Success

I had my first, serious I-feel-really-old moment last week. I could not believe how young my new optometrist was. I was stunned, speechless, trying to do the math in my head to figure out how young he really could be to get through all that schooling and have his own beautiful new practice. Twenty-eight, I figured. He looked so young, way younger than 3 years younger than me. Then I realized it's always old, middle-aged people who complain about how young doctors are and refuse to let a "kid" operate or examine them. Then I felt old, very old. All his equipment was state of the art, and when I started to flinch focusing on the end of that blue highway in the glaucoma test, he smiled sweetly and told me "oh, we don't do that anymore." We don't do that anymore, you feeble old bat.

Later, while deliberating whether I preferred lens "one ... or two," we stumbled on the topic of my career. He said, "How'd you end up in that position? Did you just kind of fall into it?" Coming from someone else who may have fallen into a career, I would have taken this lightly. But coming from him? Who achieved all of this through an aggressive scholarly assault funded no doubt my the same old family money that financed these wonderful digs (we are in Virginia, mind you)? Well, I took offense. I didn't get the feeling he meant "fall into it" like that woman falls into that cushy white chair in the Ethan Allen commercial and then, as a result, her whole house is decorated and beautiful (I want to fall into that chair, by the way). I got the feeling he was implying that I tripped on a bananna peel and went careening into this position with my hands flung out to protect myself from a fall. I grabbed this position like a final branch before falling off a cliff. With my cheeks likely reddening, I muttered something like "Guess so." And so began some serious self interrogation.

I left the office feeling schlumpy and old and unsuccessful. I hadn't had a shower this morning or straightened my hair in days and I had selected shorts despite a nasty bruise/road rash eye sore on my leg, the result of a biking accident the previous day (to protect my ego, let's just pretend it occurred while I was going really fast and not barely moving). My top could have used a press and my toes are in sore shape. I had fallen into this look for sure, fallen right out of bed and into it. But my career? Had I indeed fallen into it as well? And was it as embarrassingly careless as this ensemble?

Nobody ever says they want to be a technical writer when they grow up. Someone said that to me once. It's true. And for the record, I don't really love my job. I'm not even sure it's a career and not just a job, and, not to sound haughty, but I'm the kind of person who really should have a career and not just a job. You don't send kids to daycare for a job. You have someone else mind your kids so that your career can flourish. In full disclosure, my husband definitely has a career. At the expense of mine? No, in complete honesty, it wasn't like that. It still isn't.

I guess the next 5 years will determine what this thing I do everyday and sometimes every night really is. Just as the last 5 years have shaped it. A very large, but very shy, part of me knows that I've never been able to make the personal sacrifices necessary to rise to the top. I don't think this will change going forward. When, just the other day, my manager asked me where I see myself in 5 years, all I could picture was myself standing at the back of some children's recital. I was wearing business attire, if that helps.

All this leads me to the question of how I define success. I never had the guts to leave everything I love and move to the city to pursue the career I had dreamed of and, because I am a total realist, I will acknowledge that ship has sailed. A long time ago. I can't say what kind of chops I'll display in the coming years, which will certainly define whether I eventually reach an executive-level position. I do know I have given everything in my person to help my marriage and now my family prosper and grow. What I always wanted for my family, I have very nearly achieved. This came at the expense of my career for sure, but upon reflection, I feel completely content with this. Without realizing it, I have completely redefined my notion of success. Because when I look at those two boys and at the life we have made in the face of some fairly substantial challenges, I am very proud. And I've always been proud of myself for succeeding.