Saturday, January 30, 2010

The Missing Piece of Fulfillment


I remember when I was turning 30, that the consolation prize was "feeling secure in your skin." Countless people encouraged me to embrace this new decade, because unlike my 20s, I would feel secure with who and where I was in my life.

Not surprisingly, 30 doesn't feel any less confusing than 29 did ... or 21 did ... or 15 did. Yes, I feel like I have a better handle on my career - for the first time in quite awhile, I am energized by what I am doing and see where it can go. At 21, I had twenty different careers I wanted to pursue. At 15, I thought I could become a fashion designer - with zero eye for fashion and even fewer art skills, if that is possible.

But you realize that your career isn't everything. When I tell people that I work for a non-profit organization, their first reaction is often to ask, "Why?" And with all honesty, I can say that on my worst day of work, the families that I help can so easily remind me why I do what I do. On one side of the coin, working for people who face bigger challenges than you do reminds you how good you really have it. On the other hand, knowing that what you do directly benefits people makes it more than a paycheck. You know that answering that one last e-mail, late at night on your BlackBerry, could have helped a mother who thought she had no options to find help for her child.

Yet even knowing that you help people isn't infinitely fulfilling. When I lived in Charleston, I volunteered at the MUSC Children's Hospital. My responsibilities were simple - I played with the inpatients to give their parents a break inbetween visits and to keep their minds off of what was really happening. You can never underestimate the strength of terminally ill children and their families - it is the only place where what seems to be the worst thing imaginable, never is in their eyes. For every child I had the chance to meet, I wanted to fix his life.

And so we pray. I was raised like most kids of my generation in my neighborhood - a Christmas and Easter Catholic who attended religious education long enough to complete my sacraments. I grew up with Catholic and Jewish kids until I left New York for Georgia. My freshman year left me feeling out of place, surrounded by people who were not only of other faiths, but had been truly raised in the church. I was ripe for the pickings by the cults - you know, the ones who prey upon lonely out-of-state freshmen in the dorms. I remember going to see Phish perform in Atlanta and going home for dinner with a girl who lived on my hall. Her mother asked me what religion I was and replied, "You do know Catholicism is a made up religion, don't you?" And while I obviously knew that it wasn't, I hadn't the slightest clue how to reply.

My senior year, I volunteered at the Catholic Center to teach religious education classes. I was paired up with a girl who became one of my closest friends and together, we taught a small group of fourth graders. I was obviously learning with them. I remember a few key moments - accidentally telling the kids in one breath that I was 20 and then telling them that my Christmas tradition was "going out drinking on Christmas Eve." Another time, we were supposed to discuss a chapter on stewardship ... and it was about recycling. I had no idea how to reconcile the two. So I read it in my best "Jesus voice" and we moved on. I also may have been struck by lightning on the way home.

Either way, I was trying hard to find a place for religion in my life. I started attending church on Sundays at the Catholic Center and for the first time in my life, didn't have to look at the cheat sheet when I recited the Apostle's Creed. I lapsed when I returned to N.Y. (mostly because I really didn't like the particular church I grew up in) but kept the idea of faith in my mind. When I moved to Charleston, I found a Catholic church that I fell in love with. I thoroughly enjoyed my Sunday 5 p.m. masses and listened intently to the priest, whose messages were relevant and thought-provoking.

Again, being in the South I had more friends that considered religion an important, if not the most important part of their lives. I actively wanted to feel what they did - but wasn't sure what the missing piece was. And, unlike other faiths, the one thing I embraced most about Catholicism was forgiveness - I didn't want to practice a faith that involved being saved.

One of my good friends was extremely active in her church - her entire life pretty much revolved around it. I was curious - she seemed happy with a very structured life (due to her denomination) and I envied how "sure" she seemed about all of it. A few years later, she had a crisis of faith and began to question what it all stood for. I watched as she had to dissect her beliefs into minutae - to find out what she really believed in, as opposed to what she was simply told to believe in. She returned to her faith and found that at a particularly challenging time in her life, there is no way she could have lived without it.

I don't think I would be happy embracing a "very Christian life" - as I said, the concept of being saved is not what I believe in. I think at times, my life would feel more fulfilled if I actively included religion in it. Yet I never want it to feel forced. I want it to be something that I discover and impart in my own life.

So what gives you the answers? What makes your life make sense; what makes you feel both comfortable and content being YOU in your own skin? What makes you feel like you are making your mark on the world and really living your life - not just waking up and seeing the hours go by? How do you decide that most of the stuff you dwell on really doesn't matter and devote yourself to figuring out the things that do?

I want to be a better person.
I want to be happy in my career.
I want to find love and give love in return.
I want to have faith.
I want to be steadfast in what I stand for and believe in.
I want to be an example for other people.

How do I find the missing piece to feeling secure, complete and most of all, fulfilled?

"This is your life, are you who you want to be
This is your life, is it everything you dreamed it would be
When the world was younger and you had everything to lose"
- "This is Your Life"

Switchfoot

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Face Value

Surprisingly, I didn't have a clue who Casey Johnson was when I found out that she died. I say surprisingly because I tend to read a lot of random things about celebrities - or should I say "celebrities." Between what I see on the internet and read over people's shoulders on the subway each morning, I am usually pretty up-to-date with the celebrity universe. But when I saw Casey Johnson on the cover of the NY Post after she passed away, I didn't have a clue.

While anyone's passing is a tragic story, all you could think while reading it was "trainwreck." Plain and simple - her celebrity was fabricated and her life was surely completely disastrous and empty. It reminded me of when I watched Britney Spears' documentary on MTV. I tuned in expecting to be entertained, but was left feeling sorry for her. Sorry that she felt she had to spend her life being someone she wasn't. Sorry that for someone who could have (and should have) had everything, she was left with almost nothing, in the grand scheme of things. Shortly after, I read this article in New York magazine.

Although the whole article is worth a read, this is the part that stood out the most to me - "As I knew her, Casey systematically seemed to enhance her already plentiful natural assets until she became almost an anime creature with exaggerated cheeks, lips, and breasts. As if she thought she would never be pretty enough. Or good enough. So she decided to become famous, like her idol, Marilyn Monroe. Because, after all, if you’re famous, everybody loves you, right? They all respect you and want to be you …"

Although this was really about the Britneys and Caseys of the world, it resonated with me for a different reason. It was the concept of thinking that there is always a fix. Always another version of you that is going to be better, another version of you that is going to make you happier within the universe.

There can always be a smarter you, so you can impress the people you strive to match intellectually.

There can always be a prettier you, one that doesn't have the flaws that only you notice.

And once you figure out what you think this version is, will you ever be pretty enough? Smart enough? Or simply put - enough.

Will you end up being one of the Britneys or Caseys - the person who believes that if you pretend to be someone else long enough, that you actually can become that person? Or can you learn to be happy with who you are at face value?

"Wanting to be someone else is a waste of the person you are." - Kurt Cobain