Shit You Don’t Admit: Being a Chickenshit About Your Dreams

Welcome to the second installment of “Shit You Don’t Admit,” a three-part series about all the things everyone feels, but no one admits.  My second admission:  I’m too chickenshit to go after my dreams.

When I cry during reality TV shows like American Idol, The Voice or Project Runway, I’m crying because the contestants have, against all odds, had the cajones to go after their dreams and I have not.  I’m getting teary-eyed because I know the fear of instability I carry around that keeps me from risking anything significant to get what I want.

I’m amazed by the sheer number of people I know personally who don’t share my tolerance for misery.  I laud their ability to step back from financial stability to find their own joy instead.  I am impressed by the ones I know and love and I kinda hate the ones who I think have been successful without deserving it.  But really that’s just me being angry with myself.

I grew up in a relatively stable home financially but my parents constantly griped about money.  There was also constant threat of divorce and this terrified me.  It seemed clear to me that my parents were barely holding it together to fund one household and that financing two households would have broken them.  I imagined moving from my nice middle class, suburban neighbourhood to some ghetto in the city and going to school with the rough kids that I played against in basketball.  I wanted no part of that.  I didn’t want to be like Julia Stiles in that dance movie where she moves to the inner city and has to learn to get by on less.

I was hard up for cash during university like everyone else, but by age 30 I was doing a bit better than average.  I remember that I didn’t care what I did for a living as long as it afforded me the ability to get most of what I wanted when I wanted it (thankfully I didn’t want Louis Vuitton bags or Hermes scarves).  But that ability has kept me in a job I hate for years.  My unwillingness to take a pay cut rendered me inert.

I had a performance review once during which my boss said to me that “there are people who do what they love and there are people who do what they do so they can do what they love.  And there’s no shame in being the latter.”  I don’t know if she was saying that for me as much as for herself, but I repeated those words like an anthem for years.  Mostly I was trying to convince myself that this job was enough for me long past the point when it became clear that it wasn’t.

If I’m brutally honest I have to add that I’ve often been completely unwilling to work consistently at anything that didn’t offer a guaranteed outcome.  Which is kind of the very definition of chasing any dream.  There will be much failure, much rejection and then hopefully, someday, success.  I’ve refused to bite that particular bullet and tend to cry foul once I’ve experienced a failure or a couple rejections.  I am loath to call myself lazy, but I think, secretly, I probably am.  I mean I watch a shitload of TV and isn’t that generally a hallmark of the lazy?

I was really gung ho around the end of last year about chasing my dreams, but each passing month has brought greater clarity about that idea and what it really entails.  I’m starting to see less of the glitter of it and more of the hard work involved, even if it’s the just the hard work of giving up the level of comfort and stability I’ve enjoyed for so long.

Shit You Don’t Admit: Materialism

This began as a post-therapy journal entry in which I just started to admit things that are embarrassing.  In the course of these confessional musings, I got to thinking about all of the that shit most of us never admit out loud.  Some of those issues struck me as blog-worthy fodder, so, coming at you in three installments, here is “Shit You Don’t Admit.”  The first of these:  materialism.

I really like my comfortable life.  It’s not so much that I’m attached to my stuff as much as I’m addicted to consumption.  This, despite the fact that it doesn’t make me happy.  People who attain home ownership and two cars in the drive rarely admit that it makes them miserable or that maybe it’s not worth the stress.  In the same way, I find it hard to admit that being reasonably well paid hasn’t brought me financial security, but instead a consumption habit that’s very hard to kick.

The kicker is that no one admits this.  We are taught to be consumers from the moment we leave the womb and then we’re supposed to feel bad about being materialistic.  We’re made to feel ashamed about it when an enormous part of our economy is fueled by our very materialism.  We are supposed to have it all materially and somehow also have it all spiritually.  I’m supposed to eat, pray and love and consume constantly, too.

