Something's Off
Am I in a season of transition or do I just hate my job?
Academic Panic
As this academic year kicked off a few weeks ago, I couldn't shake this newfound sense of discontent. Despite being surrounded by the trappings of academic life that once fueled me, something was off. The comfort of academia felt like a mismatched costume, one I was obligated to wear but didn't fit quite right. And with this disquiet came a lack of sleep, a nearly invisible but ever-present undercurrent of panic that seemed to cling to me.
I've been pondering why I'm not sleeping well and why I feel this slow-burning panic. I've had to confront a rather unsettling question: Do I still love my job? This is a sanctuary I’ve helped build—a theater of minds and dialogues. But of late, it seems like the script has changed.
I've wrestled with anxiety before, metabolized it through creativity, gathering, and embodiment work. There was a time when my theater company was the antidote — where I transmuted my anxieties into a new script, a revived production. I acted out my angst, framed it in spotlights, and found relief.
So why is this time different? Is it because this existential question strikes at the root of my identity—educator, artist, mentor? The roles I play are not just hats I wear; they're integral to my sense of self. And when one role is called into question, it feels like they all are. Suddenly, the embodiment work, the gatherings, the communal catharsis that used to fortify me are not enough to shield against this creeping unease.
As I've taken time to meditate on my current state, I've started to entertain another possibility: What if this unease is not a failure or flaw in my job, or my satisfaction with it, but rather the natural manifestation of being in a state of transition? Transitions abound in my life right now, each with its unique challenges and energies. The shift from the leisure of summer, the wanderlust of travel, and the autonomy that it brings to the more stringent rhythm of the academic year is enough to cause internal discord. Add to that the looming specter of post-tenure review, a ritual that feels both perfunctory and ridiculous, and the turbulence increases.
On a deeper level, there's a spiritual evolution happening within me—a reflection on what my calling is as I navigate the second act of my life. This spiritual transition is a river running underground, quietly reshaping the landscape above. I've been deeply committed to my theater company, and as I've finally begun to transition its day-to-day leadership—a change I've desired—there's a listlessness, a restlessness that's crept in. I'm passing the baton but haven't yet found the next race I'm meant to run. With so many variables in flux, it's not surprising that anxiety and sleepless nights have emerged as unwelcome companions. Maybe they're not so much alarm bells as they are signals, reminding me that the discomfort of transition is often a precursor to meaningful change. The cocoon is tight and uncomfortable, but it's also the space where transformation occurs.
If you've navigated the shadowy corners of existential questions or have wisdom to share, I invite you to join this conversation—here in the comments, on Facebook by searching for Controlled Burn Sparks Community, or on Instagram at controlledburnthebook. Let's navigate this intricate maze together, one shared experience at a time. And if this resonates, consider sharing it from controlledburn.substack.com. You're not just a spectator in this theater of complexities; your presence, your voice, adds richness to this ongoing narrative. There's always room for one more in this complicated but rewarding journey.