A Tiger in Sheep's Clothing

I'm not one of those "animal" people. I mean, I like dogs and...[awkward silence]...and...okay, I'm proving my own point. I really only like dogs. But I do think that animal metaphors as they're used in some mythologies are very helpful when trying to decide what one is going to be in life. When people liken me to different animals, it sticks with me. I was surprised when, in the midst of one of those What kind of animal are you? games, someone told me I was a shark. Never in my life have I considered myself 1) marine in any way 2) a fish 3) a killer fish 4) with three rows of teeth. I was taken aback at the violence of it all. But as this person was talking I kept thinking, "Well, you're a squirrel and I'm a shark so I win," which I suppose proved her point. I've also been likened to a rabid golden retriever and an owl and on one of those Buzzfeed quizzes I was very proud of getting an elephant for its wisdom. My most proud animal-related moment though was being called "Tiger" in Kindergarten and it has stuck with me for decades.

I remember it like it was yesterday. It was in the fall, I had just started Kindergarten and every Wednesday and Friday we would either go to the library and sit on the "whistle chairs" (the coolest bean-baggish, chairs in the shape of whistles) or go to the gym and run around. One of those days, the Independence Fire Department came in to do a "stop, drop, and roll" workshop. I was wearing my favorite maroon corduroys and what they're now calling a "ringer" t-shirt that you'd wear to play baseball. I had just gotten my first pair of glasses. For the early 80s, I was working it. And I got to do the "stop, drop, and roll" demonstration. And afterward, the Chief (who I also knew as Mr. Mack but he was actually Fire Chief Mack) clapped me on the back and said, "That's it Tiger. Way to go" and shook my hand...and I remember how much like a tree branch his arm was (even though in actual adult life, Mr. Mack was about 5'6" and very sinewy...I might call him "bandy"...he was a tough little guy...). Henceforth, I was Tiger in my head. And even in my most stress-filled moments throughout High School, when I needed to have a little talk with myself about digging in, would refer to myself in my own head as Tiger. Tigers win with efficient grace.

But over time, Tiger got lost. I think I realized it most pointedly about a year ago. I was grinding out my dissertation, completely alone, and when it was time for a dig in moment with myself, there was no Tiger in there. Even after finishing my graduate work, there was little light to find. Every day was another chapter of sleeplessness, restlessness, anxiety. It felt like my apartment walls were closing in on me but I was reticent to go anywhere because I knew I looked miserable. Now the bigger question pressed itself back at me, "What are you going to do with yourself?" "What's your purpose?" "What do you mean here?" The holidays I thought would be so full of joy and light felt very tenuous. I could feel the pressure of expectations. "Katie, why aren't you happier?"
There is nothing more heartbreaking than watching people who you know love you suffer on your behalf. They hang in there for you, they hope the best, the ask how they can be helpful and there is no answer for them except to hang in there a little longer. Keep calling even though I might not answer. Keep rooting for me even though I'm not giving you a good reason to right now. Some things you just need to walk through on your own. Even more heartbreaking than watching them suffer for you is knowing they'll keep doing what you ask because they're good and kind and they make you wonder if you'd do the same for them (and thank God for the momentary relief when that very small answer comes back "yes of course").

Never ever in my earlier life did I think I'd wrestle with depression. When you're an alpha "doer" the world is your oyster. All problems tackled to the ground and pinned in submission. There's a certain fearlessness that comes with achievement: the question is never "if" and always "how." Somewhere between my achiever years of my teens and this particular moment in my life, I became less brave. That happens, I know. It's so cliche. You become and adult and everything gets conservative. You have stuff to care for, like your reputation and your FICO credit score. Nothing good will come of you waggling your bravery in the face of financial America. You'll pay for that, literally, in the end. I think my depressedness (which should be pronounced de-press-ed-ness) came from a very deep, very small kernel of knowing that I was no longer Tiger. I was, in fact, a sheep: stupid, lazy, smelly, only good for my wool.

What to do? How does a tiger shed sheep's clothing? Are there ways to get back to the Tiger I want to be? Have I missed that chance? I haven't missed the chance. But the choices I start to make in the next year will be crucial...and they have to be tiger-oriented. Otherwise, I'm going to waste away into the herd...and I've got too much hunting left to do.