I’ve decided to do a few things.
The next 6 weeks are going to be intense to make #2 and #3 happen… but saying my goals outloud is the first part of the journey.
I felt like I’ve been trapped in limbo for decades.
The whole time I was in law school I felt unsettled, like I was in limbo because my future hung on wherever I got a job. And i had no idea where or when that might be. Thankfully, I had a job when I graduated. Unfortunately, it was temporary, so I stayed in limbo. As my clerkship started to wind down, I explored my options and decided to move my family to California.
Afterall, the job market for lawyers was much stronger there and I didn’t really know where else to go.
California–oh, California, you had so much promise! When we moved to California we weren’t free of limbo right away. We’d moved into a small, temporary apartment since we wanted to find jobs, feel out the area, and then decide where we wanted to live. What was a few more months of limbo, after all?
For 6 months we lived in the worst kind of limbo. We were living in a furnished apartment with boxes of our belongings all over the place. I’d periodically tear open a box looking for a shoe. Scott and I both found jobs, and then quit those jobs. And found other ones. The whole time I was also wondering if I passed or failed the California bar exam. All the uncertainty was almost too much to bare.
But finally — we found an apartment we loved, jobs we could stand and it felt like maybe–just maybe— I could finally put down some roots… and then we both got laid off.
Well, to be fair, I got laid off and Scott was on the chopping block at his office.
After too many bad things happened in California, we decided to abandon it for my hometown of New York. I needed to be somewhere that made me happy to get through the tumultuous year that California had been.
Shortly after moving to New York I had a crisis of identity–I didn’t know if I could be a lawyer anymore, after everything that had happened to me in California (read: sexual harassment). I felt unsettled not just in my home but my life. Then I got a book deal and my limbo got worse.
For the next year I had one foot still in the law, and the other foot in the another career. I spent the entire year feeling like I was holding my breath. I was waiting to see if the alternative career would work out–would my book sell? or would I have to go back to being a lawyer? It was the most uncertain time of my life. I had absolutely no idea what my future would hold. I didn’t know what foot to move.
And in the midst of all that Scott found out he might be transfered. His company beat around the bus for weeks and I didn’t know if I was coming or going. Were we moving or not? And it wasn’t just a move up the street but a move out of the country.
I’d lived in limbo for a long time, bit it wasn’t quite like that.
Some relief, albeit temporarily, came when we moved. At least that question was answered but I still continued to hold my breath.
The move abroad only perpetuated limbo too since it was a year assignment. It was a year of more limbo.
My book eventually came out, and it did well, but not so well that I could decide between my two feet. I’d exhaled, but couldn’t shake the feeling like I was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
We have 6 months left on this island and I don’t know where we’re going from here. I don’t know what career I’ll ultimately choose. I don’t know…anything…
but I have to believe I’ll plant a tree someday.
Lately I’ve become very sensitive to noticing when people are projecting. It all started earlier this year when someone accused me of something they do themselves.
It reminded me of that grade school lesson how when you point one finger at someone, three other fingers point back at you.
Ever since then I’ve realized that every time someone is accusing me for something I’m clearly not, it’s because that characteristic, trait, etc is actually something they hold inside of them. Whether they want to admit it or not.
Tonight, for example, I was called a racist. Actually Scott was the one called a racist but the speaker was talking about us and “our people” in general.
This person had left his dogs unattended on the beach.
Actually, let me back up. There are a lot of “wild dogs” on this island — and while some are friendly, most are not. Since no human was around these two dogs, we assumed they were wild and like any prudent person does with a wild animal you leave it alone and avoid it.
So, Scott & I went to the far other end of the beach away from the dogs. We stayed there for a long while enjoying the sunset and noticed one of the dogs kept creeping closer. We moved down still farther until there was no where else to go.
Eventually the dog had gotten so close that Scott started making very loud bark-like noises at the dog trying to scare it away. He wasn’t trying to hurt the dog as much as he was trying to scare it away or show the dog who was in charge. It’s what dogs do to each other when their hair stands up and they bark. It was natural. It was the best option–we had no where else to go (the beach ends with a giant rock formation), and the dog was also blocking the only way we could go to leave the beach…we figured us walking towards the dog would be ever worse, so scaring him off with words was the best choice.
