The Road I Took

There has always been a part of me within that has been the observer watching how I played the parts on the outside.

Until this past Sunday's excursion to church, I always thought that some part of me was longing to be a part of a group that gathered together like that--one that had regular get-togethers. This journey has been a really lonely one in some ways--I never really seemed to be able to mold myself to fit any kind of group for much length of time. There's been a bit of a rebel in me who just had to do it her own, sometimes messy, way.

I like sharing and hearing other's stories about life's journeys, but I dislike gossip--to be in the midst of it, much worse, participating in it, sucks me dry energetically. I realized it was too easy to fall into when my husband and I were having a simple conversation where one of us inquired of the other about that person's family member. It was simply the question, "How is so-and-so doing?"

But I realized that question caused my protective defenses to come raging to the front--and I knew the same thing happened when my husband was asked the same type of question by me about one of his loved ones, regardless of what anyone did or didn't do. I also recognized for the first time that no one outside of that person, family member or not, could answer that question--and that what I was doing in that moment of trying to answer it was simply engaging in GOSSIP.

Once I realized what was going on, I explained what I became aware of to my husband and asked him to start talking only about ourselves with ourselves, instead of about other people. I realized that if I wasn't one of the two people in the relationship being discussed then I didn't need to be talking and my opinion didn't matter.

After a lifetime of playing "the meddler", it wasn't easy to let go at first, but once I'd practiced the idea, there was a tremendous release in realizing I wasn't intended to fix other people's lives. To honor them where they were in the present moment--to see the gift they were bringing me by playing that part at that time--was a great deal more satisfying and a whole lot less work and anxiety.

Sometimes someone may be playing out a choice that I am absolutely repulsed by, but because they had the courage to play that part out for me, they helped me by eliminating one choice of my own out of a potential of many. I got to voyeuristically see it without having to experience it. Or maybe I liked the consequences--then it would probably be a choice I'd try myself.

Speaking of not fitting into groups--I really tried the college thing, but I could only go so far with it, and then it was just too much. I got good grades, but it was too rigid for me. I was born the seventh child in a family of eight, and I idolized my parents and brothers and sister to the point that I parroted all of their beliefs as my own. As a result, I was a really good student--teachers generally liked me because I regurgitated with ease everything they taught me--but I had no idea who Penny was or what she believed.

It took me moving away from my family and home and into a city, something that was not easy for me to do--but I found myself, in amongst all those strangers. I had no past reputation to live up to, no expectations, no familiar roles to fall into--a book with blank pages waiting to be written on.

I still tried to fulfill the college degree, but every time I'd end up sick, physically, and emotionally, a wreck. Trying to conform and mold myself into what other's believed valuable and the "right" path just plain hurt, and it suffocated me even thinking about trying to do it all over again. I couldn't restrict and limit myself to that degree again.

I tried afterwards to just settle for a regular job--but I remember clearly asking myself on the floor of that packaging plant, "Is this who I am? Is this all that life is about?" I felt something curl up inside myself and die for a time. I remember after being on the job for a couple years, watching myself and my co-workers go through the routine of our days, robots simply going through the motions, settling for "insurance and financial security" doing a job that was taking us nowhere--like a hamster on a wheel. Thankfully, the the plant closed and moved to Mexico. And so much for security.

I tried more jobs later on, after years of staying home, trying to get pregnant--at least, that was my justification. But, I'd get tired of companies merging into corporations only to treat their employees as expendable, replaceable slaves. The safety bulletins would be posted all over, but the truth was, it was simply in order to comply with OSHA to keep from being fined. The rebel in me was still at the forefront, so I quit trying to be the person I thought everyone expected me to be--and I started looking at what I wanted to do and who I wanted to be in this life that was my own.

It's not been easy staying at home, not working in a manner in which you're rewarded with a steady paycheck. I used to cringe whenever anyone asked me, "So what do you do?" At first I'd just get red and mumble, "I'm home, and no, we don't have kids..." Later I'd just get defensive, and red, and try to joke, "Not a damn thing!"

Then, just lately, I realized I didn't need to justify it. I simply chose it "just because."

Now, I'm not trying to play out victimhood here--I, in fact, take full responsibility for my journey. In looking back, I see all of it simply as me finding my own way in this life. Sometimes I had to challenge the status quo of "getting a career, a man, children." Was that truly what life was about for me?

Something deep inside, all along, has been reminding me not to settle, and she's also been telling me to quit all the self-judgment and self-condemnation for not being like everyone else. And to replace those old task masters with self-compassion and honor and humor--quit taking myself so seriously.

You know, when I was at my lowest-feeling points, I used to look at my old classmates, family members and friends who I thought were "successful" and wonder how they did it. I envied them, and my jealous ego would kick in and I'd tell myself, hoping it was true, "They may look happy on the outside, but blah, blah, blah..." The old adage was true for me--I liked having company in my misery. I felt crappy about myself, thus the rest of the world was crappy, too. I could actually feel myself guiltily taking on that "I'm superior" attitude while I ripped the one I envied apart.

It was just a couple months ago on a drive with my husband, during which we were reminiscing about old classmates and friends (he'd just had a thirty year reunion) that I recognized and made that admission about myself. I realized that, in truth, I was really proud of all of my classmates and friends, many who have successful careers--and with that I wished them happy lives and fulfilling relationships, too. My green monster is gone finally--she dissipated with the simple acknowledgement that she was there in the first place, running my show.

So--I still don't have a job or a career or a degree or kids (and I'm finally liking that, and no longer just okay about it), but I still have this amazingly unique life--this gift of getting the chance to discover and be simply ME!

My observer is still present inside, but she feels a bit more in the forefront than she did in the past--I invited her here. And I am enjoying having her direct and participate in my roles on the stage of humanity--a stage that is truly a GIFT.