Aren't You Afraid?

I’ve gotten the question a lot. Got it when I gave up stable and rewarding employment to serve in the Peace Corps for two years. Aren’t you afraid you’ll have to start all over from the bottom rung of the career ladder when you get back?

Got it when I left another highly satisfying job, took a 25% pay cut and gave up a sweet pension plan for work in the nonprofit sector with no health insurance and no 401K. Aren’t you taking a huge financial risk, aren’t you afraid you’ll later regret the loss of economic security?

Got the question whenever I outed corrupt officials. Aren’t you afraid you’ll be blackballed? Got it with each and every professional detour. Aren’t you afraid you’ll diminish your legacy?

Got it again when I sensed it was time to step away from a position of leadership and pass the baton in hopes of infusing my team with new blood. Won’t you miss being in charge, aren’t you afraid your successor will screw up what you’ve worked so hard for?

Got it once more when I traded the regular checks that come with being on some outfit’s payroll for the relative uncertainty of self-employment, giving more than a few acquaintances the impression I was retiring. Aren’t you afraid you’ll grow bored, lose your purpose in life?

Even got the same line of questioning when I recently traveled to Tanzania and bunked in a tented camp on the Serengeti plain. Weren’t you afraid of getting malaria or some other dread disease? Weren’t you afraid of being attacked by a lion or who knows what else? Weren’t you afraid they might not let you back in the country?

When did so many in the home of the brave become such fraidy-cats and worrywarts? I could be way off-base here, but it sure seems to me more Americans are more afraid of more things nowadays than at any time I can recall. I get it, a lot’s changing around us, and change is hard. I get it, we’re being propagandized to death, constantly told to be afraid of this or that.

Whatever the cause, we’re afraid for our safety and security. Arm ourselves to the teeth on account of that fear. Build gated communities with home security systems and video surveillance.

We’re afraid to take chances. Carry that risk aversion around with us, affecting everything from our relationships to our career choices. We’re afraid to speak up. Keep deeply held convictions to ourselves for fear of some steep price that will inevitably have to be paid for outspokenness.

I’ve written before about growing up on the farm, how we didn’t have locks on our doors. I wrote about my dad returning from war, vowing never to pick up a gun again. Never did. When awakened in the middle of the night by the sounds of a suspected intruder or other disturbance, he’d grab a baseball bat and disappear into the darkness to restore order.

What happened to the kind of fearlessness I witnessed in him? Where’d it go? No answers to these questions come readily to mind, only more questions. Why should I, why should you, why should anyone fear starting over, or retiring? In the grand scheme of things, what’s the big deal with giving up a little comfort or prestige if it means making way for someone else to get theirs? What’s really lost?

Elusive explanations notwithstanding, all of this sure says a lot about the nation’s prevailing mood and how angst follows us around like a pestering younger sibling. It also suggests a miscomprehension of purpose, that thing we’re all taught to fear losing when we retire. It’s not work we happen to be doing at some point in time. My purpose is to become the person only I am capable of being, your purpose is to be uniquely you. You are one of a kind, so am I.

Aging might come with some cracked branches and fallen limbs, but it doesn’t mean running out of leaves to turn over. When we move on from a job, we don’t leave our purpose behind. If we define our purpose only as the work we do, we don’t ever really get to know ourselves and become who we’re meant to be, and instead live in fear of losing what passes for purpose.

A past boss once asked me where I saw myself in five years. I knew she wanted to know if I had a plan, a career path mapped out for myself. I answered her lamely at the time. I know now what my answer should have been. I’ll be living purposefully, and that means fearlessly, wherever this person I’m becoming is needed most.