Life Compartmentalized
I had a meeting last week to interview a chef of a cafe in Raleigh. My new gig let’s me do stuff like that and call it work. I really can’t believe this is my life these days.
Anyway, my mom and aunt made a date out of the outing. So they sat and gabbed while I did my thing. Win/Win.
Now, I’m the baby of my family. The youngest of five extremely opinionated, successful individuals. I’ve mentioned a time or two that it’s been tough (at least inside my head) to break free from the baby-box. Mentors warned me as I was growing up that no matter how old or how successful I might be, I’d always be the baby, and that I’d need to get used to that.
That’s a hard pill to swallow.
I’ve struggled with it over the years, this identity that I didn’t choose and I couldn’t escape. It’s probably much bigger in my head than in reality, a hard distinction to make on your own.
When my dad passed away, something shifted, changed. Suddenly, within the perimeters of this family unit we all had our distinct roles and purposes. Valued. My perspective started to change. My confidence started to slowly ignite. This one defining moment shifting us from child to adult.
So last week, while I did my thing, my aunt and mom chatted, seemingly ignoring me. When we got home, my mom shared that my aunt confessed that she’d never seen me in business mode before, that I seemed so “professional.” It made me laugh, but it also helped me realize something.
Our lives are generally compartmentalized. I rarely see my husband doing his thing at work and vice versa. My family rarely sees me outside of baby-sister-mode. I didn’t hang out in my mom’s cubicle growing up, watching her work. We have all these different versions of ourselves, and the only one who truly knows each and every side is us.
I held onto that uncertainty, the boxed in mentality for so long that it never occurred to me that maybe we don’t have to let go of each of our identities. Maybe one has nothing to do with the other. I can be the baby sister and the business owner. The writer and the wife. The believer and the friend.
