Surrender
The gift of letting go
Persistence is a value I hold in high regard for myself and admire in other people. When I start something, I’m compelled to work hard at it, to “succeed”, prove to myself and others that it’s a worthy undertaking. School settings made it easy. I joined the soccer team without knowing how to play. It wasn’t something I picked up quickly, either. I practiced hard, played harder, and tried my best to support my team, to leave it better than how I found it. There were more times than I can count when I wanted to quit. I wasn’t the best player, I wasn’t treated well by my teammates, and the team morale was beaten down by seasons full of embarrassing defeats. There were plenty of other after school activities I could have tried instead, but this was the one I chose first, so I stayed on the team until I graduated. It was a bittersweet ending to an athletic career I never wanted. I was relieved to move on from the toxically masculine environment, but I was oddly disappointed that I never felt like I belonged there. The end was out of my hands, though, life continues whether we’re prepared or not. I live in the working world now, a loss of innocence replaced by corporate dread and complacency, an era that seems endless. The days blend together, not broken out by semesters or summer vacations. There’s no definitive end to working until retirement or death, and I’m not ready for either.
I don’t really like what I do for work. I’ll spare the details of exactly what my occupation is because it doesn’t really matter. Essentially I sit down, stare at a screen, and press keys for eight hours a day. Occasionally I talk to someone about something rather frivolous, and go about my typing. There are days I enjoy, but mostly I don’t. I could quit, but I’m having a difficult time coming to terms with the idea of leaving a job I’ve put so much time and effort into. I performed the whole corporate playbook, networking and building relationships with upper management, developing new skills to help my team, taking on new projects, but it never seemed to be enough, for me in the sense of finding fulfillment, or for my peers to respect me enough to be fairly compensated. I wanted to prove that I belonged, that I could take on any challenge thrown at me, that I deserved to be there, only to realize the destination was not somewhere I wanted to be. And if this is not the right place, how will I find the right one? How do I leave when I don’t know where I’m going?
I’ve been secretly hoping to be laid off, fired for trivial mistakes, perhaps bankruptcy or a PR disaster. Something to force me out, give me an end out of my control, a reason to leave without surrender. The longer I wait, the more out of place I feel, like I’ve just become self-aware and the rest of my coworkers remain under the trance of the low hum of fluorescent lighting and keyboard strokes. I pretend like nothing’s wrong, I make jokes, talk about weekend plans, work hard and often later than necessary, putting on a performance for the sake of pride and stubbornness. To leave feels like giving up, like I wasn’t smart enough or couldn’t handle the pressure. Only I place this judgment on myself, I know that. The feeling is just difficult to shake.
All the times I wanted to quit playing sports, withdraw from a class I wasn’t enjoying, end a friendship that felt forced, I never did. I wanted to feel –I want to feel like I can do anything, like I can overcome anything. When I was younger it felt like each day was a battle just to exist, like weeds creeping through the cracks in the concrete, I continued to grow, the roots were deep. Life always seems to find a way. If that crack is sealed I simply find another. If there are no cracks I would grow until I make my own. Persistence has kept me alive, motivated me to want more, achieve higher. But wouldn’t it be nice to grow somewhere freely? Away from having my leaves torn and my roots pulled out, where I’m not fighting for slivers of space to grow, hiding out of fear of being stepped on.
Perhaps the surrender, even the death of corporate Kenzi, is a necessary one. Maybe his remains will scatter, dancing in the wind, flying amongst the birds, floating down the river, at the mercy of nature, fate, destiny, God? And maybe when he finally lands, he finds himself a home more beautiful than one he could ever imagine. One where life thrives, not just survives.
I suppose to surrender is not saying I can’t, I’m not good enough, not strong enough, but having the courage to let go, giving permission to exist as life intended, moving past obstacles instead of forcing through them. The gift only we can give ourselves.
At fifteen life had taught me undeniably that surrender, in its place, was as honorable as resistance, especially if one had no choice.
-Maya Angelou
