Wednesday, December 28, 2016
If Wherever I Go There I Am, Then Where the Hell Am I?
I’m talking about career here. I’m in transition. Transition is a pretty word for not there and not quite here. Like when Wile E. Coyote jumped from cliff to cliff, running with all his might, little legs spinning, trying to catch that crafty Roadrunner. He suddenly finds himself, between the two cliffs, standing in midair. Freeze. Face to the camera. Gulp. Fall into the endless abyss. I am Wile E. Coyote.
I am not alone in this. I know, because you have shared your stories. Some of us are a little late coming to the midlife crisis table. Whether we are feeling burned out on our current careers or are trying to find ourselves after a lifetime of giving to our children, we have reached a point where we look around and ask, okay, what next? Who am I? Is this all there is? Why have I not accomplished more with my life? How do I move forward? Where can I find help or advice? Will there be cupcakes?
You know that feeling when you get in line at the grocery store? You’re standing there with your bag of organic veggie chips behind the mom with a cart packed full, babies hanging off the sides of the cart, another in the sling. No other lines are open. You stay where you are and wait.
I just want to put my bag of chips on the counter. I want to play the game.
I feel like I'm blindfolded during my turn at Pin the Tail on the Donkey. I keep spinning and spinning, but I never quite get to the point where, in my dizziness, I make my way to the wall and make everybody laugh by giving the donkey a tail-shaped penis. I never get there.
“Life is a journey, not a destination.” This is what I was told. I’d like to find comfort in that but I’m not sure I do. Instead, I pull up a memory of my undergrad days, standing in a darkened frat house, half smashed and drinking somebody else’s beer.
And then I remember. It’s not about me. It’s about us. And it’s not about the journey. Or the destination. It’s about the love. There is no fork. There is no turnpike. There is only now, this spot, exactly where we're standing, arms around shoulders, swaying to the song, reveling in the joy of this very moment, knowing that I am here for you and you are here for me. Que Sera, Sera. You knew it all along, Doris Day. You rock, girl. You rock.