Who Am I? Reflecting on Fatherhood, Job Loss, and Identity
When I wrote about my struggle with my weight, the thing that surprised me most was when I called myself a rugby player. I’ve never done that before, despite playing the game for 10 years. I’ve also never explicitly thought about my identity, always a vague sense of self. Reflecting on it, I realized changes to my identity evoked strong emotional reactions, often unconscious to me. Introspecting and reframing my sense of self gave me the perspective to navigate identity shifts and process emotions rather than letting them dictate my responses.
Dissecting my identity, a piece that surfaces is my nationality. The bond between a person and their country is powerful, a prerequisite for a nation’s survival. To me, nationalism is a collective pact for survival, binding people through a shared identity. While I understand the concept theoretically, I can’t relate to it emotionally. Having lived a decade of my life in three different nations, I definitely lack a sense of patriotism that others around me share. I’d always identified more with my last place of residence than with any single nation. When my family migrated to Canada, I’d say I’m Eastern European. When I migrated to the US, I’d say I’m Canadian. In this regard I identify myself as more of an immigrant than a citizen of any nation, despite being a citizen, soon a dual citizen.
A time I had to confront an identity shift was having my first born. Prior to my son being born, my identity revolved around intense, all-consuming hobbies. Subconsciously, it felt like its what gave my life purpose and joy. From three months to multi year long obsessions where I would put on horse blinders to the rest of the world and deeply immerse myself into something. The initial quick progression of mastery akin to a drug, I’d just want more. But then, without warning, I’d wake up without the desire to push further. I’d tell myself that I reached 80% mastery, but the truth was often deeper, friends moved on, challenge became predictable, and the thrill of discovery faded. When in the middle of it, you feel like you’re firing on all cylinders, it’s invigorating. All that, came to a grinding halt when I had my first born. I wanted fatherhood to be my next obsession, another skill to master, but if followed a different arc. I didn’t understand it so resentment crept in. Fatherhood demanded the opposite of my other pursuits; slowing down, being present, practicing patience, and most challenge of all, finding contentment in simply being. It was unnerving, I felt restless and cooped up. The time and presence commitment striped the sense of agency I once had, gone overnight. I can no longer barrel down a mountain side on my bike. I can’t afford the risk or do things I once thought defined me. As the kids grew, so did my sense of agency. My old self resurfaced, and the struggled eased. While I mourned the loss of my old self, what I realized is that I didn’t actually lose anything, my sense of self simply evolved.
Another pivotal moment of self-confrontation came when I'm laid off my job. I failed and shame hit me hard. Until that moment, I had believed life has mostly gone my way. But that belief was just a biased narrative, my subconscious filtering out the bad and focusing on my luck. The layoff puts an abrupt end to a big source of energy for me. It started with the irrational thought: "They don't lay off good people". It felt so ingrained, so rational, that I had to face an unsettling conclusion, I wasn’t good. The shame and anxiety that comes with it is brutal and got in the way of everyday life.
Out with my closest friends, I spot my old boss. My heart pounds and my feet freeze. I can no longer hear the conversation around me, mind somewhere else. An image of him turning around, pointing the finger at me laughing, to then the entire room doing the same, including my friends. I try hard to become present, and take a deep breath. What did my friends just say? I fake a smile, heart still racing. My fight response kicks in, but I’m my own enemy. My mind berates me: “Go and say Hi. Conquer your fear.” Then the person turns around and I see that it’s somebody else. Discussing the incident with my therapist, he helps uncover that irrational thought, and as we discuss it, I can intellectually acknowledge its flaws, but emotionally I still struggle to accept it. With distance, I'm able to better analyze the thought. The word “good” carries too much weight. Framing it as good vs evil is absurd. Layoffs weren’t moral judgements, they were business decisions. Then there is the sense of self worth and being indispensable. In that context, I've had many life experiences where who is indispensable changes based on various circumstances, and almost always it's due to the macro and not the individual. I've seen enough indispensable people leave or be fired and everything was fine. Dispelling the thought by rationalizing it and shifting my self worth to being a father, husband, son and friend restores my balance. Still, without a job a part of me feels missing, like watching a core island of my identity collapses in Inside Out.
I've evolved my sense of self from something vague into distinct roles; builder, father, son, husband, and friend. So when I wrote about my weight, I realized that my identity is more nuanced than that. I was a rugby player. That was 10 years of my life. I do have a rugby island somewhere in my core. It's shaped me in many ways. By acknowledging rugby as part of my past and that it’s no longer part of my future, it helps me grieve the change while embracing it as part of who I am. Same with being eastern european or being canadian. Even cycling, despite only doing it for two years, is still a part of me, small, but still there. This helps me unlock a new level of understanding and gives me the framing I needed to see who I am, who I can be and more importantly visualize and accept the changes. Of course I'm still young enough to do most of those things, but that isn't always going to be the case. This framing frees me to explore new pursuits, without the burden of keeping all those ‘islands’ powered on. Old curiosities roar back, like starting a business. Doing it my way. The ultimate challenge. Another surprising curiosity is building a community. Be it bringing my friends together, coaching or building a third place for the community. I know my ambitions outweigh my energy so there will be tough decisions ahead, and this deeper understanding of self helps me embrace change, not resist, not react, but accept. It feels richer and that puts me to peace, for now.