Quo Vadimus

If you haven't already, you really need to watch Sports Night.  Aaron Sorkin probably has his issues, but he gets it right so very often.  In this episode, Quo Vadimus , the staff are forced to consider the questions of "where are we going?" and "where am I going?"   It isn't always pretty, but it is always powerful.

And, that's the question that confronts me.  What's next?  Where am I going?  The universe is giving me sign after sign that I need to answer these questions.  I know that I need new challenges, and yet, I feel like I have boxed myself in.  Or perhaps I need new challenges, and I am adequately rooted that I can take risks.  Or something in between. 

Is this the same question as "where do I belong?"  Perhaps moving on is more like moving forward, and does not require leaving. (She said, with hope in her heart.)  I do know a few things.  I love academia, even though it will drive a person right 'round the bend sometimes.  I love philanthropy and nonprofits and people who work to change the world. 

I want to live in the south again, I'm pretty sure.  I definitely -maybe- want to be out of DeKalb.  it certainly wouldn't pain me to never again experience a midwestern winter.  And yet, it's not that simple.  I also feel rooted here.  I love my house.  It's in no shape to be left, at this point.  But more importantly, leaving it would feel like unfinished business.  I have friends and commitments here.  But the friends I would carry with me, right?

How do you know when you're rooted and how do you distinguish that from being stuck?  The first must come with a feeling of peace and contentment, and the latter must come with a feeling of frustration or at least resignation. But these feelings aren't binary; that's the facile dream of self-help books.  This is real, and the feelings are mixed.

In the meantime, I am proceeding as though I am both staying and leaving.  THIS is a little crazy-making!

Leave the Light on.... for myself when I come home

It's a song.... but it's something I'm trying to remember

My house can feel more like a pit stop than a home.  It's lost its grace and warmth and welcome, and it stresses me out to be here.  What's worse, is that it looks kind of scary.  I noticed this morning.  I walk with the dog very early in the morning, while it's still dark.  In the dark, the human eye can not register color.   So, all I could see of my house was the shape, the windows, and the trees and plants in silhouette.  It sits rather far forward on the lot, which made it seem not just dark, but looming.  And the image made me think of a witch's house, and not in a comforting earth-mother-witch sort of way. 

I don't want to live in THAT house.  I want to live in a graceful, welcoming, warm house.  A house with soft edges, if you will.  So, even though it's not the most environmentally friendly decision, I'm making some changes around here.  I'm going to leave some lights on for myself.  A friend sent me a smart outlet to try out, which has convinced me to buy more.  It's easy to have the lights turn on and off at certain times, and it's nice to come home to a house that appears to be lived in.

I've thought a lot about using smart home technology to feel safer, or to be more organized, or to have more privacy.  But to welcome myself home, that's new territory.

Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire

I do this thing.  I tell lies - to myself.

Sometimes the lies are comparatively small.  For instance,  even when I was quite athletic, I told
myself that strength training was not for me.  I tried it, and never saw improvement.  I see now that I wasn't willing to work hard enough.  And I know now that "hard enough" is plenty darn hard.  It turns out that when I train correctly, my body works like everyone else's.  I get stronger.

I tell myself that I can not run - roughly for the same reasons.  I don't try hard enough.  And I suppose that I don't have to; there are plenty of other forms of cardio that do the same thing and that I do like.  It's the language of "can't" that's worrisome here.  Wouldn't it be much more powerful to say "I choose not to."?

Sometimes the lies are more profound.

I told myself I should stay with my husband - that he didn't intend to be so casually cruel.  I worked hard at this one, and I was almost successful.  But, he did intend to be that cruel.  That much is obvious now.  What's worse, I didn't even know that I was lying to myself, although on some level I knew that my emotions and my words were not in alignment.  I could have put it all together, but I endured the life I had because I was afraid I couldn't withstand what was on the other side.  And, by the by, what was on the other side was hideous.  I wasn't wrong about that.  But it is becoming wonderful.  I'm almost handling it  Wonderful is becoming visible on the horizon.

I told myself that I could not manage life on my own.  I continue to tell myself that one, I suppose.  I have stumbled in spectacular ways.  This is undeniable.  But is it really true that I can not manage?  On some level, it doesn't get to be true.  I have to figure this out - and all the options are still in front of me.  And what on earth am I getting from continuing to tell this story?

I think my new favorite is that I am "at capacity-"  that I can't do more.  So, I can't get my eating under control, for instance.  I can't turn my house into the welcoming and calming space it has the potential to be.  I can't be a star in my profession.  I can't keep all the balls in the air; there just isn't enough time.  OK, any person should be selective about the number and general worth of the balls she is juggling.  And I do come home from work plenty tired, but so does everyone else.  But perhaps my dreams need to become more important than TV time.  I need rest and down time, right enough, but seriously.... how many episodes of "This is Us" do I need to watch in one sitting?

The list goes on and on.  But here's the thing.  This incessant chatter of "can't" and "shouldn't" and "nice girls don't," that's the talk of the super-ego.  The super-ego's job is to protect us and to keep our behavior in line with social norms, and what is known is almost always safer than what is unknown.  So, it starts doing its job when change is on the horizon or lands, unwelcome, in our laps.  But the super-ego can be wrong.  There can be false positives, and your whole self -not just your nervous-Nellie-ego- can be brought into a decision.  There's a frontal lobe for a reason ;)

So, from time to time, I need to gently thank this important part of my personality for its interest in my protection, but also tell it to hush for a minute while I think.