Do you ever look at your WhatsApp chat with one person and think, okay, my reputation and superficial friendships will be destroyed if this chat is leaked, doxxed, made public, whatever, but the style is undeniable. The cruel execution not messy, but a masterclass in butchery.
I was explaining a particularly unhelpful person to a friend. The closing lines from my diatribe summed up the collective weight of so many conversations I’ve had with friends over the past five years: if you can afford to pursue career openings in certain fields at our age, then I’m sorry, but you’re secure. Bitch, you might even be rich. No complaints allowed. Congratulations are withheld. To be all reverse points-system about it, my sympathy runneth low.
I’m fairly satisfied with my current trajectory. But it’s one of those ‘I made choices’ timelines. We talk about the confidence erosion in women. There are only so many times you can be 100% conditioned for the fight. Getting to Friday is a mindset that helps with survival. But what about the ambition erosion? The series of moments where you abandon the dreams and goals that you believe you could have achieved with more resources - time, money, extra time in the week. Or with less responsibilities. With a different body or brain. In a different economy.
I always think of one of the early episodes of Battlestar Galactica when President Roslin is speaking to Commander Adama about what the fleet of spaceships on the run from robot alien types - the Cylons - need to do next. He’s all about the fight. She tells him they’re going to run. They are the sliver of humanity that survived. They do not have the resources. “I don't know why I have to keep telling you this, but the war is over.”
There’s a sadness and a power in accepting defeat. Acknowledge the humiliation, then let go. Enter the fuck this, that, and them level. Eventually the scar fades and you have to go look for it under an artificial light when you want to show it to someone.
We grow up with various myths. Blister pus can make you a warrior genius. Women start wars. Hard work pays off. We watch lies spun before our eyes. Waking up early for a job in an office means you’re a better class of citizen. Not all landlords. Women in business luncheons. Anyone can afford to eat healthy. We whisper truths over wine with tired friends. I can’t afford my professional dream. I might have to do a sensible masters. This is asking too much of me. No more. It’s unfair. Sorry for the self-pity.
I like pointing out something is unfair. We should do it more often. I don’t think self-pity is the worst emotion in which to wallow - as long as you do something productive with it. Even if that something is a bitching session with a friend. Or a chaotic PR-STV ballot. The journey to clarity is rarely neat.
P.S. Roslin and Adama eventually shag. Great love story.