"You should try a different hat, Isabel. It might look good on you."

Something awkward happened to me yesterday. After the moment had resolved, I madly rushed to my notebook to jot down some thoughts that came to me during the emotional aftermath. This is my attempt at making sense of the sting and eking out some wisdom for the group. 

One year ago, I moved back to a city where I lived 10 years prior and currently still reside. In my mid-20s then, I was as many young people in their mid-20s are—confused, struggling, yet stubbornly full of hope and life. Almost a year ago now, I took a part-time job in a lovely shoe and clothing store as I figured out myself as a writer and freelancer. Slowly and quickly all at once, the plans that I had set in motion and which had brought me out to the west coast of Florida began to tumble back on themselves, or silently and abruptly came to an end. By Christmas, I was beginning to wonder what lie ahead, and by spring, it was absolutely clear that a sea change was imminent.

My job at the shoe store, however, had remained a constant, and even felt like a small sort of oasis amidst the tumult that plans going belly-up can inspire. When it appeared on the outside like I had nothing else going on, my job at the shop remained. And though I don’t have to prove anything, to anyone, I will occasionally encounter someone from the past, which will incite a cascade of difficult emotions.

This happened to me yesterday when a beautiful woman walked into the shop, whom I recognized immediately. I became aware of two very uncomfortable things at that moment:

Number one, that I was instantly ashamed of myself for not being “further along”, outwardly, on my path, and therefore had committed harsh judgment upon myself, and

number two, that I had, at any given time, negatively judged others whom I had perceived weren’t “living up to their potential” or were “wasting their lives.”

I thought I might slip by without having to juggle politeness with embarrassment, but she recognized me, too, and so a brief and cordial chat about how our paths once crossed came and went without much damage having been done.

But here is the crux of the issue, which unfurled itself to me as I watched her walk out the door. 

Society sets us up to gather meaning and definition from the structures and systems that give it power. 

More specifically, I (and possibly you, as well) are not defined by our jobs.

Let me define defined in this context: the sense of meaning or importance that all human beings are endowed with, innately, by God.

The good news about all of this, in my opinion, is that our God-given free will is the most defining tool we carry. Let me be defined by the way I treat others and myself; the words I choose to speak and the actions I take. And above all, let my relationship with the Almighty define me, and not the way my life looks from the outside.

And here’s the beautiful cherry on top:

Your people—even those people we’ll only know in life’s passing, fleeting moments—will never have cause to judge us. It won’t even cross their minds. Why, then, must we struggle so fiercely against our own selves?

You are the keeper of your own truth. Protect it, honor it, and set it on fire every morning that God has kept you alive. This is the best protection from myself that I have ever known.

And maybe start a blog. It’s working for me.

(This essay’s post-script movie reference is from Crossing Delancey, where the male lead gets angry at the female lead for belittling his existence as a mere “pickle man.” “You think I am defined by this?” he asks her, impassioned.

That pickle man was a lot more complicated than she gave him credit.)