(The title is my favorite running gag from the original Muppet Movie. WARNING: Read farther only if you can stomach self-absorbed whining.)
My baby graduated high school last month.
Instantly I was transported back to my high school graduation. Our high school gym was having asbestos removed so the ceremony was held outside with no back-up plan for rain because the senior class voted not to use the gym the next town over, our sports rival. The day dawned sunny and fair, turned cloudy as the morning progressed, and started dripping rain as we processed to "Pomp and Circumstance". As the ceremony progressed it turn to a steady shower. Water dripped off our mortarboards.
I clearly recall sitting on the stage and feeling the enormity of the moment. I was being launched into the world. It's one of those moments in life when you look around wondering when the grown-up is going to show up. The world was an open book, the story still unwritten.
Terrifying.
It only recently occurred to me why the ghost of that feeling haunted my daughter's graduation. My role as school mom was over. I'd recently lost my job. Come fall I wouldn't have the daughters around occupy my time. The world is an open book, the story still unwritten.
Still terrifying.
And worse. Infinitely worse. I've always been deeply envious of people who have callings, who know where they want to go and what they want to be. My picture has always been fuzzy. There was theater, but it didn't take me long to realize I didn't have what it takes. Ditto with singing. Psychology was my fall-back because I've always had a fascination with people. I did not, however, share the same passion for statistics and computers which came dangerously close to tanking my college career.
I've tried out multiple jobs and each time I went through a phase of thinking "this is it". When I first worked at the shelter I contemplated an MSW (nope). When I worked at the law office I contemplated law school (nope). When I worked in the kitchen of a nursing home I contemplated getting certified as a dietary supervisor (nope). Once I was back at the shelter I was contemplated becoming a licensed practical counselor.
You know, getting fired is really a kidney-punch to the self-esteem. Especially, I think, in this case. It was not a "gee you're a great person but the money just isn't there" sort of thing. It was personal. It was because of me, who I am and what I did. I have a slight problem with authority in that I recognize it but expect to be respected in return. If I perceive that I am not being respected then I don't really care who you are. This has led to some bridges being burned, torn-up, and pulled down.
I think I've previously mentioned that I've likened my work history to unsuccessful romantic relationships. As I recently told a friend of mine "I really thought this job was the one". I was terrified to return to the shelter but I picked it right back up. It ignited my passion, gave me an identity, allowed me a measure of financial security. But that demon burn-out was snapping at my heels having been given a head start 25 years ago. And I threw it all away. I blew it. I did it. No one else to point to but me. I feel like a toddler who's had her favorite toy ripped out of her hands because she wouldn't stop bashing it against the back of the driver's seat.
So here I sit. Most people my age are probably approaching the pinnacles of their careers. I'm looking over the scorched remains of my employment history. Every time I pull money from the ATM I'm painfully aware that it's not going back. Solidly middle-aged with a bizarre interrupted resume. Not sure I would want to hire me.
Terrifying.
Even worse, I'm sliding into the unemployed slump, exacerbated by the fact that it's summertime. I sleep late because, hey, no place I need to be. No need to dress up for anything. I have lots of house projects to work on but, hey, I got lots of time. Nothing but time. It stretches like taffy.
I know it simply means that there is something better for me out there. But I would love to have a clue, a plan, a leading for what I should be doing right now. I should be enjoying this last summer with my daughters but it's hard when there's not an end in sight. Just another day of rolling out of bed, having my coffee, figuring out what to do. It's like The Talking Heads said "Heaven... heaven is a place...a place where nothing... nothing ever happens..."
My, I'm a bundle of joy, aren't I? Well it's not so much fun to be living it, either.
I've lost my sense of direction. Does anyone know where to find The Reverend Harry Krishna?
