Ever since I posted my New Year’s resolutions a few days ago, I’ve been thinking a lot about how to go about implementing them. While going through some paperwork the other day, I came across a little journal I had kept in 2000. At the time, I was living with someone else (my now-ex) in South Carolina, was an avid runner, and had a challenging but fun job as a grant writer for a private college. My boss and mentor was my favorite person, I had a beautiful office in a charming turn-of-the-century (the last century, that is) building, an expense account, a cell phone (not everyone had one at the time — remember those days?), was in the best shape of my life, and even had clear skin. In one of my journal entries, I even mentioned that had only gotten 7.5 hours of sleep one night. Sheesh. If I got 7.5 hours of sleep regularly now, I’d be one happy girl. Let’s face it: seven years ago, I had it goin’ on.
Naturally, things changed, and not just after my ex dumped me unceremoniously only months after my last diary entry. We had flown to Anguilla on Thanksgiving and spent 10 days on the island. Susan Sarandon, Tim Robbins and their kids had just left the island the week before, but this was still a good four years before Jennifer Aniston and Brad Pitt made their way here for their final vacation together, so it was still a very quiet, very isolated spot in the Caribbean, where residents and tourists alike hitchhike frequently (we picked up a cheerful student on her way home one afternoon), and you could enjoy an entire day on an empty beach to yourself.
We were only there for less than two weeks, but I remember being a different person when I came back. M. and I had fallen in love with the island and its people, the laidback lifestyle and gorgeous views of azure water, even the dry scrub that dotted the dunes and the mosquitos that dive-bombed unsuspecting sunbathers on certain areas along the shore. Just a few days before we returned to the mainland, we met with a real estate agent, and soon enough, we had submitted a hefty down payment on a quarter-acre lot with 360 views: the Atlantic on one side, and the Caribbean Sea on the other. The plan was to sell M.’s year-old BMW Z3 when we got home, use the proceeds to pay off the rest of the property, and then immediately begin building a house. (Anguilla’s laws strongly discourage speculative investments and require buyers to have a structure of a certain size and materials to be erected on any property within 18 months of purchase.) He would be fully vested at his tech company within 3 years, after which he would cash out, and we would retire to our island getaway.
Of course, you can guess how this ends. We never did anything with the property. M. and I split up only a month later, and he asked for (and received) the deposit back from the owner. Within months after the breakup, the tech boom exploded, which sent M.’s stock options plunging to about 1/20th of their 2000 valuation. It was probably a good thing he surrendered the Anguilla property, as we wouldn’t have been able to retire so soon anyway, leaving us with a very expensive, very distant vacation home.
The breakup really hurt me, but after the initial shock began to fade after about a month, I remember thinking, Okay, just get through this, and things will return to normal. You may not be looking at a future in the Caribbean anytime soon, but life will get back to the way it was, minus M., and you’ll be grateful for all the things that happened. End of story.
Except…it wasn’t. Oh sure, eventually my heart healed and I could go for long stretches without breaking into wracking sobs. (I’m nothing if not melodramatic.) In the weeks after the split, I couldn’t concentrate on my job very much, but my boss was super-understanding and even let me take an extra vacation week to recover. I thought that once I got over the loss, I would jump back into my routine, grateful for the chance to tackle some serious challenges that the college was facing. What ended up happening, however, is that for some reason, no matter how much I put in the hours at work, or what kind of stuff was dumped on my desk, or what exciting changes happened at the college (new president, my boss was retiring, our community-college partnerships were flourishing), I couldn’t find the inspiration and spark I once had. I thought that once I got out of my “funk,” I would flourish, now that I no longer was saddled with a depressing, oppressive relationship.
