Work

This past week I've had two communications from people I used to work with.     They had been colleagues I was close to;  now I don't talk to them much at all.   It has brought up some very difficult and conflicting feelings about my transition from teaching a year and a half ago.    

Last year,  about this time,   I blogged about how I had faced burn-out as a teacher, how I had resigned from my job mid-year.    And how my burn-out seemed related to both of my parents' career fizzles when they had been about my age.

A part of my motivation for writing this blog is that I need to gradually transform my relationship to work,  and become a more grounded member of the workforce than I have been in the past.     My bottom line depends on it.

To be clear,  I have enjoyed success as a teacher.   There are a number of reasons why I suffered burn-out at my previous job as a teacher.    The primary one is that I had personal issues to work out.   The issues weighed on me more and more,  until I had lost the spark needed to be a good teacher,  and the parents started to complain.   

Interestingly,  some of the issues which were weighing on me had to with my relationship to work.   Both my models for how to be an adult,  mom and dad,   had basically been fired from professional jobs when they were,  give or take,   the age I am now.   

It wasn't just that I saw them fail at their jobs.   It was that I imprinted the field that got them into that kind of trouble.   I imprinted their behaviors,  mental attitudes,  and so on,  that both enabled them to be hired as professionals,  as well as their not being able to persevere in those jobs.   My mom was bailed out by her parents' small business.   My dad was not able to get his career on track,  was consumed by alcoholism,  and ended up killing himself some years later,  totally penniless.

Both of my parents are/were very smart.   They each had advanced degrees and held demanding professional jobs for at least some part of their working life.   I am also smart enough and though I don't (yet) have any advanced degrees,  I do have a several important things going for me:   1)  I don't have a mental illness,  2)  I don't have a drinking problem,  3)  I am willing to look at my own icky bits that get me into trouble,  and 4)  I have my wife.  

For the past few years,  as I've delved into my personal issues,  I have been somewhat fragile.   There is part of me which is confident,  self-assured,  and ready to take on the world.   This part of me is much less likely to be present lately.   One reason is that I am still rattled by having burned out of my job a year and a half ago.   Another reason is that I have been bringing up past traumas and trying to process them.   

My wife is an essential part of creating the home context where I feel safe enough to spelunk into these caves.   Because my wife is a steady and strong support to me,  I am able to "fall apart" a little bit so that I can see the pieces of my pain, have the space to acknowledge and  grieve them,  then move on with my life.   For the time being I am "underemployed" while I am going through this healing process.   My wife takes up a bunch of the slack.   The idea is that I will be stronger in the future and will pull my weight to a greater degree.   I see no reason to doubt that will happen.  And yet,  being in a more fragile state is not easy.   I am going to have to build back my confidence from where I am now.   

Sometimes I can go for days feeling like a wounded,  frightened little child.   In fact,  I have felt that way for the past few days.   

Ironically,  this state I find myself in is often sharply juxtaposed with my current relationship to my mom.    Just this week she was traveling in a big city by herself.   She lives in a small town and is not at all used to big cities.   I called her and she was walking down the street of this city,  happy as a clam,  as she chatted with me.  She had been to museums,  was going to meet distant relatives for lunch,  and so on.   She was definitely on the manic side of life,  though she seemed to be managing the logistics just fine.   

She was telling me how she wanted to take the bus back to the airport,  rather than take a cab.   "A cab costs so much,"  she said.   Immediately,  my mind went into parental mode:  "Is she aware enough of her surroundings?"  "What if she takes a bus and gets into trouble?"   I have had too many experiences to number that involve my mom's poor judgment leading her,  and often me,  into situations which rate from bad to very damaging.   My mind,  for just a second,  flashed on the "worst case" and I thought about how soon I could get a flight to that city.

As it turns out,  it must have all gone fine.   No phone calls since I spoke with her a few days ago.  No news is good news.

The irony is that here I am feeling like a wounded and frightened little kid inside,  while at the same I am acting like a parent to my own mother.   Welcome to my life.   Past,  present,  and hopefully to a lesser degree,  future.

So here I am in my life transition.    I am waiting to hear back from the graduate program that will move my aims along.   If I don't get in I will have to go to one of the plan Bs that are much less appealing than plan A,  at least from where I stand today.   It's all a bit uncertain.

I am also in my healing process,  which is a long process.   My therapy group work is helpful.   It's slow cooking of them seeds.   Last night I went to group and was pretty quiet.   I had all kinds of feelings swirling around inside of me but I did not share them.   They were too scary to speak.   They have to do with my fears about being a successful wage-earner,  about being able to rebound from my professional burn-out eighteen months ago.    My parents did not show me a way through this dark wood that I would ever want to take.   I have to find my own way.   It can be terrifying at times.

The sun is out,  the garden beckons.   Time to get dinner on the table.  Time to play with the dog.   Keep moving it forward.

Your comments are welcome.

Warmly, Ben