Crying is something I find myself doing often. Previously I would lower my head, avoid bodies when they were present, hold my breath until I could get somewhere alone, stifle a sniffle to try and masquerade the misery I felt inside.
I didn’t hide my face today as I stood in the open kitchen, over the built-in cutting board that was lined with chopped zucchini, red onion, bell pepper and garlic as my stepdad returned home. I’m getting pretty tired of being alone and trying to face things on my own.
I can’t say I’m open or willing to talk about how I’m feeling aloud to most people, maybe the exception my therapist or Marcus, after much prying and exasperation. I feel disdain for myself for keeping people at bay, especially when I know they care and want to be able to support me. I struggle to find the ability to trust them, even though time after time I’ve been shown I am supported, loved, and valued. Regardless, my walls stay up and my mind screams:
“You can’t open up. You can’t share. It’s not safe.”
I don’t feel safe in my body. With my mind. With myself.
I feel alone and disconnected. I feel ashamed, embarrassed. I feel like a failure, a loser, a disappointment.
Alone because it’s safer by myself.
Disconnected because I avoid connection.
Ashamed because I think I should be somewhere other than where I am at.
Embarrassed that I couldn’t keep up the act I’ve held for years.
A failure because I don’t uphold the ideas I once thought of as success.
A loser because I make dirt money and had to move back in with my parents.
A disappointment because what status did I have in society now?
Success is a funny thing. I feel as though our society has a very preconceived picture of success.
Imagine an individual– they do well in school. They are well-liked, get good grades, do what they’re told and what they say they’re going to do. They get a job and they work hard. They do the work that’s not asked and they never show discontent at the work that is asked. They get promoted and congratulated. They are held in high-esteem by their peers, their boss, and their family.
They hear words of praise from their parents when talking to their friends and colleagues. They are boasted about on the internet and shown as a medal of honor.
Look how great they are. Look at what they do.
They find themselves preparing to move towards the next sign of success. Time to buy a home. What an achievement…
The order may be off, but next was the relationship & the family. All of the wonders of this life. What else could you want!
Success in that light, once mattered to me. I was going to be the best at whatever I did. I was going to do the work without complaint because it needed to be done. I would find a lover and be the best wife, then the best mother. Others couldn’t do what I do and it was because they were lazy, or they didn’t understand the game and how it worked. Follow these rules and get these rewards..
I get how it works and I don’t care anymore.
That kind of success doesn’t bring me anything.
I suppose that’s not entirely true. It brought me financial security. An elevated self-esteem with the $20/hr pay and $100-500 monthly bonuses.
Look at me. Look at what I can do.
Success has changed for me. It doesn’t look the way it once did. I don’t care about owning a house, climbing the career ladder, creating a family. None of that brings me peace, joy, or happiness.
My version of success is finding purpose. My purpose is serving others. That’s all I want to do. That’s what I feel called to do.
I found myself reliving the same narratives I’ve felt the past few months. So much has changed in my life and so quickly too. It’s wild how that happens.
I had a corporate job making the most money I’d ever seen. I was renting a house– had an approved contract on a house and had the financing to make it all happen. And every day it felt wrong.
I remember in my last interview telling my boss that I didn’t find the work we did to be fulfilling. I remember her eyes bulging from her head and a somewhat more angered tone coming out as she stated she was very proud of what she did and that “people still found time to do yoga on the weekends,” as though yoga is all it would take for life to be fulfilling. And mind you, I do find the all encompassing aspects of yoga to be fulfilling– but I’m very sure her mind was only conjuring the physical or asana practice.
It did not seem fulfilling to me to help people find roles in positions at corporations that continue to promote consumption at extraordinary rates, who pay their workers the bare minimum they needed in order to meet “market demands,” who continue to hoard wealth, and create a reality of scarcity when we inhabit a planet that I believe is meant to be abundant.
It all seems a facade. How can you feel fulfilled? How can you feel peace, joy, or happiness when you have all these things and yet, so many are struggling?
Success to me– looks like creating a new world. One where every kind of humanity is recognized. Where different isn’t better or worse, it’s just different and can be celebrated. Where abundance is the goal we all strive toward. Where service to self, other, and community is of the utmost importance.
I feel better having cried in the kitchen. To have allowed myself to be seen. I hope to one day find comfort and ability to respond when asked “What’s troubling you today,” instead of resorting to a screen to unload. I will accept myself where I am at and acknowledge that I want growth.
Discovering Happiness 