But no. The depression lifted, I was making new friends, and I had a new house that I rented from the college that I loved, as it was newly renovated and located directly across the street from the campus. At $500 a month for a 3-bedroom house with a big backyard, it was a steal. Still, I couldn’t shake off this listlessness, this feeling of being at the wrong place, as if I had woken up from a dream and realized that I no longer liked the reality of my life. No matter how much I tried to motivate myself, I couldn’t find any more reason to stay: not in my job, not even in the city in which I lived and where I had made so many friends. I loved the city, but for some reason, I realized that it was time for me to go.
That’s a very long introduction to the original purpose of this post. I was thinking about how it took me this long to come to grips with the fact that I don’t do well in ordinary office/corporate environments, and how I inevitably end up hating whatever cubicle I find myself trapped in. If you’ve ever seen Office Space (and if you haven’t, why not?), you’ll understand from whence I speak. I’d spent most of my twenties shuffling from one office job to another, thinking that I had made it (whatever it was), because I had the cell phone, the major medical benefits, the prestigious titles, the company car.
It wasn’t until M. and I made that visit to Anguilla that my thinking shifted, and I realized that I couldn’t bring myself to work in another cubicle for the rest of my life, even if that cubicle had four actual walls, a door and a view of a beautiful campus. And yes, I know that people frequently have that epiphany while on vacation, especially if they’re lucky enough to be on a tropical island. But more often than not, it remains just an epiphany, and we return to our offices and our suits and Blackberries, resigned to the fact that this is our life.
I’ve never really been able to shake off that feeling, though, and the breakup with M. only exacerbated this sense that I was merely sleepwalking through life, rather than actually living it. I heard someone on NPR yesterday whisper in a raspy voice that “you should live everyday as if it were your last, because you never know — it may actually be your last.” A little dramatic, yes, and who hasn’t heard that trite saying before? But it’s so true, and I think that’s the one lesson I took away from the Anguilla trip and the horrible breakup that followed a few weeks later. (I suspect that — while we certainly didn’t know it at the time — the Anguilla trip was actually our last, desperate attempt to save our dying relationship.) Life could change so quickly, and you could find yourself adrift at anytime. What are you doing to fulfill your dreams, so that when challenges inevitably occur, you’re not caught unawares with the knowledge that you’ve been asleep at the wheel the whole time?
One of the reasons why I began My Inner French Girl was so that I could have a diary of sorts to chronicle this long and twisted journey of becoming who I’ve always wanted to be: intellectually, emotionally, even physically. I’ve always admired Frenchwomen — or at least, the mythical Frenchwoman that we Americans like to conjure up when we’re dissatisfied with ourselves — and their self-possession, their unflappability, strength, and practicality. I enjoy the discussions about cosmetics, beauty, and fashion, but it’s their inner lives that I’m most interested in, how they craft satisfactory lives that fulfill the needs not only of their bodies but also their minds and souls. They’ve always struck me as being creatures who fully inhabit their selves, who have rich inner lives with emotional and intellectual depth, an appreciation of culture and beauty that goes well beyond the latest runway trends and beauty products.
I think the seed for this thinking was planted on the sands of Anguilla and is still struggling to push its way through the earth. The resolutions I created for 2008 represent one giant leap forward in fulfilling these dreams, in tapping My Inner French Girl and her unfathomable gifts. I’m sure she’s up to the task. The question, of course, is: Am I?
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{ 11 comments }
OH MY GOD. This was a great post.
I’ve felt like a mess for the past few days. Hating my career choices mostly. This sums up a few feelings I have – office jobs are not my thing, wandering in a place I like but know that I need to move on, etc.
Now I must get my arse off the chair, drive over the stupid bridge and sit my arse in another chair for 10 hours. Wheeeee!
Um, yeah, I think you are.
What a monumental post. Shifting from joy to devastation to faux happiness to ennui to where you’re at now. You have to watch setting the posting bar too high or we’ll expect this all the time.
Oh, you still have my stapler.
Red swingline stapler…HA HA.”She said I could listen to the radio at a reasonable volume.
Really great post. As always, I admire the depth and breadth of your blog.
