Dear Future Me,
Lately–and by “lately” I mean the last six months–I have had significant trouble managing my stress level–and by “managing” I mean, refraining from completely freaking out. My anxiety is up and bounding around, chewing on the rug and leaving too much hair on the furniture. I am the living embodiment of betwixt and between. I can assure you, it isn’t pretty.
Why, you may ask, have I come to this state? I have stepped away from the kind of career I’d always imagined for myself; a career in which I do interesting research for not much money. This is what I have been “trained” to do, and what I used to do. Kids, a husband with a demanding work life, and a recent cancer diagnosis clearly make this unworkable for me. I have tried numerous times to balance this kind of work with family and health and its not happening.
Ok. fine.
So: how do I go out and choose another objective? Fling myself into the world in hopes of taking the shape of something else? I have ideas about what that something else might be, but the flinging is going really poorly. Mostly this subpar performance is a function of the fact that I am paralyzed…from the head down (which makes typing this post even more amazing than it otherwise would be). I can see people around me who are making it work, which makes my homunculus fret. I’m confident that you can’t swing a dead cat without hitting someone who is successfully transitioning to a new job, or re entering the job market after taking off time to be with their family. Who are these magical people, and how can I become one of them?
I can’t find a way to be one of these unicorn-riding fairy-people because I am stuck. I am apprehensive about changing my current routine because I’m not quite sure about the benefits of some new, unknown position. This is true even though I am well acquainted with the costs. The most conspicuous of which is the obvious (semi)permanent damage to the young ones–a natural consequence of my absence that has been loudly shared with me in the past (“Mommy, you are NEVER home!!”).
I’m pretty sure that these kinds of accusations are thrown at me when I go out for groceries and am gone longer than expected. But when I had an office job and the complaints were completely true, it felt soul crushing. I’m also uncomfortable maintaining my current station which allows for a fair amount of time for work on writing and music. These things are interesting, and engaging, but don’t lead anywhere, or more pointedly, to anyone (other than back to me). Sure, the happiness these activities foster trickles down to my kids, and the focus on music has real benefits for their practice habits with their own instruments. But the absence of a connection to something larger than myself is gnawing at me. Its almost ironic how effective the incisors on this absence seem to be.
This kind of discomfort should be ample kindling to ignite the conflagration that will jettison me…but its not. There’s nary a spark. I am regrettably the opposite of a fire hazard. I’m more like a collection of fire retardants; a collection of fire retardants that are stuck somehow…more like quick sand. That’s right, I’m human quick sand.
I need a strategy to overcome myself. How to move forward with the paralyzed, flinging, gnawed, uncomfortable quick sand of my nature? Often, when confronted with disconcerting feelings I (1) ignore them, (2) treat them roughly in an effort to make them go away, (3) ignore them. I’ve already applied a fair dose of #1 & #3…which may be why I’m down this sinkhole to begin with.
This time I’ve opted for #2. I plan to use this nifty trick in which I contrast my extremely fortunate position with possible fates I could have suffered had I been born in another time. This comparison will highlight for me how relatively minuscule my fears are. The historical period: 16th century England. I’m reading this book about the children of Henry VIII. If you are at all a student of history, then you know that England in the 1500s is a dangerous place to live. The (seemingly?) accepted level of violence in society is shocking. One minute the Queen is sipping tea from finely made china, and the next she’s having a heretic burned at the stake in front of a raucous audience. I tell myself that I can make a few phone calls and send out a couple of resumes–and whatever the outcome of my process, it pales in comparison to the option of having Queen Mary get her friars to round me up for a roast (although this particular example is compromised by the fact that as human quicksand, I’d like to see her try to even tie me to the stake! Take that Bloody Mary!).
Although I’m 1000% positive the use of historical comparison will effectively move me back into the workplace, I’ll report back on my progress…..soon.
Yours,
Me