Identity Work, Late 2007: Part 2
As if all that writerly existential angst and identity work wasn't enough, there is also the more traditional kind: the "what I do for money" kind. As previously mentioned, I have just waved a jaunty goodbye to the world of working for others and struck out into the wild jungle of self-employment. Which is terrifically adventurous, yes, and exciting--but ohmygod who knows what will try to eat me here in this jungle? Thank God Josh and I are in the same adventuring party together here--I'd be way more angst-full if I didn't have a traveling companion.
Or to put it another way (since here on Parentheticals we never use only one consistent metaphor--where's the fun in that?), my recent adventurous leap off the cliff into the unknown is still going. I thought I was almost at the bottom, but it appears that this cliff was a lot higher than I thought, and I'm still falling. Six months ago, when I kicked over my job of 5 years for a new gig, I did not realize that this--starting our own business--was what I was plummeting towards, way down the cliff below the cloud layer. I've been an employee all my working life (which is kind of funny considering that both my parents are entrepreneurs who have run their own successful businesses for over 30 years). I went from little piddly college jobs into academia (in many ways the ultimate in indentured servitude), figured out I didn't like it enough there, and pretty much by accident (and a well placed temp job) moved into the world of manufacturing and consumer products. I worked for a mid-sized company that made calendars and stationery for 5 years, and then when that company started to implode, made the leap to being employee number 2 in a small entrepreneurial licensing agency.
Looking back from my current vantage point, that leap from semi-corporate to tiny business was the logical preparatory step towards the skydiving adventure I'm having now, but of course I didn't realize it--or treat it that way--at the time. I was too wrapped up in the safe, easy identity of being an employee (and to be honest, in the huge identity work of becoming a mother) to fully clue into the fact that I was also in entrepreneur training school, so in some ways I think I squandered that education. Luckily, I was given another shot at getting the education I apparently needed through the leap I made to this last gig, wherein the company itself sells training for entrepreneurs and wealth builders through seminars and coaching. How much more obvious could the Universe be by giving me that opportunity?
Ok, tangent: it may sound overly California "woo-woo" but I truly believe that we are given (whether by our own subconscious or by God or the Universe or however you choose to frame it) the lessons and preparation we need, when we need it. The overarching lesson of our lives is to learn how to PAY ATTENTION, and not only learn to take the opportunities offered to us sooner rather than later, but to continue to put these opportunities into the broader context of our entire life narratives. In other words the point of living is to be curious and have adventures, and then, at the end, to tell some sort of coherent story about it to the other monkeys.
Ok enough about that, I'm clearly about as far from "coherent story" as possible right now. Time to focus back in on the original topic, which was how, for this monkey, becoming self-employed has created 1) identity work and 2) existential angst. And really, most of what I wanted to say can be summed up like this: I'm in the process of learning how to think about myself in a whole new way, as captain of my ship, or at least of someone minimally in control of the parachute. I'm having to re-evaluate (and become less attached to) what I'm good at, and learn to not look to external validation for my motivation or my happiness. But of course it's terrifying as well as exciting--because with no one to tell me what to do and when to do it, my life, ultimately, is what *I* make of it. Agency is scary and sometimes the boundaried cage looks really attractive, especially when I'm tired or it's raining outside.
But I'm proud of myself for being a brave adventurer. This fluttery feeling in my stomach is something I choose to see as fun and exciting, not as nausea. Ok, well maybe it's both. Anybody know how to work this parachute thing?
Or to put it another way (since here on Parentheticals we never use only one consistent metaphor--where's the fun in that?), my recent adventurous leap off the cliff into the unknown is still going. I thought I was almost at the bottom, but it appears that this cliff was a lot higher than I thought, and I'm still falling. Six months ago, when I kicked over my job of 5 years for a new gig, I did not realize that this--starting our own business--was what I was plummeting towards, way down the cliff below the cloud layer. I've been an employee all my working life (which is kind of funny considering that both my parents are entrepreneurs who have run their own successful businesses for over 30 years). I went from little piddly college jobs into academia (in many ways the ultimate in indentured servitude), figured out I didn't like it enough there, and pretty much by accident (and a well placed temp job) moved into the world of manufacturing and consumer products. I worked for a mid-sized company that made calendars and stationery for 5 years, and then when that company started to implode, made the leap to being employee number 2 in a small entrepreneurial licensing agency.
Looking back from my current vantage point, that leap from semi-corporate to tiny business was the logical preparatory step towards the skydiving adventure I'm having now, but of course I didn't realize it--or treat it that way--at the time. I was too wrapped up in the safe, easy identity of being an employee (and to be honest, in the huge identity work of becoming a mother) to fully clue into the fact that I was also in entrepreneur training school, so in some ways I think I squandered that education. Luckily, I was given another shot at getting the education I apparently needed through the leap I made to this last gig, wherein the company itself sells training for entrepreneurs and wealth builders through seminars and coaching. How much more obvious could the Universe be by giving me that opportunity?
Ok, tangent: it may sound overly California "woo-woo" but I truly believe that we are given (whether by our own subconscious or by God or the Universe or however you choose to frame it) the lessons and preparation we need, when we need it. The overarching lesson of our lives is to learn how to PAY ATTENTION, and not only learn to take the opportunities offered to us sooner rather than later, but to continue to put these opportunities into the broader context of our entire life narratives. In other words the point of living is to be curious and have adventures, and then, at the end, to tell some sort of coherent story about it to the other monkeys.
Ok enough about that, I'm clearly about as far from "coherent story" as possible right now. Time to focus back in on the original topic, which was how, for this monkey, becoming self-employed has created 1) identity work and 2) existential angst. And really, most of what I wanted to say can be summed up like this: I'm in the process of learning how to think about myself in a whole new way, as captain of my ship, or at least of someone minimally in control of the parachute. I'm having to re-evaluate (and become less attached to) what I'm good at, and learn to not look to external validation for my motivation or my happiness. But of course it's terrifying as well as exciting--because with no one to tell me what to do and when to do it, my life, ultimately, is what *I* make of it. Agency is scary and sometimes the boundaried cage looks really attractive, especially when I'm tired or it's raining outside.
But I'm proud of myself for being a brave adventurer. This fluttery feeling in my stomach is something I choose to see as fun and exciting, not as nausea. Ok, well maybe it's both. Anybody know how to work this parachute thing?
Leave a comment