You make such important points about appearances and coming to the truth of what YOU really value. When I read your posts of today, and yesterday and the day before that—I always think that you’ve got it going on and I would continue to think that even if you never kept a single resolution(yet, I know you will meet and exceed them).
Sartre and Simone, watch out, there’s a new existentialist in town and she’s got it goin’ on!
I really enjoyed this post, it is very moving. I am 21 year old and will graduate in December with a Bachelor’s degree and have been worrying nonstop about what to do with my life after college. I always thought an office job would do, seeing that I work in an office part time right now. Reading your post made me realize that the office thing might not be for me, no matter how much easier and secure that career track would be.
I enjoy reading your blog, and I think you are a fantastic woman! I admire the way you put all your emotions, fears, triumphs, and experiences out there. I wish you all the best for this year!!! Im sure you will achieve all of your resolutions and come out a winner at the end of 08!!!
Best wishes,
tanya
GREAT POST!!!!!
I’m a retired American, originally from San Francisco, who’s lived in Anguilla for 20 years, on a very remote beach.
I do volunteer consulting work (governance, environmental policy, democratic institutions, public works, history, archaeology) in the British Overseas Territories. As part of my work I look at new internet postings that mention Anguilla, so that’s how I came to see this very moving blog. I could never go back – I know how it feels.
I’ve been single for several years, and after a difficult time that was more like a contest than a relationship it’s been nice being able to do what I want with my own time. But I’d consider sharing my life with the right woman. I’m in exceptionall good shape and expect her to be the same.
Alas, she would have to move to Anguilla, and love beaches and sailing.
Bob
What a wonderful post. It looks as if quite a few of us are in the same quandary.
Early last year I left a very cushy, flexible office job to pursue my dream career. I gave up great pay, benefits, hours, coworkers and the best boss for a chance to realize my true career.
Unfortunately, it has not worked out according to plan. Though I enjoy the idea of my new career, the rose-colored glasses have come off.
I have tried 3 different jobs within this career and have found them all to be unsatisfactory. I’ve suffered unethical bosses, negative and compacent coworkers, and a loss of much free time and creativity. And this was supposed to be a ‘creative’ career!
It has been such a struggle this past year that I no longer enjoy this field of work. I feel I made a mistake in making what should have remained a hobby into a full-blown career.
Now, I long for my cushy office job again. It may not be the dream job I envisioned, but it is the job that allowed me to dream. And it afforded me the flexibilty and means to pursue these dreams in my spare time.
Don’t get me wrong, I am so happy that I took the leap and tried to make a go of it. This particular field just didn’t cut it for me. Best of all, this shift gave me a new appreciation for what I had and what I would like to go back to.
I think if you have great dreams, try and realize them. Just be cautious and don’t be suprised if the grass isn’t always greener. But you’ll never know unless you try.
Bonjour, Colleen! Thank you so much for your comment! Yeah, I hear ya, girl. Sometimes I feel as if I’m being self-indulgent in my whining. I know I’m quite fortunate in my circumstances, having lots of free time to write my novel, enjoying my friendships (off- and online!). Time spent whining is time not spent fulfilling your dreams, non? And yet sometimes, one inevitably steps back and thinks, What am I doing?? Is that what I really want? More importantly, can I do it?
I sympathize with you, mon amie, and the struggles you face and will continue to face as you make your way across the continent and over the Atlantic. Still, I’m glad that you are making a decision to change your circumstances rather than simply whining about something and not doing a thing about it. You’re way ahead of many people!
Randal, a million thanks for the compliment! I wrote the post in a rather contemplative frame of mind, and my first thought when I finished it was, what a messy piece of shit. I’m glad it was at least coherent to you, if not to me.
Hah! I’m telling Lumberg on you, and then we’ll see who’s gonna end up in the basement.