Ironically, I would never call myself materialistic.  In fact, I’d be mad if someone did.  And I’m kind of self-righteous about my materialism because I’m not fixated on style or designer labels.  But it’s clear that my vast array of yoga pants and sweat shirts from Old Navy is indicative of a problem.  I get way too much out of the thrill of the buy.  The bulk of my consumption has little to do with basics like shelter, food and enough clothing to keep me decent.  It’s mostly about convenience, saving face, avoiding emotions and trying to make myself acceptable.  I am a product of my product-driven culture in all the worst ways.

Lean in close and I’ll tell you a related secret.  I hate celebrities and celebrity culture because it makes me aware that I feel so damn inadequate.  When I start to feel inadequate, what follows, in my head, is there must be something wrong with me.  Not that there’s something wrong with the media machine or celebrity culture or advertising.  Nope, it’s gotta be me.  And in my quest to fix myself I do exactly what my culture says I should do–I go out and consume.  I sign up for Weight Watchers, I buy a new cardigan, I buy some more exercise videos or I  just buy a very big piece of cake if I’m not feeling particularly hopeful about fixing myself that day.  I own about 10 exercise videos and I’ve used them for maybe a combined total of 10 hours.  Maybe.  Maybe less.  Purchasing more of these clearly isn’t going to help me feel better about myself.

Exercise videos, cardigans and Weight Watchers aren’t problematic inherently, but the culture that dictates that I’ll stop feeling inadequate by way of these things is.  Ultimately I still feel bad about myself despite all of this consumption and I wonder if what I’m holding onto when I hold so tight to (the illusion of) financial freedom is the freedom to keep trying to fix myself.

But there’s hope.  Sitting in a quiet, sunny park writing this blog post, I feel a great deal of calm and contentment.  I recognize that it’s a kind of calm and contentment that the new cardigan I wore today can’t bring.  It’s the kind that can’t be bought, period.

This is usually the point in my blog post when I’d make some declaration about how I’m going to change, but I’m going to skip that.  I recently heard about a study in which it was found that people who tell others about their goals, tend not to work as hard toward those goals, so I think it’s best to keep my mouth shut.  I will say that I’m tired to death of how consumer culture makes me feel and I want to stop playing the game.  What about you?

Post script:  I started writing this post back in the first week of May.  As of today, May 15th, I’m facing the possibility that I may be laid off in the coming week or that the company I work for may cease to exist.  The way I’ve been spending up until now is the reason why I don’t have an emergency fund.  Whatever happens, my consumption will likely be nipped in the bud no matter what.  Tell the universe what you want and it provides (grin).

#reverb – April

What’s blossoming?

I think of it this way.

Some plants have very large root systems compared to what we see above ground.  In fact the real show is all underground.  The blossoming, while beautiful, is simply a visible representation of the amazing story going on beneath our feet.

Somehow it feels jinxy to publicly talk about what’s in the works for me at the moment, but if you’ve had personal contact with me lately you already know that my life could be very different by the fall.  These (potential) massive external changes are the flowering top, the visible representation, of a whole root system of internal, personal changes.  What’s going on down in the soil is a willingness to face and overcome fear, to stop considering myself a victim of my life, and the discernment to stop trying to control things that are entirely uncontrollable.  What’s blossoming up top is a total revamp of my personal landscape.

That is what is blossoming, and when the time is right, I will post all about my new flower garden.

#reverb – March

If March 2011 was your last month to live, how would you live it?

It’s nine days into the month of March and I have been fighting some serious February blahs.  I remember gliding into 2011 with such resolve, feeling like I was going to take the world by a storm this year.  And then somewhere in the middle of last month, the wind was unceremoniously removed from beneath my wings.

So I had a bit of a think recently about what had changed and I came to the conclusion that it was one tiny word:  risk.  Or rather, a lack thereof.  Back when I was reverbing everyday, I remember stumbling upon the idea that I really needed to be taking a hell of a lot more risks if I was ever going to be happy.  I am a creature of incredible inertia–it’s rather amazing that I make it out of bed every morning, since getting up differs, in some way, from lying down.  Okay, perhaps I exaggerate, but I’m such a creature of habit, and generally so terrified of change, so immobilized (and paradoxically driven) by fear, that taking even the smallest risks can be overwhelming for me.  I felt like I started to get into a good risky place around the end of 2010 and into the beginning of 2011, but somewhere along the way I fell off that wagon.  And it’s been a real effort to get back on.  I’m working on it, but the initial excitement is gone and it’s a pitch battle to overcome the fear that has crept back in.

