When I was young, I was very comfortable in my skin. I was not concerned about how I was perceived. My attitude was: This is me. I hope you like me, if you don’t that’s not really a problem either. I went to a big high school. There were over 800 students in my class alone. The way I looked at it was, “If 700 of my classmates decide I’m not what they’re looking for, that leaves 100 friends!”
Everything has its’ challenges. While I graduated from high school still comfortable in my skin. I did have enough “losses” to put a chink in my armor. I had a crush on the same, unresponsive, girl all four years. I guess you could say I was slow on the uptake- maybe that’s why I was comfortable-ignorance? I like to call it persistence though.
Another thing I was persistent in was sports. I wrestled for my last three years with a moderate amount of success. I started on Jr. Varsity for one year and then Varsity for two. I ran cross country for a nationally recognized coach my freshman year. He asked me to come back, but CC wasn’t for me- It felt good to be wanted though and I remained on good terms with the coach. My dream sport was baseball, and I never did make the team even thought I tried out three times. Again, I’ll call it persistence where my high school friends just rolled their eyes when I told them I was trying out again in our junior year. I believe the word they replaced persistent with was “stupid.” I have to admit they had a better handle on my chances of making the team than I did.
Out of high school I had a strong group of friends and some success in life. I earned a bachelor’s degree and later a master’s. I met my first love and dated her for a couple of years. Our relationship was strong, at least I thought it was. She supported me when I told her I wanted to go back to school (8 hours away) and complete my college degree before we got married. She came out to visit me a couple of times and we had wonderful weekends together. Somehow, that decision to go away to school, that I was very comfortable with, turned into my first real heartbreak. Absence did not make her heart grow fonder and, on one of my visits home, she suggested it might be a good idea to date other people. We agreed to, as Ross and Rachel did on friends, “Take a break.” Before my next weekend home I learned that she was with someone new, and I was out.
Self confidence fading, maybe a little less “comfortable in my skin.”
I started rebuilding myself. I graduated with a degree in journalism with a specialty in Advertising/Public Relations. As I was applying at advertising agencies my brother, Pat, asked me if I would help him manage the mechanical repair shop/gas station he had just taken over. I had worked there when I was in high school and during summer breaks from college and agreed to help on a temporary basis.
I worked with him for a few years and then bought the business when he decided to “try his luck” and moved to Las Vegas with his family. In the interest of clarity; he tried his luck by opening a garage there- not gambling.
I enjoyed owning my own business, I put in long hours and took great pride in the growing customer base and steady income. I made more than enough money and had enough time left over to participate in sports and maintain my social life. A part of my social life was meeting my future wife, Eileen.
Everything in my life was going as I thought it should. I was successful, happy, satisfied, and comfortable in my own skin. I seldom worried about the decisions I made or needed to make. Don’t get me wrong. I did my “due diligence” when I decided to ask Eileen to marry me, and when I decided to buy the business from Pat, but I was confident my decisions were on the right course and did not partake in a lot of second guessing.
One thing that was not in line reference my “grown up” life was that I was starting to feel like I wasn’t an adult. I felt, a bit, like I was playing the role of a mature citizen- maybe I was a “probationary grown up?” I was starting to be less comfortable in my skin than I had been.
My business was on property I leased from a large oil company. After about two years that company chose to re-purpose the property and change it from a mechanical repair shop to a car wash. They notified me that my lease would not be renewed, and I would have to vacate the garage. I had been given a few months’ notice. I started sending out resumes.
The first offer I received was to manage a gas station about a forty five minute drive from the house Eileen, our daughter Jaime, and I were living in. The job didn’t pay well, and I was called out to answer burglar alarm calls late at night once or twice a month. I was required to return to open the station at 7 every morning, regardless of alarm activations the previous night. I worked there for about 5 months before I started sending out resumes.
Next was a short stint as regional manager for a window washing concern. This job was better, but still paid far less than I had earned with my garage.
After about six or eight months with the window washing company the local sheriff’s department said my name was now at the top of their hiring list- this was a job I had applied for when I learned I was losing my lease. It paid better and had much better benefits. Who could argue with that?
I enjoyed the job and the responsibilities that came with it, but that nagging feeling of being uncomfortable in my skin started to grow. I did well with this new challenge, but I questioned if I was mature enough to be booking people for murder or transporting inmates to court. I started to feel like I might be just acting out a childhood game of cops and robbers. The fact that in the six years I worked there I dealt with murderers and celebrities I had read about in the newspapers was a little intimidating to me.
Meanwhile, life goes on. The rest of my life included dealing with “newlywed troubles” then additional challenges of raising a large family, making enough money to support that large family, keeping peace with wife and kids, dealing with experiences that only correctional officers and, later, patrol offices become aware of.
Inside the jail I dealt with attempted suicides, drug overdoses, fights, suicide watches, thefts and many other things most people on the street don’t see, at least not close up. When I was hired for patrol the previous list grew to include, train pedestrian fatalities, accident fatalities, shotgun suicides, sexual assaults, burglaries in progress, shots fired, domestic incidents and more.
Some of the “adult” things I have done have made me proud, some have left me wondering how I might have done better, some have left me hoping to experience the same thing again but, it seems, a lot of my adult experiences leave me with questions. Am I doing this thing called life properly? Are people better off because they have dealt with me? Can I improve myself? Do I need to improve myself?
I picture an adult as someone like my father who seemed to be in control no matter what the circumstances were. Maybe I appear that way- I certainly don’t feel that way.
How do you fellow adults feel? Are you confident? Do you have doubts about “adulting?”
Please leave me a comment, let me know if I am alone, or in a much larger, anonymous, group!
Thanks, Phil