Patina

I remember thinking of it as a revelation, and a relief.  “He’s Just Not That Into You,” a book finally giving women everywhere permission to stop the all-consuming, endless cycle of analysis, the elaborate maze of mythical excuses love struck ladies conjure up for the oh-so-desirable date who displays inconsistent and tepid interest. The authors say there is no magical moment when a woman decides to face this truth, only that she becomes tired of it all and decides she wants something better for herself.  Love shouldn’t be this hard.

Work shouldn’t be this hard, either. At first I confuse it with growing pains.  I’m in a new job.  It is normal, I tell myself, to feel off kilter, a bit like I’m walking on marbles.  I should expect to be thrown into new situations and forced to improvise, to figure it out as I go.  I’m not going to get it right all the time.  It will be messy.  I train myself to be alright with this.

 

And so I over think it all. I wear out my sounding boards. My thirst for validation cannot be quenched. I say “yes” too quickly. I wonder if the word “no” is anywhere to be found in my lexicon. I wake up in the middle of the night, over successive nights, sweat rolling down my back. Not because I’m afraid of failing, I discover, but because I’m afraid of being found out.

I am a rule follower, and so I don’t immediately recognize the dissidence I feel. I find myself struggling as I’m being asked to make bigger, more impactful, riskier decisions. At first I think it’s because I’m not experienced enough. Until the reality becomes impossible to ignore:  I have plenty of experience, I just don’t believe in what we’re doing.

I’m reminded of a poem called "Good Bones" by Maggie Smith. She wants to shield her children from the awful truths about life, to somehow push the promise of this world we live in. She writes of a realtor taking prospects through a dismal property.  It’s got good bones, she quips, and you could make this place beautiful.

I believe we can make dismal beautiful. In some ways I may have a spent a career doing just that. But in order to achieve it we have to see the promise.  We have to look past what meets the eye and focus on the structure underneath.  And when the good bones just aren’t there, instead of pounding our heads against the wall or standing at the door that just won’t open, we need to cut our losses and move on. Years of time in the business world (and in therapy) have taught me to trust my gut. I recognize good bones quickly.

I want the freedom to cut my losses so I have the time to work on what shows promise. I want a chance to exercise all I have learned about leadership, inspiration, building a vision and making whatever I touch beautiful. I ask myself a question that has ebbed and flowed over the course of the past five years:  My responsibilities demand me to be windward to fear for causes I’m not passionate about.  What will it take for me to channel all of this energy and experience into work for causes I believe in? 

Exhaustion, pure and simple.  This is the conclusion I come to.  I’m just plain tired of an emotional investment netting so little return. For a brief time I think maybe I can just care less. Yet, this, the caring part, is what makes me extraordinary. And so I decide my energy needs to go to other places. It’s exciting and it’s scary all at the same time. I don’t know what it will look like or how it will unfurl. All I know is that it needs to happen because I want something better for myself. 

I want to make this place beautiful.