Two Scott-barks later, the dog leaves but the owner then quickly comes running down from a parking area near the beach (where was he before?) yelling and screaming at us. We explain that his dog was coming too close, and we were trying to protect ourselves, and also our tiny dogs. We asked that he kindly put a leash on his dog or call his dog off. He then starts cursing at us and calling us racist.
He then makes several broad, racist-slurs about white people. He then tells us that we are not welcome at the beach and need to leave. I point to our condo and say “we live here, we have every right to be here. We’re not trying to fight with you or cause trouble, we would just like you to keep your dog with you. There is plenty of beach for everyone and for every dog to be safe.”
Still he makes more racial slurs and among other things tell us we shouldn’t be allowed to live on the island because we’re not from here. (By this point I’d caught where he worked since it was on his shirt and he makes a living selling food and drinks to tourists…hmm…)
Anyway, as I’m gathering our things to leave (sunset ruined!) he encroaches on Scott with a rock in his hand and basically forces us to leave threatening to hit one, or both of us, with a rock. He literally bullies and follows us all the way back to the security gate at our condo. I’m sure he only retreated because we have guards!
As angry as we were over this situation, we realized that we are not the problem here. We’re clearly not racist, we don’t need to prove that because we know that we’re not. BUT HE IS RACIST. And that is just really sad.
Still, I am thankful for this experience because it only makes me appreciate MORE what all the minorities in America have gone through.
For whatever reason (luck?) I have found myself living abroad during times of huge political uproars in America and it has given me a global perspective of America, “Americans”, global politics…war.
The first time I was abroad was during Bush’s second term. When I left the United States, like many others, I didn’t care for Bush, I was just waiting for his term to be over. I really didn’t think it effected me individually.
But it did. By my third day in Europe, I was ashamed. I was too embarassed to pull out my passport and avoided doing so like my life depended on it _ I didn’t want people to know where I was from. I stopped speaking in English. I tried to pass myself off as a Canadian, or Dutch or from Spain — ANYthing but American.
It wasn’t just the general distrust, distaste and disapproving attitude the Europeans seemed to have for Americans then, it was the stereotypes that latched on. A stereotype that I didn’t want attached to me.
“Do you own a gun?” No, I do not. I don’t have any friends that do either.
“Do you like Bush?” No. and I did not vote for him. Most people I know don’t like him either.
Now I’m abroad again when Bid Laden was killed (murdered?).
When I first heard about it, I wasn’t happy. I didn’t feel the urge to get up and cheer. To raise a glass and celebrate. As my friend Haley wrote on Facebook “All life has value. I’m not comfortable celebrating death, just accepting it. I’m hoping for peace and tolerance to come.”
But then when I heard about Americans cheering in the street, *I* was appalled… and embarrassed. Really, we are a country that celebrates death with dancing in the streets? I recall Americans had a very different opinion of that practice 10 years ago.
My initial response, which I put on Facebook was the following: “I fear revenge and retaliation — for the U.S. and world.”
When I say that I fear revenge and retaliation I don’t only mean more terrorist attacks. I’m talking global image as well. I’m also talking about how the world will react not just to the death of Bid Laden but of America’s reaction.
It is an interesting time to live abroad and watch how other nations view Americans… but let me tell you: it ain’t pretty.
While there is some sympathy (? right word), especially with nations who have dealt with their own terrorist attacks on a large scale (like the UK), there is much more distaste. Distate for how Americans are celebrating in the streets. Distaste that America spent 10 years, a trillion dollars and so many innocent lives to kill ONE man hiding in the mountains. Distate with the American “we kill people to show that killing people is wrong” moral turpitude (or lack thereof).
Less we forget: He was ONE MAN, Al Qaeda still exists. People have lost sight of the forest for the trees.
Overall America is now proving to look like the dumbest nation in the eyes of our worldly neighbors… but hey! the good news is: I’m not sure its possible for he global image of the US to get much worse.
and Obama just got himself reelected.
