“I tried to hide the pain, I bought some wine and hopped a train…”

 

 

 

I’m asked in a text:

“Do you think falling from such high, socially enviable, secure (seemingly) positions has changed you life goals, or your value of those positions?”

 

 

 

I want to reply:

Do you mean – do I feel as though I missed out on so many things that most people do in their youth because I wanted to get into law enforcement?

Are you asking if I regret not misbehaving or getting into trouble or experimenting with drugs because I refused to jeopardize my shot at my goal?

Is the purpose of the question to determine if I was crestfallen to learn that my record prior to the age of 18 would’ve had no effect?

Or that no one believed I never experimented with drugs or even drank or smoked underage?

Or that my bosses did all the things I thought would hobble my efforts (and more) and had not only done my job but advanced far beyond me?

Is the interrogative aimed at discovering the degree to which I fell into depression once I realized I was twice as smart as (if not more than) the vast majority of my co-workers or my supervisors (especially my supervisors)?

Or my sorrow at being fired for “incompetence” even though I’d written the tests they use, I created the interviewing techniques they adopted and I coined the terminology that they “borrowed” when completing memos?

Or my suicidal behavior upon realizing that lofty and high-paid positions rarely involve merit – rather the ability to maintain the status quo, to shut up and do as one is told?

Or is the real question:

Am I utterly despondent at learning the nigh on impossible standards I set for myself – and achieved – were shared by no one I’d ever met yet I was ousted in disgrace thus rendering my almost monastic self-discipline during my youth needless and, worse yet, pointless?

 

 

 

Instead, sighing, I type back:

Yes, definitely.

And hit ‘Send’.

Ω