Colleen, I’m gonna need you to work this Saturday. Mmmm…yeah…
Chere LBR, thank you for your kind words! I really dont’ think I’m as put together as I make myself out to be online, but I appreciate that you think I am! I’m not too worried, though, as when I’m in my more stable states of mind, I realize that the process of maturing and figuring out what I want out of life is actually quite fun. It’s interesting how so many of us Francophiles are experiencing very similar states of being, non?
And I’m mortified that I misspelled existentialist in my title and didn’t realize it until much later in the day. As someone who’s such a stickler for spelling that I’ve been guilty of judging a person’s entire character based on their spelling ability, I’m ashamed.
Tanya, merci for your compliments and your comment! Take heart that you’re still so young and have lots of time to figure out what you want out of life. Don’t get me wrong — I regret almost nothing of my twenties, despite the fact that I spent most of it in office jobs that ultimately didn’t fulfill me. If nothing else, I gained tons of experience that will likely serve me well as I write my books!
I don’t mean to disparage office jobs, but if you lean towards a creative profession and fear that the renumeration won’t be enough to keep body and soul together, know that more often than not, those fears are entirely unfounded. We don’t live in nineteenth century Montparnasse anymore, when artists had no choice but to live in rat-infested hovels because they were unable to do anything else. In this day and age, with our long lifespans and college degrees, we can reinvent ourselves time and again. Never take the advice from someone who doesn’t know you, but I’ll try anyway: do what you love, and see where it takes you. If it doesn’t work out, you’ll still have plenty of time to recoup and find another career option that may suit you better. I’m 35 and have reinvented myself a dozen or more times. Hasn’t helped my retirement account much, but I’ve gained so much more in terms of self-awareness and self-confidence.
I’m still searching, and sometimes I have these moments (like yesterday!) when I feel as if I’m just drifting — sleepwalking — but then I pull myself together and realize that, hey, I’m only 35! Better to pursue my dream now than wait another 10 or 20 years and get to this point again: “I’m 45 and I haven’t even come close to fulfilling my dream.”
Merci, CC! So good to hear from you!
Bonjour, Bob! You wouldn’t happen to be Bob Greene, the guy who sends out those Anguilla e-newsletters? Just curious. Thank you for your comment! I envy you, living in Anguilla. I still sometimes dream about the place and wish I could find a way to retire there someday. Good luck in finding the woman of your dreams! With what you have to offer, I wouldn’t doubt you’ll find her.
Dear Shar, thank you so much for the reality check. I completely agree with you that not everyone will be able to find their dream career or life immediately, no matter how passionately and completely we pursue it. I’ve had more than two dozen jobs in my life, and nearly each time, I’d think, yup, this is exactly what I want! And yet each time, I’d find that what I liked about them was the prestige they gave me or the benefits I enjoyed, rather than the job itself. I think I’ve only had one or two jobs in which I felt really fulfilled. Most of them were not “creative” jobs, but rather office-bound positions that required a kind of corporate behavior I could mimic but not sustain.
One job I tried was that of travel writer. That is, until I realized that running around for hours tracking down minutiae such as business hours and bus schedules and taking copious notes while wandering around a sightseeing attraction was more work than fun. Unless you’re Jan Morris or Paul Theroux, you’re rarely able to write in your own voice or to explore what interests you. Rather, you must mask your identity and replace it with that of your employer, the magazine or newspaper or Web site that pays you to write about X or Y destination. It didn’t take long for that to get old.
Still, I take the attitude that life is short, so why not pursue your dreams for as long as you can? In the end, all I really want to be able to do is say that I have no regrets. And if all else fails, I can always go back to the corporate world, make tons of money, and publish my own damn books.
Salut,
Marjorie
I know the Greens. Nice people. They’ve done a lot for the island. They’re moving to St. Barths.
Bonjour, Bob! Too bad about the Greens. I don’t think I’ve gotten a report from Bob Green in a while, and this news about their relocation is probably the reason behind it. I like St. Bart’s, but I think I’d prefer to live in Anguilla.
Salut,
Marjorie
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