Thursday, January 16, 2014

Mistaken Identity

When we’re growing up the big question is “What do you want to be when you grow up?”  Everyone asks.  I don’t know why, really.  It’s just something to say, I suppose.  But for us kids (or me, anyway) it was the first snowflake in a snowball of anxiety and insecurity. 

I remember drawing a picture of myself singing into a microphone when I was in 1st grade because I truly believed that I had that kind of Mariah-esque quality and that I was bound for stardom.  My plan was simple and easy then.  I’m not sure at exactly what point I realized I wasn’t quite that talented and that I should consider other non-Diva related careers…maybe junior high or high school.  That’s when the big bad question started to seem more pressing (like if you screwed this up you might as well just give up on life and beg for cigarettes on a street corner with the other hookers).
It’s more than just THE question though. There are these unspoken questions pressing up behind it:  Are you smart enough?  Are you talented enough?  Are you driven?  Will your life’s work make a difference?  Will you be rich?  Will you be glamorous?  Will you be interesting?
It’s a lot of pressure.  You’re trying to define some future self you don’t even really know and it’s like you’re creating some false image for people that you can only hope will come true.  But that’s the other thing: you’re in high school so you’re pretty sure it will all come true and that this amazing you-ten-years-from-now is a total bad A.
We set ourselves up.  We make dreams that we don’t even understand.  We pin such a huge part of our identity on a life we know almost nothing about.
I, personally, had a lot riding on my “dreams.”  Once I figured out that I have nowhere near the vocal range and pure awesomeness that is Mariah Carey’s voice, I set out to find a new dream.  And I wanted something cool and interesting and smart and well-paying and meaningful.  I wanted people to know what I was planning to do with my life because it would mean that I was cool and interesting and smart and well-off and led a life of meaning.  To me, that career was counseling. 
So I did what any determined girl desperately seeking to fulfill her bad A future self would do.  I became a counselor.  Now, this is the part at the end of a Disney movie where the pretty girl meets the handsome prince and they live happily ever after, the end.  Only it wasn’t the end.  It was just the beginning of discovering all that this fantasy dream entailed.  
To be totally truthful, I was proud to tell people I was a counselor.  It felt impressive, like I’d actually accomplished something really cool and interesting and meaningful.  It was an outward identity that made me feel like I was worth something.  The day-to-day struggles of my actual job were almost outweighed by the internal good feelings of worth I felt for having “made it.”  I didn’t want to let go of my special identity.  I didn’t want to have to be like everyone else after having worked so hard.  I didn’t want to walk away from this idea of myself I’d been striving to obtain for so long. 
Why?  Because I internalized the message “you’re only as good as your job” at a young age.  Doctors are smart.  Bankers are rich.  Celebrities are glamorous.  Teachers are important.  The list goes on.  We make jokes about people working at McDonalds and Walmart.  Why?  Oh, probably because they aren’t the “sort” of people who deserve good jobs.  They’re dumb and poor and unimportant, right?
The last thing I ever wanted to be was dumb or poor or unimportant.  I was terrified of having anyone think that of me.  I spent my entire life trying to prove to everyone that I was, in fact, too good to be any of those things.   And, to me, having a job without an impressive title felt like announcing to the world that I was a monumental failure…that I was actually dumb and poor and unimportant.
Let’s fast-forward to today.  I don’t like to advertise this but if you’ve read this far I will reward you with a confessional nugget:  I’m working at a call center.  SHAME!!  That’s not even a joke.  I’m actually kind of ashamed of myself right now.  And here’s the worst part: I like it.  I like it a lot.  It’s a really cool business and the people I’m working with are probably the best co-workers I’ve ever had.  I feel like I can be myself.  I don’t have loads of anxiety.  I can relax when I get home.  My hours are great.  I feel like I’m doing a great job at it and I actually like talking to our customers.  This is easily the most enjoyable job I have ever had.
However, I’m going to qualify all that positivity that by adding my internal chatter to the mix.
“You paid X amount for a graduate degree and all you have to show for it is a job at a call center?”
“You’re a failure because you didn’t keep counseling.”
“You’re career is not impressive or interesting to others therefore you are not impressive or interesting to others.”
“You could get a job making more money if you just went back to counseling.”
“You’re work life isn’t making a difference in the world.”
“You are dumb and poor and unimportant.”

That last one is kind of the kicker for me.  I’m still anxious about the grown-ups asking me what I’m doing with my life.  Will I disappoint them?  Will I reveal that I am actually a pretty lame individual devoid of brains, talent, or passion?  Will I prove to them that I don’t matter after all?
I don’t have the answers.  Part of me says I’m pretty crazed and insecure and the other part of me knows that I’m not the only one that thinks this way.  How could I have learned it if not for the world teaching it to me?
There’s no great way to tie this up in a pretty bow.  As you can see, I’m in strange spot.  I’m fighting with myself, asking myself what I really believe here, and trying to be happy in spite of all the negative messages I’ve taken to heart.   I’ll tell you a couple things and leave it at that.

1 I'm finally happy at work
2 I feel a little bit ashamed of myself for being satisfied with something that doesn't clearly identify me as the person I want you to think I am.....good enough.

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