Navigate

Today's word on my list of journal prompts is "navigate". I decided to go with it because it made me think of myself and what I'm trying to do in this world.

There are thirteen definitions for the word navigate. It's a verb that can be used with or without an object. Some definitions mention specific modes of transportation: cars, boats, planes. Two have something to do with a computer.

Two definitions stood out to me:
1. to walk or find one's way
2. to move or progress through in a logical sequence

I started to navigate my adult life at age eighteen with definition number two. I graduated from high school and went to college to get a degree in education. I had always wanted to be a teacher and was doing everything required to reach that goal. I met a man, feel in love, and got engaged all before I finished college. I graduated in May 1999 and was married a month later. By August, I had my first teaching job with PK students which was exactly what I wanted.  Within the first three years of our marriage, we bought a house and became pregnant with our first child.

This was the logical sequence of things. In hindsight, the easy way to navigate through life. More children could have followed. Maybe a dog. We'd be at a point where we would be planning how we would grow old together.

Instead, at the age of twenty-eight, I said, "screw logic" and asked for a divorce. Several factors led to this decision. Mostly I wasn't happy with where I was. I thought there was more out there for me. Something else I should be doing with someone else. I believe it was the right decision, but I stopped moving through life in a logical sequence and have been trying to find my way since. My new way of navigating is messy and clumsy. My definition says, "To stumble through life to find one's way."

I've stumbled, called, been bruised and broken trying to fine my way. I'm now forty years old, and I am not where I'd thought I would be in life. I'm still trying to find my way. Most times without a compass or a map. I don't seem to have a plan; I just know I need to move forward.

I often feel abnormal for someone my age. My concept of a forty-year-old grown up is someone who is established and knows what they want to do. In fact, they do not only know what they want to do, they are doing it. They are settled. They are happy. They are stable. They can answer the question, "Where do you see yourself in five years?"  I am none of these things, and I have no clue how to answer that question. Don't even ask me. Just don't.

I think my navigation skills have improved over the past twelve years. I make less errors. I still stumble, fall, and have to dust myself off, but my choices have improved. At least I'm learning from history.

I felt unhappy in my marriage. It's one of the reasons I wanted out. Since my separation, I have been looking for happiness. Just when I think I've got it, it slips from my grasp. Actually, it evaporates into thin air like it was never there. I wonder what happiness is and how you attain it. I've read that you need to make your own happiness. That it is inside you. I wonder if, when I was formed, the happiness forgot to form, because I have been able to pull it from within.

I've tried to find happiness in relationships. I thought Chuck was the one because we first met in fourth grade and there just had to be a reason he came back into my life when he did. I thought Michael was the one, but only if I could change him first. I thought Brett was the one. THREE times. After three devastating break-ups and an abortion, I felt totally broken. I finally took a break from dating because there was no happiness in relationships.

I tried to find happiness in a bottle. A bottle of wine. A bottle of Rum. Pretty much any bottle would do. I was happy when I was out partying. My hangovers were well worth it because the night before was full of laughs and good times. But, eventually the bottles were empty. The fun ran out and the headaches were too powerful. I remember a span of several months in 2011 where I spent so much time either drunk or hungover that I barely remember what was happening around me at that time. It was a dark time. It definitely wasn't happy.

When I gave up on love and romance, I tried to find happiness with random hook-ups with strangers. Who needs love when I could have a fun night of sex and just move on?  This was an empty time. I was definitely not happy when I looked in the mirror.

I tried less self-destructive ways to find happiness. I tried new things and went outside my comfort zone. I went to scrapbook classes and interacted with people I didn't know. I dedicated and rededicated myself to my writing over and over again. In 2004, I started writing the story that would later give birth to my collection. I joined writing groups and traveled to different writing classes/workshops.  In 2007, I attended "A Week at Sarah Lawrence" where I got to work with a published author and workshop my story with nine of my peers. I felt at home with these other writers and fell in love with the creative process.

I was happy when I was doing these things that I liked to do.  Scrapbooking helped me relax. I had fun with the creative outlet. Writing was good for me too, but I had trouble finishing stories. I would only write when I felt the muse instead of doing it regularly. It would be (and sometimes still is today) a place of frustration for me. The problem with hobbies is that they don't take priority in life. Work, bills, groceries, taking care of a small child all have to come first. So, I was happy when I did these things, but extremely unhappy when I couldn't.

As I continued to clumsily navigate through life and try to figure things out, I became really unhappy with my job. I lost confidence in my ability to teach. I was frustrated with lack of student responsibility for behaviors and academics. I was tried of parents, who didn't have a degree in education, telling me what was best to do in the classroom. I was frustrated with administration and their unrealistic expectations. So, at the end of the school year in 2010, I left. I thought it would be easier to find a job doing something outside the classroom because I'm smart and have many skills. I was wrong.

For five years, I dragged myself from low-paying job to low-paying job trying to find where I belonged. I worked a part-time retail job for four years. I sold bras and panties. I was good at it. I had never worked retail before, but I was good at this. I formed relationships with customers, I believed in the product, and I had a strong work ethic that was admired by my supervisors.

I worked at a start-up company. It was an online market place for parents to book summer camps. My job was to call camp directors and build relationships with them. I wanted them to join the marketplace. We made money from the camps that joined. I was good at this. I felt successful. I decided to leave to go back to teaching (one year at a small, International private school) because it was close to what I thought I was going to go to school to do (more on that in a moment).

I worked at a nonprofit where I provided social services to residents at a low-income housing community. I LOVED this job. I was actually happy with what I was doing. I loved going to work. I felt like i was making a difference. I was still navigating (in full stumbling manner) through my personal life, but I felt like I had found my calling. The bad part was it was a small non-profit with no money. So, I barely made enough for us to live. I couldn't take care of us. I was happy with my job, but at an all time low in my self-esteem. I couldn't provide for my family.   So, I dragged myself back to teaching (for more money--irony there). I'm unhappy when I go to work, but at least we can eat.

I mentioned going back to school. As I was trying a career change and find my place in life, I tried to go back to school several times. I thought I wanted an MFA. This is how I would focus on my writing. Also, a MFA is a terminal degree and I could teach college English. I struggled in online college programs. I lacked motivation, time, and confidence. Some would say I must not have wanted it enough, but I think that on my road to happiness, I tried so many wrong things, that I destroyed my spirit. I don't believe in myself the way I used to. So, there was no happiness in getting another degree because I wasn't able to complete one.

So, now I'm meandering through life. I like that word because it implies a slowness. I'm still navigating (finding my way), but it's less messy.  I have heart disease (diagnosed at age thirty-five). Maybe that is what slowed me down.  I still don't know what I want to do with my life, as far as a career. I'm dating someone, but scared about where it will go and where I want it to go. What I wonder most at this moment is there a way to figure things out and progress on a logical path again? Or am I stuck trying to navigate (stumbling or meandering) to find my way the rest of my life?