in search of identity

"A veterinarian."

I was that kid who knew exactly what she wanted to be when she grew up.  I can't remember ever wanting to be anything else.  I knew that I would go to an Ivy League school.  (I thought that it would be Harvard until I learned that they didn't have a vet school.)  I knew that I would not have children.  I didn't plan on marrying anyone, opting instead for a male neighbor who would cut my grass and let me borrow his big, woolen sweaters.  I wanted to have horses, dogs, cats, chickens, ducks, goats, and a donkey.  I knew exactly what I wanted and how I was going to get it all.

Until I failed.  In my defense, it wasn't through a lack of trying that I failed, but rather through a lack of focus created by trauma and its resulting mental health disturbances.  You see, I hadn't factored into my life equation things like rape, self-injury, dissociation, and clinical depression.  I didn't plan for my complete and utter unraveling, for the alienation of my friends, for the judgment of my family, for the feelings of despair and hopelessness that would rule my life for so long.  I hadn't prepared for the unhealthy relationships, the financial hardships, and the lack of direction or purpose.

I lost years to this detour, but unexpectedly found a new path when I became involved in helping others who had experienced sexual violence.  I was trained to answer the phone to speak with survivors and to provide emotional support and information about available services.  After some time as a volunteer, I was offered a full-time position with the agency.  I started doing public speaking and community outreach on sexual assault.  I suddenly felt a sense of excitement about my work, fulfilled by the promise of doing something that might prevent another person from experiencing what I had, and happy for the first time in over ten years.

That was almost 15 years ago, and now I am beginning to question whether I have followed this path as far as it can take me.  I am frustrated by so many aspects of the work that never seem to improve--the police response to reports of sexual assault, the low likelihood of arrest or prosecution of the perpetrators, the judgmental reaction of the general public, including the professionals tasked with providing care and services to victims, and the constant justification for the work that I do, from the begging for funding to the meticulous documentation of client demographics and services provided.  I feel powerless to truly help victims and particularly powerless to end the cycle of violence faced by women in our culture.  I dream of an end to the sadness, pain, and confusion that I feel vicariously through the people that I try to help.

I'm facing a crossroad...one direction leading me deeper into the work that I have been doing with more credentials and new skills and the other direction leading to a fresh start on a brand new path.  I don't know how to choose.  I don't know which option to follow.  I don't know whose advice to heed.  But, I feel a sense of obligation to that little girl, the one who knew so strongly and so deeply what she wanted to be when she grew up.  She didn't get to fulfill her dreams, and life led her into a new direction.  Now, I have the power to make a choice, to let that girl be who and what she wants to be, to take control of the next phase of my life.  I may not have become a veterinarian, but there's still time for me to dream and to make my dreams come true....once I decide.

the image of the beloved

"We become what we love and who we love shapes what we become. If we love things, we become a thing. If we love nothing, we become nothing. Imitation is not a literal mimicking of Christ, rather it means becoming the image of the beloved, an image disclosed through transformation. This means we are to become vessels of... God´s compassionate love for others. " ~ St. Clare of Assisi 

 

I saved this quotation several months ago...maybe even a year or more ago.  I figured at the time that I would use it as inspiration to write about my chosen career, which I view as a true calling, something that comes from a personal passion, and something that somewhat defined me.  Now, for the first time in almost 5 years, I am not working, and this quotation means something completely different to me.

 

Earlier this week, I watched as a blur of humanity packed and loaded nearly all of my Earthly belongings into a moving truck.  I watched as Mitchell signed the papers which somehow were meant to assure us that we would be getting everything back one week and 1,500 miles later.  Had this been my first such experience, I might have been more worried, but I actually felt lighter.  I care very much about the things that I have collected through my lifetime, and many have a story and a heart of their own, yet they were no longer on my mind after that moving truck pulled away from the house.  Two hours down the road, the only things on my mind were the beings inside my car and those inside Mitchell's car.

 

I have fretted for more than a year over the sale of our house and the financial loss that would accompany it.  I have spent time, energy, and money to do anything humanly possible to sell the house, all the while not really sure what I would encounter on the next steps of my journey.  I have cleaned, planned, dreamed, hoped, and (yes) even prayed.  I now realize that I was preoccupied with details, minutiae, items of little import.  None of it really matters in the end, does it?  As it's been said, "You can't take it with you."

