuff fall away. It’s been interesting to feel this bubbling up recently, manifesting in different ways. I physically seem to collect a lot of clutter, and recently I’ve started downsizing on literal things. I think this started because I was looking for clarity. What do I really want, need, use. It’s resulted in some successful purges. Some really light, but conscious, choices to procure less. It’s led to a mental thirst for the same clarity of self. What do I really want/need to be? What is cluttering who I am in a way that’s making it hard to answer that question?
It’s here, in that question, that I’ve decided I can’t keep building up from here. I need to start ripping some things away to see what’s left. You know how some trees start flaking their bark away to reveal smooth, almost raw layers underneath? I’m ready to be raw. And I’d stick with raw instead of “fresh” or “new.” Raw has an element of exposure. Raw skin can get hurt — it’s not resistant yet. It’s not resilient. There’s a risk that something raw can be damaged or take a while to heal…
So, you’ve flipped the table. You’ve acknowledged and accepted the mess, and your role in figuring out how to clean it up. Some people are probably really pragmatic about this. And efficient. I don’t know about you, but cleaning something up never looks the same for me. I’m laughing at myself and the memories of those moments when I’ve let my room get to that point beyond messiness, and the drawn-out process of getting it back to a clean square one. It starts with “eh I’m too tired to put that laundry away” and ends with shit everywhere. Chaos. The tipping point? I’ve noticed that I usually get beyond frustrated with the filth when I’ve looked for something (a bra, a skirt, a pair of earrings) a handful of times to no avail that I drop everything and start cleaning immediately (even at 8am one day recently, sacrificing being on time for work.)
Sometimes I can power through it in one push (RARE). Sometimes it takes days of me deciding on one thing or area to focus on until little by little shit is in the right place again (typical). Sometimes I spend a month and a half focusing so intently on one specific habit, instead of the larger, overwhelming issue (TBT #CleanChairChallenge). Sometimes I have to call in backup (honestly no one keeps me on task with a room clean like my mother — what a skill). Sometimes I clean a little bit, I start looking at old cards or old photos and get completely distracted for hours and have to admit defeat to the gods of time (last week).
My favorite part of the process? No matter the path or how long it takes me to get everything sorted, I almost NEVER find what I was actually looking for, and then it turns up days/weeks/months later completely by accident. What? Another metaphor? I warned you.
The tipping point is real, though. And it’s a tangible feeling — you can feel something changing. The difference between situations continuing as they are and circumstances forcing a shift. I personally can’t feed the mess anymore. I can’t give anymore to anyone or anything else. I need to feed myself. I need to give something back to me. I need to clean up.
I haven’t felt like a whole person. I don’t know that I ever have, but I do know that it suddenly bothers me that I don’t right now. I’m stressed and drained — not because my work is too hard or overwhelming. I think that will always be the case in some way. I think what comes through more right now is worrying that I’m wasting what I have and that I’m being irresponsible — with my time, energy, ideas, intentions, love, skills, etc.
It’s with this realization that I’ve decided a full-time, 9–5 job is not the most positive environment for me at this time (bury the lede a little more next time, Rogowski). I need to put myself first. And I need to stop waiting for an invitation to do the work I want to do or believe in doing (or am afraid to do?). The structure isn’t serving me. There’s no space or need for being independent. I have no control.
Work/life balance is hilarious because on paper I rarely work more than 45 hours a week. I travel. I see and interact with people I care about often. I have hobbies, a side job. I do stuff. Sometimes I veg out. But what concerns me is I’m not able to be an active citizen in society. I’m shut off. I don’t think I’m a good friend or family member (don’t tell me I am! You already know my own expectations are beyond negotiation). At the end of the day, I’m not proud of what I’m doing. And that’s not okay, as a person who has always been very cognizant of my ethics and tuned in to “what’s important.”
I’ve climbed a very intricate mental jungle gym trying to figure out how to make OutCast fit my needs because it’s the smartest, kindest, raddest group of humans on the planet. Thinking back to a conversation I had with a fellow Edelman DC/NPDCer Dan Alt in the summer of 2016 where he so eloquently and calmly said: “It’s never the right time to leave the people you love.” I cannot say enough about how hard it is to walk away from something feeling like you haven’t made the most of it. But a larger need exists in my world and being able to walk away from something that isn’t serving me, even if I want to keep holding on, is a skill worth developing.
I’m eager for impact. I have an appetite for altruism. I’m working through lingering physical and mental health concerns. I’m seeking control over what I do for passion and for profit. I want to take responsibility for my intentions. And I need the energy to be present.
I have no set, long-term next step because I am not of the right mind to decide that now. I’m not able to devote myself to the work it will take to figure that out while staying where I am. And more importantly, if I stayed and then figured out the next step a. that wouldn’t be a leap and b. that wouldn’t be raw. That would be calculated. That would be building up. That would be adding on without taking away.
But I do know I want to write (could you guess?) and I want to compel people to act and I don’t want to be consumed by the concern that I won’t end up doing something amazing. Another friend, one of the smartest women I know Rachael Griffin, once coached me through understanding that all you can be responsible for is your intention. The result, how someone perceives your actions, how people react — so many other things are beyond your control. But if you believe in your intention, that’s all you can ask for and all you should worry about. So in this moment, with so much unknown, I can say I feel very solid about my intentions behind the decision.