Many moons ago, after a particularly disastrous affair with a man, a friend of mine made a comment that has always stuck with me.  She said that I had spent so much time unwilling to take any small, calculated risks in aid of my happiness, that every once in a while I went entirely batshit and took huge, un-calculated risks that generally resulted in much greater unhappiness.  Living a life entirely directed by fear is, in the long haul, a hell of a lot more dangerous than taking a little bite of risk every day.  I just have to get that message to my heart somehow.

Part of the evening of my 35th birthday was spent tobogganing, and let me tell you, I nearly shat my pants when we looked down the hill for the first time that night.  I suddenly wondered what had possessed me to think I could do this.  After dragging everyone out in sub-zero weather though, I couldn’t bail, so eventually, I went down the hill.  And it was the shit!  I had an amazing time and I was so glad I’d done it in the end.  Added bonus–the bottom half of my body was so cold and wet, it took my mind off the worst yeast infection I’ve had in years!

So in answer to the prompt, if this month was going to be my last to live, I’d live every day of  it knocking down my fears and taking the risks required to find my happiness.  I’d treat every day like a hill made for tobogganing.  And now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go and find my crazy carpet.

#reverb – February

One month into 2011, what question(s) are you living? Are there any prompts/questions that arose during #reverb10 that are still resonating in your life? Are you living new questions?

I feel like the easiest way to answer this is to say what’s changed for me.  I don’t know if it was the reverb process or if I just managed to turn a corner after all these years, but something has finally shifted.  I was aware of the shift pretty quickly after it occurred, but what galvanized it in my mind was when a friend asked how I was doing; my answer was an unequivocal “good!”

There is nothing tangible in my life that anyone could point to and say “that’s changed,” but somehow my perspective has.  For the first time ever, in my life, I feel like there is potential for real, tangible change.  There is a sense of direction that I have right now that guides where I put my energy and it’s a great feeling.  I remember when I used to go to church and there was a sense that the needs of the kingdom of God guided all my decisions.  For years after I went the way of agnosticism, I really missed having any kind of guiding principle for my life.  I feel like I have that again, but not in a rigid, soul-destroying way, but a fun, free, fall a million times and just keep getting back up kind of way.

This is not to say that I don’t have bad days–today was kinda one of them–but it does always seem like the next day, or even the next hour, can be better.  A month into 2011, I don’t have new year’s resolutions, just a sense of direction and purpose that feels right for me.

#reverb10 – December 31

December 31 – Core Story What central story is at the core of you, and how do you share it with the world? (Bonus: Consider your reflections from this month. Look through them to discover a thread you may not have noticed until today.)

On this last day of the #reverb10 experiment, I thought I’d do a word cloud of the past 30 #reverb10 posts and just throw that up here.  Except, after much copying and pasting, it turned out to be total crap.  I use the words “just” and “time” and “like” a lot.

Now I’m watching the clock.  I’ve just (haha) woken up from a two-hour nap and there’s an untidy apartment behind me and New Year’s Eve plans (albeit low key ones) to prepare for.  There’s an e-mail I want to take care of before I leave as well, and the thought of trying to figure out what my central story is and then write it down in some coherent way all in the next 75 minutes…really?  I don’t know if I can.  I don’t know what my central or core story is.  What does that even mean?

Okay.  Ping.  The one thing that comes to mind is a theme that’s come up in therapy many times this year, and that’s my need for acknowledgment.  I’m sure a lot of people feel like the odd man out in their families, so my situation isn’t unique–I just really feel like I was cut from a different cloth than the rest of my immediate kin.  I’m not even sure I’m actually made of fabric at all; if they’re cut from a bolt of cotton, I’m the leavings from some flammable wad of polyester.  Both materials have their uses but they are not the same.