 

Our house was officially purchased yesterday, leaving us technically homeless.  Again, I felt lighter and less burdened.  Yes, I will be closing on another house in two days, and I am excited about that, but this time between houses helps me to appreciate what really matters to me.  When all else goes away....the money, the things, the houses, the cars, the job, the professional identity....what really matters is that you still have those that you love.  They are truly the only things that cannot be replaced.  And, love is the only priceless possession you will ever own.

 

The next several weeks (and probably months) will be consumed with the unpacking and arranging of things.  I will be focused on creating a new life in a new place--finding a job, applying to schools, figuring out where and how to get the busywork of life accomplished, with a new bank, grocery store, post office, pet store, veterinarian, gas station, etc.  It will become easy to lose myself in all that needs to be done, easy to forget what really matters, easy to once again succumb to worry.  I hope that in my quite moments I will take the time to remember what matters, to be grateful for the love that surrounds me, and to enjoy the too-little time we are allotted to travel through this existence. 

 

I hope that I will not lose sight of who I am, of what shapes me, and of what feeds my soul.

the potter and his clay

"The circumstances of our pasts needn't dictate the quality of our present or the promise of our future. We're not products; we're creations!" --Jeri Elster

My friend in recovery and survival, Jeri Elster, posted the above on her Facebook page a month or so ago. I told her how much I loved it and warned her that I would be stealing it. I wasn't sure what I would be inspired to write about it until today. People and situations pop into my head at weird times, and this morning while cleaning the litterbox, I thought about a friend whose relationship had ended fairly recently. I'll avoid the obvious insult that the kitty litter somehow reminded me of his ex and instead choose to believe that I become meditative while performing mundane tasks, leaving me open to receive inspiration.

So, while scooping away, I remembered this friend once telling me about how unhappy he had been in relationships with women and about how he believed that if only he could have another chance with an ex-girlfriend, he could finally be content. I understood his feelings, having once believed that an ex-boyfriend had been "the one who got away" and being caught up in the myth of him for a long time. Knowing how things had turned out in my fantasy and having some knowledge of his past relationship, I was skeptical, but I truly wished for him that he could find happiness.

I remembered also the night that he called me to tell me that his ex-girlfriend was coming back into his life. He told me that they had been talking for a while, that she was moving back to the area, and that they were going to give the relationship another try. I was happy for him, but still felt some doubt since the circumstances of their reunion and her recent past remained shrouded in mystery.

Long story short, they dated for about 3 1/2 years before breaking up abruptly, amidst quite a bit of drama. The girlfriend and I never really got along. She started off on the wrong foot with me and never overcame that negative first impression. In fact, she never even attempted to. I tried to get to know her, but she always had a wall up with me. She never asked me one thing about myself and didn't seem to be at all interested in me as a person. I wanted desperately for us to get along, but always felt that she viewed me as competition.

In any case, now that they've broken up, I'm worried that my friend is having a hard time moving past the relationship, past his belief that she was "the one" for him, past the way he had defined himself in relation to her, past what he had hoped would be, and past how he judges his ability to trust another person. He is a tremendously talented guy, with an artistic, creative, and unique personality, but I don't know if he's able to see in himself all of his wonderful traits. I worry that for so many years he saw her as the path to his happiness and that now he isn't able to recognize that he can create that path for himself. I know that he's been hurt by at least the last two women that he's dated, and I wonder whether he is willing to open himself up to a woman enough to have an honest and intimate relationship.

I sense that my friend feels stuck right now, that he feels that he has failed somehow. I know what depression feels like, and I know how lonely it can be. I also know that it is temporary. I know that it's possible to move through the darkness, and I know that even greater light exists on the other side. I hope that he will trust in himself and others enough to find the lessons that he can in his present pain that will help him attain happiness, contentment, love, acceptance, and fulfillment in his future. I want him to know how much I care about him, how scared I have been for him, and how deeply I believe in him. I also wish that I could tell him that that sometimes you have to shatter all of your preconceived notions about what you thought you knew, who are were, and what you wanted in order to truly find yourself.