I don't really know who I am right now. What a weird feeling to have at 32 when my life should, in some way, be figured out. I lost my job. At the beginning of March due to the Pandemic. At the beginning I was hopeful and optimistic. The very beginnings of quarantine I felt overwhelmed by losing my job but also hopeful. In this weird other universe type feeling, March almost felt like a vacation, I felt positive I'd get my job back in the summer, and things would go back to normal, and mine as well try to have a positive mindset until then. Summer came, and summer is quickly passing and we're still where we were in the beginning of March, but the only difference here is it's no longer fun, and I've lost hope.
I never realized I put so much identity into what I did for a living. Sure, upon meeting for the first time, people always ask " What do you do?" For awhile it was after school site director, which I never felt too proud of because it was a job I felt stuck in. And then, I fell into something I actually gave a shit about, and felt pride. Working for a magazine, being on set to produce photo and videos, helping style products gave me a creative purpose in life and it felt good! And then the pandemic hit, and I lost my job, and now, I've been struggling these last six months to figure out who I truly am without work.
It's been heavy. I've cried a lot. I've been feeling depressed and anxious and worthless in this current life of fucking honestly trying to figure out who I am, what I stand for and what I care about. And then, there's the flip side. What if life isn't meant to find a purpose? We're constantly fed this bullshit of the hustle and grind and to be great you have to be even greater! What if, life isn't meant to tell others you found your purpose through work. What if, life is meant to literally stop and smell the roses. To feel fulfilled by a hug or being in the present of making your morning cup of coffee. What if it's not keeping up with the Jones's and blasting on social media every material thing you've acquired or where you've traveled. What if it's about not giving a fuck, but giving all the fucks, but where the fucks should rightfully be given. What if my purpose is to bring love to my friends and family every time they enter my home, to make them feel welcomed and accepted. What if my purpose is to fully enjoy repotting a plant that has been sitting in a too small planter for too long? What if my purpose is to sit, with my feelings, accept the depression, the anxiety, the fear of being unemployed, but just sitting, and understanding at the core of all this, I am still who I've always been outside of work.
Life's been weird, it's been challenging and draining and frustrating and exhausting and too abrasive for me right now. But I'm getting through it. I'm figuring out who I am. Right now, I'm a 32 year old who has no idea what her future looks like (that's okay), has enjoyed making bracelets (I zone out), taking long walks in the neighborhood (while listening to a good podcast), has found joy in laughing at internet memes (man, there are good one's out there), compares myself to others (really working on this, it's not good, not good at all), finds so much joy in all the plant life around my space (I think I am finally getting the hang of being a plant mom), writing in my journal from time to time, understanding what makes a good martini, doing DIY projects around the house, reading, a lot, connecting with the people I love most in this world, sitting in silence and reflecting what I am grateful for, crying because I'm full of anxiety and I need a release, feeling happiest when laughing too hard, and loving, hard. What I do know is I'm emotional, impulsive and a fucking human just being; if that's what's life purpose is about, then I'm learning to accept it.
