Giving up

I follow a blog called Advanced Riskology http://advancedriskology.com/the-quest-for-1-debriefing-august-2011/, and its author Tyler issued this challenge:

“This month, I want to hear your stories—good or bad—about “giving up.” Have you ever made the tough decision to stop doing something that wasn’t a good fit? Are you in the process of making a big change? What were the consequences? What are you doing now instead? Let us know about it!”

Well, at first my response was, I haven’t given up anything, my life has too many things I haven’t given up! (OK, can you say, tunnel vision?!) Then I started thinking: I gave up grad school for NYC and piano, I gave up piano for opera, I gave up opera for sanity, I gave up sanity for marriage (ha ha), I gave up marriage for sanity, and now I’m working my way toward giving up samo samo for fulfillment. So I guess I’m not quite as retentive as I thought.

One thing I know, however, is that none of these changes came lightly. They engaged me with my totally uncomfortable zone. The primo one that came to mind was when I gave up opera. When I started studying and singing, I was totally enthralled. I saw myself on the stage of the Metropolitan Opera, jetting around the world, captivating audiences. And I know I have the vocal talent for it (hey, I’m not kDIVAsilver for nothing). But what I didn’t have after awhile was the heart. As a teacher once said to me, “If you don’t feel like you’ve cut off your right arm if you can’t sing, then don’t keep singing; it’s a lousy business.”

And I got to that point. It was an excruciating place to be, partly because so much of my identity was tied up with being “an opera singer.” It defined me, it made me special. I was scared to find out what would happen when I wasn’t a singer. I went pretty much straight from that point into marriage and children, where I redefined myself as mother (and wife)–a great redefinition, to be sure, but one that still skirted around that definition of me outside of others’ expectations.

My marriage got to the point where it simply wasn’t healthy to be in it anymore, but accepting that point took a LOOOONG and agonizing amount of time. Leaving my husband was not a decision I made lightly; being the child of divorce, I knew far too well the repercussions it would have on my children. But I also knew even more the repercussions of them seeing a chronically unhealthy marriage continue to play out before them. And I wanted them to get a chance to see their mother (that’s me) in a different light–as a person who is happy to be here, happy to be alive, happy to be able to explore so many different avenues that interest her.

So now, here I am, crafting myself at the ripe age of [mumbledy, as my sister says]. OK, I’m 58. Big deal, because you know what? I’m not dead, I’m enjoying exploring my options, I feel like there are a lot of options to explore (though I could stand a grant or two to help with the funding!), and I want to be here. I’m finding that as I open up to life, it’s opening up to me. It’s not always easy, and it’s not always fun, but it sure is interesting. And all those things I gave up helped to lead me here. There will be more I give up, I’m sure–right now I’m leaning toward the alternative health field, but I could just as easily end up in occupational therapy or environmental science. Who knows! And that’s the glory of it–I don’t know, but I give thanks every day that I have the chance to find out.