Getting Back to It

I have been out of the workforce for 15 years. It was an active, conscious decision that involved what was best for my family and newborn. What I have come to realize, though, is it wasn't the best decision for me in the long run. Don't get me wrong, I love being a parent and would not trade the time I had with my kid for anything. I just wish I could have enjoyed it while maintaining my individual identity. 

There is so much weight in the word identity, isn't there? 

We go through life checking little boxes on medical forms, insurance forms, job applications, college admission and private school forms, housing applications, and a myriad of other things that convey how we see ourselves.  We check little boxes related to our racial identity (which is a social construct), our sexual orientation, gender identifiers, ethnicity, relationship status, parental status, medical conditions, employment status, and military service status. 

At the end of the day, what does all of that mean?

We allow those little boxes that we check or leave unchecked become internalized snapshots of ourselves that we then strive to live up to or prevent us from reaching for the next thing. We allow those little boxes to literally keep us boxed inside a preconceived identity based on societal expectations or other external pressures. I am finding my little box is starting to deteriorate. Those identifiers I have adopted for so long are starting to feel too tight and restrictive. 

When I look at the trajectory of my life, there are many moments that I find, my smile was broader, and the light in my eyes was brighter. I was doing the things I loved as a career. My jobs have always been a part of who I am. Though I have had many different types of jobs over the years, each one taught me a lesson about who I was at my core. 

My military service was a job I loved. Even with the constraints of not being allowed to love out loud, my service was something that got me out of bed every morning happily. I loved the discipline of the job and the structure. I know the reason I loved those aspects so much is due to the lack of those things throughout my childhood. I craved those things because there was security. 

When I was discharged for being gay, it took me back to the night my family kicked me out of the house for the same reason. I realized that unless I am fully accepted for who I am, there is no security or safety. I loved the army and my fellow soldiers, just as much as I loved my family, but it has to be a mutually committed relationship for it to work. The lesson is unless I am loved and respected as much as I love and respect, the relationship is not mutual. In the end, it is not going to work. 

After I was discharged, I used my training to land a job as a warehouse manager. It was hard because of the "dishonorable" tag the military left me with, which was another slap in the face. My service record is full of accommodations and promotions, which were also stripped of me, simply for loving another woman.

But, I digress. The warehouse jobs were just that, jobs. While I loved organizing and making systems work better, there wasn't any level of passion for them. I was good at what I did, and it kept me housed and fed and allowed me to frequent the local gay bars and pay for dinner on dates. No passion, just a lesson in being organized and efficient. 

When I was injured in the warehouse, I was out of work for a while, which gave me a chance to reevaluate my life, and I came to the conclusion that I needed to find a passion. It led me to late-night television watching, which then led to seeing recruitment adds for EMT training. I signed up the next day. 

My EMS career satisfied my need for structure, discipline, organization, and efficiency. I was great at being an EMT. It checked all the boxes for me when it came to satisfaction and allowed me to explore other types of job settings within my skill sets. I worked in doctor offices, emergency rooms, and as a consultant designing ambulances. I typically had a couple jobs at a time, which allowed me to thrive. 

Like all things, life brings changes. Hospitals were sold, resulting in positions being cut, doctors retire, resulting in staff no longer being needed, and needs change. I was starting to feel the burnout from seeing so much pain, inhumanity, and wreckage from violence while working in DC and NYC. I took a little break by limiting myself to one EMS job and picking up shifts in a coffee house. 

Working in the coffee house allowed me to relax and enjoy people again. It gave me laughter and community. I worked the late shift close to a place where AA meetings were held every night. Most of those attending would come in and stay until after closing. I learned a lot about their lives and struggles, but I also learned a lot more about hope and perseverance. 

When that job ended, badly, I became a barback at a local gay bar. I took the job to prove a point to the owner of the coffee house, but also for a broader sense of community. The fact there was a cute bartender working there was a bonus. She and I are still friends to this day and can laugh about our time working at The Circle. 

The job there was mindless, repetitive, hard work, often punctuated with drama, which left me exhausted at the end of the night. It was also the place I became connected to the best core group of friends I have ever had in my life, who are my best cheerleaders and supporters. The job did not teach me much, but it gave me the gift of lasting friendships. 

I know, I know, this shit is getting long. But it is my blog, and I do eventually have a point. There is just a process to my point, so let me process!

At this moment, I am looking back at all of this and looking forward to what is next. I have three classes left before I walk away with my master's degree. I have been a student for the past four years. I have worked my ass off and maintained a 4.0 GPA. So, I am a good student, and I have enjoyed the process of discovery and figuring out my passion at this stage of life. 

I know my stuff, yet there is this lingering doubt in my mind that is a socially constructed byproduct of ageism. I am too old to start over and I will never be able to compete with younger applicants. Or, I have been out of work too long and am too far behind others in the field.

There is also this lingering sense of inadequacy that shades my abilities and strengths. I think that part of the equation is a product of all my past experiences and the voices from my childhood, who emphatically state I would "never amount to anything." Always fighting that narrative, no matter what I do.

So, that is my fight. Beating back those voices so what I know to be true to have a stronger voice. Some days the fight exhausts me. I want to give in to those voices and curl up in the comfort of the now and the stagnation of the past 15 years, which have defined me. Breaking out of the boxes in which we place ourselves is scary. It is hard work to undo what has been self-inflicted.

What I know right now is my identity is mine to determine. It is complex as hell. However, getting back to it is what is required, and the end results will be worth it.