Posts
My whole life, I’ve wanted to be someone else. I’ve always struggled with feeling like I’m too short or too fat or too hairy or too sickly or too insecure or too anxious or too dumb or too this or too that or not enough of anything to be worth loving as I am. This constant pursuit of trying to escape myself has translated into my career as well.
I’ve always wanted to be one of the guys. Not in a gender identification sort of way, I actually have always been satisfied with and identified with being born female, despite all the woes and heartache and pain that comes with being born a natural woman -- something I am truly feeling as of late (oh the joys of the changes that come in the mid-thirties).
No, when I say that I want to be one of the guys, it means that I have always enjoyed “guy” stuff more than “girl” stuff. Instead of playing house and dress-up, I climbed trees and played “Cowboys and Indians.” As I got older, I fell in love with cars, and found myself in automotive trade school rather than college. Over the years, I have displayed an innate mechanical inclination that makes me quite an excellent mechanic, fabricator, and general handy-person. One of my happy places is being in a well equipped shop with good people, working on a car. The combination of problem solving, novelty, using one’s hands, and seeing the results of your work manifest in a well operating machine that would otherwise be useless without your intervention, is one that speaks to my very heart and soul on an intrinsic level. Plus, it’s damned good fun.
Very few people want a cute lil girl in their shop, however. Oh, they love to have me as a service writer, or in parts research, or coordinating the projects for the operation, but even with my portfolio, and certifications, and references, they hesitate in letting me onto the sacred and hallowed ground of their shop/garage/pit.
I thought I could fight the powers that be, the status quo, and maybe I still could if I kept fighting. Maybe I could have already if I had fought harder, I’m not sure. But, after decades of hearing shit like “No tits in the pits!” and attempting to quite literally force my way into work places where I’m not wanted, I’ve decided to pause and take a step back. Breathe, assess the situation, face reality for what it is, as harsh as it is, and see how I can use this energy for me, rather than against me. (And to those few who have embraced me for who I am and let me work in their shops and on their precious projects, I thank and praise you from the bottom of my greasemonkey heart!)
Maybe if it was just the fight for equality, I’d keep pushing on the way I have. But it’s more than that. My fucking health, man, it just keeps switching up on me and keeping me on my toes. One of the only constants I’ve known is the inconstant state of my health. I’ve been fighting that too, which is as futile as fighting the tides, trying to force myself into a mold that doesn’t fit. My health hasn’t been stable enough for me to work full time outside the home since 2011. Much as I love working on cars, most of the time wrenching hurts, to be quite frank. The pain certainly puts a damper on things and causes my performance to suffer. That is not good for me or the client. That is called a lose-lose. I'm not a fan of lose-lose. And so, I pause, unsure...
Oscillating back and forth between what I want to do and what's realistic has caused me to hesitate in all that I'm doing. Hesitation can screw you in life. It slows you down, robs you of momentum, costs you time.
So instead of oscillation, how can I bring more balance back into my life? How can I harness this energy to work in my favor? How can I find a way to cultivate reciprocity, rather than trying to fight the way things are? After all this time of rebelling, how do I find solace in existence and go with the flow?
The one other constant I’ve known is the written word. What’s so wrong with being a writer who works from home and who wrenches and does all the other things when she can, on her own schedule and preference? The written word has been my first love my whole life anyhow, and yet, that is something I have run from as well. I never allowed myself to believe I had the ability to create a good living as a writer, even when my career started in journalism in 2001 based upon a fan-fic submission, and even when I was able to pay my rent off articles that went viral, I was never content to “just be a writer.” I have always been seeking beyond myself, when really, I have all I need right here, inside myself.
When one steps back and considers all the telecommuting options available to those in my position, it really is a marvel. I should be overwhelmed with joy and wonder at all the technology that makes working from wherever my laptop happens to be a reality. Telecommuting is a chronically ill person’s dream, and I should be celebrating this opportunity everyday, rather than cursing what I’m unable to do.
This doesn’t mean I’m done with cars or all the other things. I still have plans for future businesses that will allow me to scratch my wrenching itch, while providing good service, and working around my health. They just have to be on hold for a moment while I get my affairs in order and recover from the losses suffered by my hesitation.
It’s okay to just be myself, even if that can be messy sometimes. It’s my mess and so therefore it's beautiful and perfect -- like the way grain flows in wood, or water flows in a stream. You never see Mother Nature oscillate in her existence, questioning if this tree is growing the right way, or if that piece of marble has the right markings -- It just is, and in so being, is balanced and beautiful and flows ever onward.
Here’s to flowing like water.
