A Resignation

A lifetime ago, I was almost in a bar fight.  Yep.  You read those words right.  I almost got into a fight at a bar.  Here's how it went down...

I went to a street dance at a local festival (Rutabaga Days, of all things) and we danced.  While on the dance floor, an intoxicated group of girls kept bumping into us.  I ignored the first few times because stuff happens.  After awhile, it got irritating. I unwisely gave one of the girls a nasty look and said, "Excuse me."  

Big mistake.  To be fair, I had also been drinking alcoholic beverages.  If I had been sober there is NO. WAY. I would have ever engaged with those girls in that way.  

Still, it was a mistake. Apparently these girls ruled Rutabaga Days and they did NOT want to be excused.  

I don't remember how it all went down, but I know that I quickly excused myself from the dance floor and they retreated to another side of the bar.  

Dirty looks were darted toward me for the next several minutes and I felt myself grow increasingly uncomfortable and anxious.  I needed to just get out of there, so we rounded up our group and began to make our way toward the door.

I wish that had been the end of that, but Rutabaga Girl had another idea in mind.  She approached me and said, "We can go outside and take care of this right now."

I looked at her in disbelief and replied, "Do you want to fight me?"

She looked at me with defiant scorn and said, "Yes."

I looked at her with continued disbelief and said, "But we're grown ups!"

Oh, dear.  Big mistake #2. As soon as the words left my mouth, I was certain that Rutabaga Girl was going to skip the going outside part and kick my butt right then and there.  Thankfully, my sister-in-law was there and stepped between us.  I have no idea what she said; I only saw her energetic hand gestures and assertive posture.  Rutabaga girl slunk away and we got to go home.  

When we returned home, the story was shared with laughter to my parents-in-law.  My sweet mother-in-law said, "I knew you shouldn't have gone.  Sara and [my husband at the time] are too gentle for things like that."  

Bless her heart.  Like, not in a Southern condescending way.  Like, really bless her heart.  She knew my spirit better than I did.  

I'm not good at fights, in or out of the bar.  I'm just not.  I don't know how to play the games that most people seem really good at.  I don't know how to schmooze or politic or play nice.  I don't know how to be anything other than my actual self.  I don't know how to be successful in the way the world has defined it.

I've spent most of my life chasing some form of validation.  In recent years, this chase has been within my career.  I had this notion that I had to be the best and in my line of work being the best means being someone I'm not.  It means going to work early, leaving late, and not taking lunch breaks when I'm someone who needs to take some exhales.  It means setting a zillion goals and jumping through a zillion hoops. It means spreading myself paper thin and burning my proverbial candle at both ends. It means competing in some way with all the other people with whom I work, only I don't know or understand he rules of this particular game.  

Some people thrive in this environment. Some people are good at doing all of these things. They live for it.  I am not some people, it seems.  

I've long been aware that I am very much like a fish out of water in this particular system.  For a long time, I blamed myself.  There was something wrong with me.  If only I could be better, do better, or play better, then I would feel better.  Then, I spent some time being mad at the system.  If I couldn't change, then the system had to.  

Then, the pandemic happened.  And life slowed down.  Waaaaaaaay down.  Things were cancelled or postponed. Life grew small.  The previously filled up calendar became full of blank days.  My world grew very small and I finally got to exhale.  The heavy weight that seemed permanently affixed to my chest was lifted.  I had time to just be.  I had time to spend with my brain and my soul and my God.  

In that space, I realized that there was nothing "wrong" with my workplace.  It was what systems of that size are.  I knew that's what it was when I signed up for the job.  

At the same time, there is nothing wrong with me either.  I mean, not in a fundamental way.  It was okay that I don't know how to "do" the politics of working in a big system.  It was okay that it didn't feel right to work myself to brink of exhaustion.  Some people are built for that.  I am not.  That is okay.  

So, what now? 

Well, I resigned.  

I mean, I didn't actually resign from my job.  But, I resigned from the fight.  I have resigned  from the race and the competition.  I decided that I was never going to catch up in this chase.  I was never going to get the validation and recognition I thought I wanted.  So, I just decided to quit. 

You see, for me, chasing the accolades and trying to be the 'best' meant that I was actually the 'worst' at what actually mattered most to me.  When I allow myself to get caught up in all of that, I become a version of myself that I don't like very much.  I get snippy and short and brittle and unhealthy.  That's the human that my colleagues and my family have to spend time with and that person is a real drag.  And it's not me.  I am not those things.  Not really.  

So, I'm done.  

This year, I will allow myself time to breathe.  I will arrive on time and leave when I am contracted to do so.  I will actually allow myself prep time and lunch time. I will say "no" once in a while to honor my boundaries and listen to the "no's" of others.  I will work hard to think before I speak or type.  I will work to bring grace with me in every interaction.  I will spend lots of time focusing on the being and less on the doing.  I will not worry about the race that others have decided to run and keep my eyes on my own prize: peace.   

Those who care about competition and winning and being the best won't understand.  They may internally shake their heads at me.  They may not understand why I am comfortable with a mediocre existence.  

Only, I will know that the rules for my particular game are a little different.  Their race works for them, but my way of being works for me.  And that's okay.  It's okay to know who you're meant to be and what space you're meant to inhabit.  

Long ago, my mother-in-law knew I was not meant to be in a space where bar fights could happen.  Now, I have that same wisdom for myself.  And also this time, I don't need my sister-in-law to get me out.  I've learned how to get myself out of hot spots.  

I'm a grown up.