The Illusion of Stability

There are certain ideas that we have bought into wholesale. As a society, we are handed standards that we are supposed to live up to or idealize, and we usually don’t question that. No matter how “woke” we are, there are things that are so ingrained that they may go unquestioned. Stability is one of those standards that I’ve started to examine recently.

I have been taught to believe–as I think most of us are–that stability is a marker of some level of success. We seek job stability, financial stability, romantic stability, etc. We’re all looking to be assured. Stability provides comfort; it’s something you can depend on in a world that is often unreliable.

However, what does that actually look like? Does the picture that’s forming in your mind actually mirror what you want out of life, or is that the only image you’ve been presented with for what that word means in your life?

I spent a lot of my life unstable. My parents have been divorced since I was three and I got accustomed to fitting into their respective lives. They’re different people in most ways. My mother: incredibly concerned with what people think of her, morning person, messy, believes nothing short of the bubonic plague should keep you from school/work. My father: couldn’t give a fuck less about what anyone thinks, night owl, annoyingly tidy, encourages you to stay home from school if he is sick so that you can keep him company. My life was spent vacillating between these two extremes and trying to find myself on the spectrum. Incessant movement was the constant in my life.

So, I’ve worked my little millenial way towards “real” stability: a full-time job with benefits that afford me a place to live and a few outings each month. There are immense blessings in that ability and I don’t scoff at them. I was just able to get new glasses this week through my insurer after I “hadn’t really been seeing my whole adult life,” according to the doctor who examined my eyes. I knew how much to expect on my check this last week, which allowed me to budget for rent and a few Christmas presents. There are definitely positive things to be said for this ideal.

But, as good as it is to have health insurance and know there will be enough money to cover your bills, it feels so stagnant for other parts of who I am. I feel beholden to my job solely because it means that I have something stable. Is this stability worthwhile if it leaves me so little time to establish routines that create balance in other areas of my life, like spiritual practice, writing, and exercise? I’ve been tossing this question around in my mind for months now, worried that my discomfort was actually laziness in disguise. I tried to convince myself that I was being a child and that I needed to just buck up stop trying to prioritize my happiness.

Then, my boss and my company “decided to part ways” and everything I understood about stability in my current job was wiped clean. That move signaled  a lot of potential dangers for my position. I was upset and concerned like most of my coworkers, however there was this underlying feeling of relief that I knew I needed to examine. I think the reality that this seemingly “stable” position could also be threatened so easily freed me to be open to alternate definitions of stability.

I don’t think that my stability should come at the expense of my happiness. This does not mean that I went in and handed my resignation letter without a plan. As much as I want to concentrate on my joy, I would like to do that without the threat of homelessness. I’m taking the time to think of a more holistic view of stability. I still have to earn a certain amount of money, which will require me to take on some things I might not always want to do, however I can choose to put limits on how much time I put into that endeavor. I can ensure that I’m leaving myself a certain amount of time for creative pursuits and incorporate daily meditation. I am reimagining/recasting my standards for stability.

In doing this, I’m taking on a certain level of risk. In order to get closest to what I want right now, I might have to give up health insurance. With the impending reign of Trump, that means my black ass can’t make not a one mistake. I will need to be healthier denamug. I might need to let go of my native New Yorker need to cross against the light, cause Lord knows I’ve been amongst the cast of babies and fools that He’s saved while crossing these streets. These are heavy decisions to be made that need to be carefully considered. I have to be sure about what I’m willing to sacrifice and what’s most important.
My point is that it is an individual decision. I have to determine what’s going to make me feel most like carrying on in this world and seizing the day. I blindly followed the path that was set for me despite the churning in my gut. I did it when I committed myself to a grad school program I knew I didn’t want and I have done it again in resigning myself to a space for the promise of something that doesn’t look like my happily ever after. Take the time to look at every facet of your life and take stock of why you’re doing everything that you do. You may find that you’ve taken on some things based on someone else’s ideal. When you get rid of the weight of their dreams to make room for what lights up your soul, imagine how close to your own ideal you can get.