It’s been long, strange, lifeless weekend for me. It’s been one of those weekends where I look back and can’t remember much about what I did or where I went.
I’ve come to the end of a long journey. I’ve come to the end of a decision that was made years ago that I’ve been rolling through ever since. I’ve taken the last leg of a career that I know is wrong for me, but up until recently have felt that I was powerless to change.
Friday I took the professional engineer’s test. It was a test that I was ill-prepared for. It was a test that went on for a grueling eight hours on all the knowledge I’ve gained in my career. First, I was surprised at how easy the questions seemed to be. I was expecting the test to be difficult, but all the questions seemed geared to what I do everyday at work. Second, and more important, I was surprised at the peace I seemed to feel when I left the test center. I felt like this was my chance for closure. I felt like this was the last major leg of a journey that I started years ago and that, now, there is no new ceiling to reach. From this point on (assuming I passed the test–which I won’t know until sometime in December), I am no longer a “trainee” of sorts. From this point on, there is no new learning process that I need to advance myself. From this point on, I am considered a professional in the career I’ve chosen.
So why does that give me peace of mind when I am so clearly in a career that I do not find fulfillment from? Simple: it means there is nothing more I have to prove to myself. It means that I have proven that I can make it this far and (yes) it means that it’s something–one last thing–that my dad can be proud of. I determined a long time ago that I stayed in this career as an homage to him. I chose this path to make him proud of me, something that I never felt I was able to do as a kid. And that gives me peace of mind. I can now choose a different direction with no apologies or remorse. I can now begin a new journey, a new path, towards something more fulfilling.
I already know what I’m supposed to do with my life. I already know the things that I would be most good at. And I seem to know that it will be no picnic getting there. I’ve been dickering around it for years now, avoiding it out of fear, believing that tomorrow will make it easier. Now I know the truth: that there is no easy path to where I want to be. There’s just the daily, constant sense of doing the things I need to do to get to where I want to be. And somehow that seems easier now that I have officially topped out in my current career.
The next day, Saturday, I spent all morning and part of the afternoon in a cub scout leader training course. For the past month I’ve been going with my nephew to his den meetings, offering my assistance to his den leader. About a week ago, I discovered that there was a group of kids who had no leader and were turned away because nobody would step up to do the job. I was surprised that nobody was willing to step up for the kids’ sake, so I told the cubmaster that I would do it. I have no previous knowledge of scouts (other than the brief stint I did when I was a kid), and have no idea what I’m doing, but I’m not going to let that stop me. I believe I am at my best when I am working with kids because I know kids. I’ve been working with them all my life and know that no matter what happens, I’m doing the right thing.
I thought the transition from Friday to Saturday seemed almost symbolic. I walk out of the test center for the last big transition from a career I do not feel is right for me and the next day I am training in something that applies to what I know I should be doing with my life.
Then, Sunday, I fell sick with a fever. I spent most of the day sleeping while my parents watched my kids. I doped myself up with Alka-Seltzer and rested my ass off, hoping that I would wake up today feeling good enough to go into work–which I did. Couple all of that with a conversation I had this past Thursday with a coworker, which brought up a lot of memories I had from church and my early experiences there, and I feel like I’ve been in la-la land for the past couple of days.
But today I awake renewed. I’m still a bit zonked from all the drugs I took yesterday. I’m still a bit out of it in terms of feeling good. But I am reminded, first and foremost, of all the things I’ve left behind me. I’m reminded of the decisions I’ve made in this decade and how those decisions have shaped the course of my life. I’m reminded of the roads I chose to follow and how, even now, I am choosing new roads daily. I’m reminded of that feelings that rest inside of me, dormant through the years of constant avoidance. I’m reminded how, in this decade, I found myself lost and alone after a relationship both began and ended.
I find myself looking forward to a new year–a new decade–filled with possibility and hope. And how all the pieces of a life derailed can come back together to bring me to where I need to be.
These are the things I leave behind me. These are the things I choose to forget.
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