Being around my family en masse almost always leads to tears on my part.  There is a dynamic that occurs when the whole family is together that is just so difficult for me to cope with that I usually end up feeling like I should be sitting at the kiddie table and that my ideas and feelings are completely invalid.  Rather than being the youngest adult in the house, I am reduced, once more, to being the youngest child.  Ultimately I feel invisible and unheard.

This feeling plays out in the rest of my life as well.  I am constantly wondering why no one cares about me or what I think, when the problem is that I haven’t spoken up and made my needs or thoughts known.  I forget that while there is potential emotional danger with my family when I stop letting myself be invisible, outside of my family people see me as an adult (apparently sometimes a pretty formidable one) and being visible is as easy as opening my mouth.

This is all a bit of a sad central story I realize, but there is an upside.  I sing and I write.  I am positive that I leaned towards these skills in my talent  tool box because they make me immediately visible.  When someone reads my blog or my short story or hears me sing in a choir or do a solo–I am immediately, undeniably visible.  I think that this weakness and need has also been my greatest asset, because even when I don’t want to produce or create, the desire to be seen keeps me doing it.  I can ignore the desire for a while, but it always comes back.

I’m working on making sure I don’t allow myself to be invisible by voicing my needs and thoughts and opinions wherever I need to do so.  I’ve decided recently that as easy as it would be for someone else to swoop in and ensure that I don’t feel invisible (like a boyfriend or a normal boss), there’s not much power in that.  It’s way more powerful to first acknowledge myself and then allow others to do it as they see me doing so.  But I’m grateful for the passions borne of my weakness.  I would never give them up for all the visibility in the world.

Happy New Year to all of my fellow reverberators; it’s been a fantastic ride!

#reverb10 – December 30

December 30 – Gift Prompt: Gift. This month, gifts and gift-giving can seem inescapable. What’s the most memorable gift, tangible or emotional, you received this year? (Author: Holly Root)

A couple years ago my sister and I decided to stop the gift-giving at Christmas time.  This caused a huge fight with my mother and she stopped speaking to me for about two months.  In fact, the only reason we made contact again was because of the mandatory Christmas Day long distance call.  Despite the fight, I’m glad I’m not caught up in it anymore.  Besides the fact that I no longer stress about money spent for Christmas until well into March, it’s also nice to not go through the stupidity of smiling pretty over heinous gifts received and gritting my teeth as I listen to ingratitude regarding gifts given.

Considering how few Christmas gifts I receive at this point, it’s kinda neat that the most memorable gifts I got this year were both Christmas gifts.  And both were books.  Following is the story of the one that takes the cake.

At the Christmas party of my writing group, we all bring a book wrapped and hand them out pretty randomly.  People can trade if they’ve already read the book or whatnot.  When I opened up my book I squealed and hung on for dear life.  A while ago, after a piece of mine was critiqued, one of the members came up and pulled a bright yellow book out of his bag and asked me if I’d read it; he said something about one element of my piece being a bit reminiscent of this author’s work.  The author’s name knocked around in my head for a while but I never got around to checking that book out of the library.

Imagine my surprise and delight when I tore off the wrapping paper and found that same bright yellow book within.  And it wasn’t even the same person who had mentioned the book to me who brought it to the party.  It does seem a bit like the universe wanted me to have it, eh?

The book:  No One Belongs Here More Than You by Miranda July.

#reverb10 – December 29

December 29 – Defining Moment Describe a defining moment or series of events that has affected your life this year. (Author: Kathryn Fitzmaurice)

I can’t believe there are only two more prompts until this is done.  It seems like I only started my first #reverb10 blog posts a couple days ago.

I’m grateful that defining moments can happen to you–that you don’t always have to create them.  Sometimes all the effort you have to make is to notice them.  And even if every post I’ve done hasn’t been a Pulitzer prize winner, this month of writing based on these prompts has been a bit like wiping off a layer of dust leaving my mind attuned to circumstances and how I can choose to react to them.  My December 13th #reverb10 post was the blow-by-blow account of a series of defining moments that left me with the idea that I will have to take risks–big and small–in the coming year if I want to end 2011 without regret; without feeling like it’s just another year gone by.  I’ve had a lot of years of that just go by and life is both too long and too short to keep letting that happen.

