Inconvenient Truths

On walking away, and on walking toward

My very first word was “pretty,” and as I said it, I was looking out at a backyard covered in freshly fallen snow. Years later, I began to loathe the first thing I ever expressed awe for - it was cold, messy, familiar, boring. As soon as I was ready, I ran away from it. But this year, I moved back. Because what is cold, messy, familiar and boring is also what is true to me.

A few years ago, I broke my own heart. I was in long-term love with someone that everyone around us thought was my person. I let myself think it, too, as often as I could. Only in the dark, alone moments did I hear the persistent voice telling me that what was missing from the relationship was me. If I continued to grow this life, I would continue to lose me. I walked away from happiness, joy, and belonging, and into myself. I spent months oscillating in and out of total brokenness, and when I wanted to run away from it, I didn’t. Because what was dark and lonely was also what was true to me.

In the last few weeks, two big things have happened to me: first one career offer, then another. For someone who lives with an inordinate amount of imposter syndrome, this was the shock of a lifetime. Both offers came from organizations I admire immensely. Both promised a steady salary, good benefits, and lovely coworkers.

I turned them both down.

In a podcast interview with Maria Menounos, former child star and current adult genius Alyson Stoner is asked about how to handle the fear of walking away from something steady and into something unknown. She says that for her, the most important lesson was this: she didn’t have to see the entire vision to take the first step. In other words, Alyson needed to get comfortable taking the first step even without knowing, or understanding, what lived at the end.

I don’t really know what I’m walking towards right now; I only know what I’m walking away from. I’m walking away from the idea that my work has to have a chokehold on my life. I’m walking away from the transaction that sells my identity for the sake of my title; it’s a bad deal. I’m walking away from the stories I told myself about career ladders and status.

When I was a teacher, some deep part of my ego loved the experience of being asked what I did for work. People would look at me - young, small, tattooed, a bit perplexing - and pause to take in the thought of it. Then, they would respond - first with shock, then with awe, then with deep admiration. I felt like I’d really made it.

Of course, I wasn’t asked what I did for work very much. That’s because I wasn’t around new people very much. I lived at the school, and I lived in my apartment, planning for school. I spent a few rare afternoons with a few rare friends, and when I did, I’d talk about school. I turned down almost every invitation I received to anything. Because I wasn’t just a teacher, I was a good teacher. I wasn’t a good teacher; I was one of the best. And in order to be one of the best, I had to be always a teacher, never a person. I had to give up every part of myself that didn’t serve my job, and even some that did. I did life-changing, heart-filling work, and I loved it. I also didn’t sleep full nights or relax completely for four years.

In the pursuit of what my work needed, I forgot myself. Just like the relationship I had walked away from, the thing that was missing was me.

This week, I was offered a part-time job in a little store downtown that I absolutely adore. It pays badly, doesn’t include benefits, and makes no sense on my resume at all. I’m going to take it. I’m going to take it, and I’m going to figure out the rest. Sometimes, you know what feels wrong before you know what feels right. Sometimes, you know what isn’t true to you, even if you can’t express the truth.

The world told me to give my life to my career. But the little voice inside me, the voice I’m learning to trust with my life, was busy imagining something radical and new. We all have that voice, that nagging and knowing. If we listened to that and drowned out all the rest, what would change? Who could we be?