guess who

Identity theft is such a problem in this country. Nothing to joke about for sure. Yet I don’t worry about it as much as I probably should. I don’t have a paper shredder, I make purchases online, I never review my monthly statements to make sure I’m not being bled dry (my denial “problem” will probably be the topic of many future posts). I have a pretty cavalier approach to it – as I am sure many do. Maybe it’s because I have enough other stuff to worry about. But more and more I think it may be because I don’t feel I have an identity. The past decade has brought so many changes and twists and turns that the “me” that existed for most of my life no longer exists.

I am not sure who I am any more.

There have been a few troubling experiences over the past few months. Catching a glimpse of myself in a mirror and being shocked at who was there. Not just has my overall body changed but the features in my face are no longer familiar. My hair isn’t the same greasy mop that needed to be washed every day.

I don’t even know what foods I like any more because my taste buds have changed so much. Chocolate never held much allure for me but now I find I actually crave it sometimes. I used to be able to sit down and devour a bag of potato chips without batting an eye but now I find don’t get the same enjoyment. Of course that doesn’t stop me from eating them – I stupidly continue shoving them in my face waiting for the state of bliss they used to inspire.

Now some of this is good for sure. I am sure is far healthier for me not to inhale bags of chips. But over all I find it disturbing. Unsettling. And at times, jarring.

Those dark years after I lost my job were the starting point. So much of my identity was caught up in my job. I complained about it all the time but in many ways my job was my life. I got so much gratification from working for a big company and having a position in the spotlight. McGraw Hill was a Fortune 100 company – I had a staff and a great title. I spent lots of times in meetings and had authority. I got to travel – in a very nice style with an expense account and corporate card. But I also felt a bit like a fake. I rarely spoke up in meetings – usually just listened and regurgitated what I heard back like a good puppet. I was young and kinda cute and loved being one of the few women in the group. It was really a thrill at times.

And yet, I know it was wrong to put so much emphasis on it. Wrong to let it make me think I was somehow “better” or “smarter” because of my job. They say God whispers to you – softly at first – and then with increasing volume it gets louder and louder until you get hit upside your head with a 2x4. Since that’s exactly the point I got to, I have to imagine I ignored all kinds of messages – probably because I was distracted with the thought of my own self importance.

Losing my job – having to sell my house and then – horror of horrors, having to move home to Levittown. Well, that took so much out of me. My identity for sure and even a bit of my soul.

And what did I learn from that – did I learn my lesson? Because I am afraid I dodnt. I am now at a small, rinky dink company – the oppose of McH. I have a nothing little job – no importance and I rarely get to go to meetings where I have a voice. I have a hard time respecting many of the management team here as opposed to the borderline hero worship I had at McH. And now I feel myself spewing – complaining – thinking I know better than they do – thinking I am smarter than and better than.

What a shame.

I really need to get it under control. Decide who I want to me now that I’m no longer who I was. I know I had to get rid of all that bad ego stuff but – because I was such a poor learner – I also lost some of the good stuff. I was so much more confident then. So much less risk adverse. I need to do it in a caring and loving and non judgmental way - build an identity I can be proud of – something no one could ever steal or take away.

Today I’m grateful for
A gym in the building where I can go at lunchtime. Although 4 weeks of this working out and only 1 pound lost is not the best start – it is at least a start.
My son’s voice when he calls me on the phone. Today he went home with Julia and it was lovely to hear his 9 year old voice say hello.
Second – and third chances. I will do better this time.