It’s been interesting to see how after the initial eureka moment has passed, the initial defining moments having gone by, how it’s hard to keep being excited about taking risks.  I wanted to check out a boxing class and I caved under the fear of taking that risk and stayed home.  I was tired and it had been a long and productive day, so it’s not a big deal that I didn’t go that day, but it’s a big deal that I caved to fear of the complete unknown.  I didn’t back down because I already knew I hated the class or the people or the location or any of that.  I caved out of fear.  I’ve gone back on Weight Watchers (fifth time’s the charm?) and so far it’s been going well, but today I fell to pieces a bit with a bag of popcorn that got pretty damn compulsive.  I couldn’t be bothered, in that moment, to deal with whatever was going on for me–shopper’s remorse, fatigue, guilt about a situation that’s niggling at the back of my brain–who knows?  And now I probably won’t know.  Because I inhaled a bag of popcorn instead.  That story I haven’t edited yet while I’ve managed to do just about everything else including try to renew my health card, get blood work done and brave the Apple Store to get an item I’ve been putting off for nearly a year–apparently it can wait.  That’s not to mention the job stuff I haven’t followed up on yet.

My point isn’t be a hard ass with myself about all I haven’t done–I don’t think that’s productive anyway.  Life is life and it gets in the way sometimes.  But at the same time I realize that *this* is the nitty gritty of risk in my every day life.  Doing those little things differently every day.  So that no stretch of days feels like a write off.  It’s not like you wake up at the end of a year and it just turned into a year wasted in one second flat, it’s an accumulation of days that were wasted doing what wasn’t important.

I’ve sort of gotten a bit off track with this prompt but I think this was the response that I needed today.  If I want to look back on 2011 as a year of defining moments, it has to be an everyday practice.

#reverb10 – December 28

December 28 – Achieve  What’s the thing you most want to achieve next year? How do you imagine you’ll feel when you get it? Free? Happy? Complete? Blissful? Write that feeling down. Then, brainstorm 10 things you can do, or 10 new thoughts you can think, in order to experience that feeling today.  (Author: Tara Sophia Mohr)

Sometimes I’ve felt a bit repetitious responding to these reverb prompts, but I realize that’s not a bad thing.  Well not for me anyway; I can’t speak for how you as a reader experience it.  The thing I want most in the next year, which has come up over and over in these posts, is to leave my job.  I don’t even know if I want a new one in the conventional sense.  I just want out of this one.

There are a lot of things I think I’ll feel when I leave my job, including fear of what will come after.  But I think the overwhelming feeling that I’ll have on the day that I walk away from that office for the last time, is a sense of incredible relief.  The kind of relief you feel when you’ve been running a long, long race and you’ve finally reached the finish line and you can lie down in the grass and your only responsibility is to breathe and to be.

So in no particular order here are ten things I can think or do to make me feel that feeling:

go for a walk in a quiet place
sit and breathe
take a bath
take a long shower
find some grass and lie in it
sing along to beautiful music
bring to mind how i felt sitting next to my mother in the window that day as a child
bring to mind what it will feel like to resign
paint
think about good things

#reverb10 – December 27

December 27 – Ordinary Joy Our most profound joy is often experienced during ordinary moments. What was one of your most joyful ordinary moments this year? (Author: Brené Brown)

There are a few moments from which I could choose, but one that sticks out happened in September.  My friend and I went for a walk in High Park and when we got to the huge hill that slopes down into Grenadier Pond, I insisted that we stop, lazy bugger that I am.  The hill was spotted with families and couples and people sitting alone just enjoying the gorgeous, warm, sunny day.  I watched a toddler try to climb up the hill on unsteady feet and fall down over and over until his father, laughing, rescued him.  I listened to a man serenade his friends with his guitar.  I saw a girl who looked pretty high maintenance, kick off her shoes and rub her feet freely through the grass.  And I laid back and stared up at nearly cloudless sky and then closed my eyes and felt the sun bathe me in warmth.

I forget all too easily how being in nature has a way of bringing about an immediate calm and peace and even joy.  That moment lying in the grass in High Park was a truly joyful one.