So I've found myself on the other side of my intended profession, blacklisted by a former employer with nothing better to do than to smear me. Lots of options lie ahead...lots of thinking...lots of ways to deal and cope and whatnot. But, of course, you know me. I'm never in the present sort of mindset. I'm always looking five years ahead or five years behind, either to recover or discover. I really should stop that. (I'll let you all in on the secret when I figure out how.)
Yet, tonight my mind is in a very unique place. A place it doesn't care to go too often. It reaches out into the spiritual ethos and asks itself what it believes in, what it holds its dreams in. And it asks:
Where are you now, Claudia? Who are you now, Claudia? And what will you do with that identity?
I'm no stranger to shifts in identity- I've met quite a few chameleons in my day. But for myself? Much like priding myself on fighting for my virginity (literally), I have also always prided myself on fighting for my identity. I haven't changed much for other people. I haven't wavered in my wants or desires or felt I needed to give anything up. But now, I'm holding on to something so painful, it hurts to touch. I lived out my childhood dream when I went to college. I wanted to be a big shot, knew where I wanted to be, how I wanted to get there, do it all. Then I did it. And somehow, unfortunately, I ran smack into a wall of abuse...abuse that brought my dream crashing down from the sky.
I suppose it isn't unlike other similar moments in my life- I had dreamt of being spiritually enlightened, and then figured out I was in a cult. I like to think I realized that dream, but I'm noticing the patterns are ending in pain...really traumatic pain. If you achieve your dream, it shouldn't destroy you. Perhaps my dreams have been unrealistic...or something in their attainment has been.
I often wonder about my fellow cult survivors, if they go through this sort of thought process. At first when all this happened with my career, I thought God was punishing me- not for leaving the group, but for walking away from spirituality altogether. This was his way of saying, "Fine, then I'll take something else away from you." It certainly explained why I had this deadly fear that something would happen to my husband before I could be with him as his wife- and why after I lost that job, I packed up everything and moved an entire region away from where I was- just so I could be by his side.
The funny thing is, I never saw that as a romantic thing. I saw it as running away. As soon as I landed on his front doorstep, I started the search again, determined to get back to that "career". I was so driven, so insanely driven to rise above the failure, it was as if it became another crusade, another spiritual quest, upon which I could not give up. I lost sleep. I had trouble eating. I cried a lot. My husband knew what had happened and while he was soothing and supportive, struggled with my need to succeed, my need to be cared for and loved for what I do and not who I am.
What if the problem was, all along, that I equated who I am with what I do?
What if the problem...is...that I equate who I am with what I do?
I can't remember the last time I played my instrument because I enjoyed it. I can't remember the last time I taught someone something because I simply wanted to share knowledge. Fulfillment only seems to come when I've reached the pinnacle of success, achieved the perfect job.
I wonder...if it's possible...could I perhaps...attain fulfillment outside of a career?
Everything in my body tells me no way...I'd be nuts to think anything is more important than employment and a career. And yet...thinking that certain employment options are the only way to be fulfilled is a really unhealthy thought process. When I lost my job, it was as if my whole world went up in flames. I spent months in bed hoping I'd wake up dead. (That's a horrifying thing for a fiancee to face, but my husband did a splendid job helping me out of that hole.) I truly thought my entire life was over. It's not. In fact, I have been careerless for a while now. I've gotten married. I've found things I enjoy. It's not overwhelmingly uplifting or some kind of super psyched-up high, but you know, maybe I've had enough spiritual fulfillment for one lifetime. Maybe I just need to embrace what is rather than weep for what isn't.
I often feel that me on the inside that hungers for another cause...kinda like a justice league member who never made the cut just itching to get out and save the world. I hate that little bugger sometimes, but I have to laugh when I think about it now. What exactly would he fight for? I haven't got a sustaining career or much faith in humanity. Just what is he gonna crusade for now? He's just a rebel without a cause.
Maybe that'll give him some time to settle in and have a cup of tea for a change. Maybe he could get used to not having a cause or a crusade or a whatever. Maybe he could learn to come out to renaissance faires with my husband and I and learn to be not such a rabid part of me. Maybe if someone let him know that he didn't have to keep his super-cape on all the time, he'd feel like he could hang it up once in a while.
Maybe if I let myself not worry about rescuing or even being rescued, that little justice-leaguer could start to learn all those things.
Maybe I could adopt a new slogan. Something like this:
I am on the other side of the fence now.
I am the rebel.
Fuck the cause.
But that's just not me.
Maybe I'm neither.
But that doesn't mean I'm nothing.
Maybe just nothing special.
Shit. Maybe Mom was right- the world actually doesn't revolve around me.
Maybe I was right too- the world can use a brain like mine...in more than one way.
I don't know. I'll give it some time.
But for now, I'm hanging up my fix-it belt and my super-cape.