If I’m being truly honest, I think I accepted something two years ago that I shouldn’t have. I was doing a GREAT job at seamlessly uprooting my life and moving from coast to coast “the right way.” I sold myself into a role and a world I wasn’t sure I was qualified to be in. I convinced myself that was better than coming out with nothing. In fact, I don’t think I was ready to start with an empty slate. I hadn’t reached the tipping point of self-frustration that propels me into brutal change. I was holding on to all this “stuff” that I thought made me who I was. And I let self-doubt and the need for validation drive my decision-making process — which is okay (I don’t want it to seem like I’m shitting on myself in this post, I’m just reveling in an extended moment of self-criticism which is extremely productive).
Ultimately, back in the summer of 2016 I worked toward one thing (a fresh, “new” life) and accepted something different (a job that was more-or-less the same as the one I was leaving behind) instead of fighting for what I really wanted (independence), most likely because of fear (of failure). Or because I didn’t know how to fight. Or because I didn’t believe that I deserved it. But I know I do, now. I just wish I believed it then and along the way. I regret not fighting for “it.” I’m learning that I regret not fighting for myself in many situations and I don’t like how that manifests emotionally in a way that has felt unproductive in the past. But here we are and we’re growing and it’s fine.
Even if I don’t know how to fight yet, I know I need to be able to stand up for myself and I know how and when to get out of my own way. So why haven’t I put my trust and my investment in myself?
Tangent time! When I was hiking the Trail du Mont Blanc last month, people kept asking me “what are you training for?” I thought this question was bizarre, at first. Why do I have to be training for something?? After a few days passed, I realized I was training for the next time I had a stupid idea like this (I say stupid with love because it was the BEST idea ever, but it really was pure lunacy in all the right ways). And I thought that conclusion was pretty clever (if nothing else I typically find myself very entertaining, so there’s that). To build on this conclusion, I realized I like doing things I haven’t done before, and that I’d rather wonder if I was crazy than know I was boring.
Another question that drove me crazy for a while came after that whole ER situation back in April. You know, the one that could have turned out really badly. A common reaction to that was for people to say, assumingly, “wow, you must have had one of those — life is short — revelations, right?!” And honestly, I did not. You shouldn’t have to end up in the ER for that kind of trigger. I’m lucky in that I learned a lot of these kinds of “life lessons” early on. Not because I had some tragic upbringing or anything other than your regular hiccup here and there. But I suppose I was able to observe each experience I did have, no matter how small, with a magnifying glass. Deep inspection on every day, every person was/is the subconscious norm. Why did this happen, what did that person mean, what do I think about this, what should I do now. This, plus a zillion other questions, must have been burned into my brain before birth because I don’t know any other way to live than to question everything. And in these cases, it was questioning without self-conscious, internal finger pointing. It’s questioning without exhaustion. And usually it’s questioning without paralysis and indecision (usually. Sometimes a self-pep talk is needed to keep me moving.). The questions come from wanting to understand, not wanting to blame.
With this questioning, I never really felt like something was my fault, unless I had a specific hand in the situation. This helped create a unique perspective for everything and a strong sense of accountability: my own, and what it meant for others to have that characteristic as well. It’s what helped me realize what it meant to see someone playing the victim of their own life. It framed what the fallout was to live that kind of lifestyle. It defined what the scale was like and scared me from ever feeling passive about what was happening to me, instead of active in terms of what was happening because of me.
This perspective drives my opinion that to think life can stop in its tracks, or that you have time to kill, is a passive dream that puts you in the backseat of a car that only has 1 seat: for the driver. If you’re not in that spot, you’re not even in the car (METAPHORS).
When going through the last 5+ months, I realized while we sometimes hope for some bigger meaning or sign to be the next big spark for change or revelation, it’s not always warranted. When I turned 27 I said: go big or go bigger. At 28 I said: be bold or be bolder. At 29 I say: allow yourself to be disrupted. Whatever you thought you believed or wanted, hang on to that with a grip that is unwavering, but not inflexible or unforgiving. Will or be willing. Make it happen or be willing to…let it happen. Act or observe. Own it or know why you aren’t and what happens if you don’t. Part of this, at its root, lies in keeping the curiosity.
So, am I really crazy for quitting without a clue? No way. And neither are the smart as hell people who have done it before me (and coached me through the past few weeks/months) and neither are the people who do it next (will it be you?). We can all make money, so whatever your excuses are, don’t get stuck there.
At the end of the day, it’s as simple as leaving people wondering: “what’s that girl up to?” and myself asking “what’s next?”
Whether it’s missed callings, hard pivots, crazy adventures, or fresh starts, I think we all owe it to ourselves to find those moments of raw exposure to an unknown outcome. I think we all need a challenge to find failure. And I think we all deserve the skills to fight for ourselves.
Listening: “A Better Son/Daughter” — Rilo Kiley
Reading: “Imagine It Forward” — Beth Comstock
Watching: “I’m Sorry” — Netflix. (h/t Kaelan)
