The past year or so has been like I had lost my footing while standing on a slippery moss-covered rock in the middle of a fast-moving river and had fallen into that river. Swept along, I had no choice but to go with the flow without any idea of how long I would be subject to the whims of the current or if I would ever find sure footing again. Occasionally a branch or something would appear and I would reach out, but I would continue my journey as the branch slipped out of reach. Some, I managed to touch or even hold briefly before it slipped out of my fingers. Finally, one day, I saw a branch. I reached out to grab it and was able to get a good grasp. It was sturdy and could take my weight against the rapids trying to pull me along. Using this branch, I pulled myself up onto dry land and things began to stabilize. My strength began to return as I was no longer focused solely on mere survival.
Now I begin to explore this new shoreline and venture inland a bit. I am getting to know the inhabitants of this place. Now I must figure out who I am in this environ—my place and what I have to offer. I see people who have accomplished so much at such a young age and yet I have a tendency to overthink things and second-guess myself. I am trying to discover what I am interested in. Well, I have ideas, but am still intimidated with the idea that the things I am interested in are “outside my social class.” Many of my interests and tastes seem more in line with upper-middle class pursuits (attending theater, symphony, art galleries, and lectures by renowned scholars in their fields of study) while my upper-working –to-lower-middle-class upbringing and salary tells me that I am being too hoity-toity. That even if I tried to fit in, I would be quickly outed as a fraud: that I don’t belong. To some, I am the poor cousin who comes to town; to others I am like the once-wealthy cousin who lost everything and was forced down a notch or two.
