I write to make sense of my thoughts. To arrange a scattered puzzle piece by piece into a coherent image.
My entire life I relied on structure and found safety in its stability and clearcut promises (if you do A, then B). I knew which strings to pull to succeed within this structure. Do well in school, respect your elders, graduate from college, get a financially secure job, raise a family, retire and die. The plan was sold to me like a promise. In exchange for my adherence to the structure, I would be rewarded with happiness, fulfillment, the feeling that I’d lived my life well.
Needless to say, I saw through the illusion pretty quickly. Doing well in school was natural to me as I couldn’t conceive of an alternative. I was not yet an independent person and was reliant upon my parents & other adults to inform me if what I was doing was right or wrong. When I said I wanted to go to college and get a degree in Business, everyone said, “great idea!” and so I did it, marching blindly ahead with my head held dangerously high.
Once I was released from the structure of formal schooling, I noticed a few things. My life was filled with time. And not coincidentally, this was the first moment in my life that I felt independent. There was no one telling me I need to be in VLSB on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays from 11:30 – 1. No one saying “Go home! It’s winter break” or “Get a summer internship! You’re about to start senior year.” Time as I knew it lost all its structure. There was no senior year to look forward to, no graduation to work toward. All I had in front of me was empty time and a suggestion that for the next 45 years, I spend it working.
Funnily enough, I also uncovered a newfound sense of curiosity upon my exit from formal education. I never characterized myself as a reader. When books or articles were assigned for a class, I referenced Sparknotes chapter by chapter and begrudgingly flipped through the text for referenceable quotes. I would sit to write a paper after delaying it for weeks, forcing myself to sit still and resist distraction for as long as possible (usually only maintaining my focus for 30-minute intervals before succumbing to the temptations of my phone). I dreaded podcasts and could only fill my ears with mindless, feel-good music. Now, none of these things hold. I drink books like they are water and find comfort & creativity in writing. I need to stop myself from listening to podcasts so that I digest their contents in contemplative silence.
These two developments – (1) the ownership of and responsibility for time in my life and (2) an insatiable curiosity – have led me to the state of confusion I find myself in now. I realize that this life is much greyer than it is black and white. The structure that once provided safety and security now feels like a prison or a trap. To live my life in total rejection of this structure is still to be trapped, confined to the structure by living fiercely in opposition to it. The only thing I feel I can do is dissect the structure – its imperialist, capitalist, racist, heteronormative, patriarchal components – and map all the ways it has impacted my identity, hopes, and dreams.
This is the journey I’m on. How has being a cis-gender, white, middle-class woman born in Los Angeles, California impacted my perception of the world? How does the current system (i.e., private ownership, scarcity, individualism, competition) contribute to the fears and desires that motivate my decisions? What would I decide and who would I be if I took away the current structure and its implications?
I believe that to remove oneself from the systems of oppression, conformity, and limitation that we find ourselves born into at any given time is to discover our true nature, that which is not dependent on the time, place, or circumstance into which we are born. We are each other and all living things; tiny fractals which contain the entire image. I wish to live from here.
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