I always heard that when you hit your mid-thirties, you finally start to accept and understand yourself -- if that’s what this is, then 35 ain’t so bad...
I’ve always wanted to be one of the guys. Not in a gender identification sort of way, I actually have always been satisfied with and identified with being born female, despite all the woes and heartache and pain that comes with being born a natural woman -- something I am truly feeling as of late (oh the joys of the changes that come in the mid-thirties).
No, when I say that I want to be one of the guys, it means that I have always enjoyed “guy” stuff more than “girl” stuff. Instead of playing house and dress-up, I climbed trees and played “Cowboys and Indians.” As I got older, I fell in love with cars, and found myself in automotive trade school rather than college. Over the years, I have displayed an innate mechanical inclination that makes me quite an excellent mechanic, fabricator, and general handy-person. One of my happy places is being in a well equipped shop with good people, working on a car. The combination of problem solving, novelty, using one’s hands, and seeing the results of your work manifest in a well operating machine that would otherwise be useless without your intervention, is one that speaks to my very heart and soul on an intrinsic level. Plus, it’s damned good fun.
Very few people want a cute lil girl in their shop, however. Oh, they love to have me as a service writer, or in parts research, or coordinating the projects for the operation, but even with my portfolio, and certifications, and references, they hesitate in letting me onto the sacred and hallowed ground of their shop/garage/pit.
I thought I could fight the powers that be, the status quo, and maybe I still could if I kept fighting. Maybe I could have already if I had fought harder, I’m not sure. But, after decades of hearing shit like “No tits in the pits!” and attempting to quite literally force my way into work places where I’m not wanted, I’ve decided to pause and take a step back. Breathe, assess the situation, face reality for what it is, as harsh as it is, and see how I can use this energy for me, rather than against me. (And to those few who have embraced me for who I am and let me work in their shops and on their precious projects, I thank and praise you from the bottom of my greasemonkey heart!)
Maybe if it was just the fight for equality, I’d keep pushing on the way I have. But it’s more than that. My fucking health, man, it just keeps switching up on me and keeping me on my toes. One of the only constants I’ve known is the inconstant state of my health. I’ve been fighting that too, which is as futile as fighting the tides, trying to force myself into a mold that doesn’t fit. My health hasn’t been stable enough for me to work full time outside the home since 2011. Much as I love working on cars, most of the time wrenching hurts, to be quite frank. The pain certainly puts a damper on things and causes my performance to suffer. That is not good for me or the client. That is called a lose-lose. I'm not a fan of lose-lose. And so, I pause, unsure...
Oscillating back and forth between what I want to do and what's realistic has caused me to hesitate in all that I'm doing. Hesitation can screw you in life. It slows you down, robs you of momentum, costs you time.
So instead of oscillation, how can I bring more balance back into my life? How can I harness this energy to work in my favor? How can I find a way to cultivate reciprocity, rather than trying to fight the way things are? After all this time of rebelling, how do I find solace in existence and go with the flow?
The one other constant I’ve known is the written word. What’s so wrong with being a writer who works from home and who wrenches and does all the other things when she can, on her own schedule and preference? The written word has been my first love my whole life anyhow, and yet, that is something I have run from as well. I never allowed myself to believe I had the ability to create a good living as a writer, even when my career started in journalism in 2001 based upon a fan-fic submission, and even when I was able to pay my rent off articles that went viral, I was never content to “just be a writer.” I have always been seeking beyond myself, when really, I have all I need right here, inside myself.
When one steps back and considers all the telecommuting options available to those in my position, it really is a marvel. I should be overwhelmed with joy and wonder at all the technology that makes working from wherever my laptop happens to be a reality. Telecommuting is a chronically ill person’s dream, and I should be celebrating this opportunity everyday, rather than cursing what I’m unable to do.
This doesn’t mean I’m done with cars or all the other things. I still have plans for future businesses that will allow me to scratch my wrenching itch, while providing good service, and working around my health. They just have to be on hold for a moment while I get my affairs in order and recover from the losses suffered by my hesitation.
It’s okay to just be myself, even if that can be messy sometimes. It’s my mess and so therefore it's beautiful and perfect -- like the way grain flows in wood, or water flows in a stream. You never see Mother Nature oscillate in her existence, questioning if this tree is growing the right way, or if that piece of marble has the right markings -- It just is, and in so being, is balanced and beautiful and flows ever onward.
Here’s to flowing like water.
I always heard that when you hit your mid-thirties, you finally start to accept and understand yourself -- if that’s what this is, then 35 ain’t so bad...
Comments
Post a Comment