The Death of Possibility

"When one door closes another opens, but it can be hell in the hallway." Ellen Debenport

68%.

“I’m sorry your score does not qualify you for the XXX customer service position thank you for applying to our company.”

68%? What is that? a C?

I wasn’t sure if I should laugh or cry.

I had gone online to apply for a remote position.  I figured if I work I could do remotely from Portugal it would at least alleviate some of my financial stress until I figured out the larger “what next” question. 

I also firmly believe that opportunity meets you on the road so I figured I better get out of the driveway of my mid life funk and try my best to find a job.

The company I applied to seemed promising.  They wanted someone from a Top 20 University (check) that could speak to other parents (check) about an innovative AI driven learning system that would allow maximum learning for minimal time.  Given that I had made two international moves with my kids somewhat motivated by unique educational opportunities I could be their ideal candidate.  Not to mention that when I am passionate about something (and I am about education) I am an eloquent and persuasive sales person.

The only hurdle was that to even get to an interview you needed to pass a cognitive assessment.

15 minutes. 

50 questions. 

No calculators or electronic assistance allowed.  Go.

68%.

I know what tripped me up.  It wasn’t the logic problems or those insanely annoying spatial shape problems.  It was the bloody long multiplication and division.  Can I do it?  Of course.  But who the heck does this anymore without a goddamn calculator.

Move the decimal point. Carry the one. Jeez.

I was slow.

I’m also 53.  I don’t run as fast anymore either. Guess what: our brain is also a muscle.

I tried to coddle my bruised ego by telling myself that the stupid AI program had dismissed an excellent candidate. “Your loss baby.”

Still, there it was, a closed door. 

I could argue that I might have failed the test 20 years ago.

I could accept that I didn’t really have my heart set on being a customer service agent.

Yet, there I was, staring at what felt like the death of possibility.

It’s not an illusion. It’s harder to get a job when you are “of a certain age”.

Motivational speakers will tell you otherwise.

Friends will encourage you saying “You’re so talented. You have so many marketable skills.”

While well intentioned this often makes you feel worse.

How do you keep one foot in possibility and one foot in reality?

A few weeks prior, I had started a program aimed at getting you in touch with your hearts true calling and longings. 

Yes, one of those programs. 

Don’t mock me. It was January and I was feeling stuck.

It asked you to list five careers you’d love to have. 

Here are mine: Dolphin trainer, Tenured Oxford Philosophy Professor, Peace Corp Doctor in Kenya; Investigative Journalist in an Exotic Foreign Country; NYT Best Selling Fiction Writer.

So realistically if I had the time, money and energy to go back to school, then graduate with what? a degree in marine biology or medicine or literature; I would then need to fight a bunch of perky twenty-year-olds for entry level positions in the hopes that I might then land one of the above listed dream jobs.

At that point I’d be 73?

I swear this self-help stuff can make you feel worse not better sometimes.

I think the worst part of mid life isn’t the wrinkles, the slow recovery time from injuries, the weight gain that seems immune to exercise. 

It’s the death of possibilities.

It’s knowing that while we weren’t paying attention doors have been closing.

Might have beens may never be.

While there are always inspirational stories and potentials for great changes, new loves and bold discoveries at 50, 60, 70 or beyond, most of us realize that the forks in the road we didn’t take – the roads not travelled are no longer available to us.

If only our lives were like those Choose Your Own Adventure Stories that would allow us to flip back to the page where we made the less-than-ideal choice and pick again.

We can’t though can we?

It is this that we must grieve.

The unlived lives and versions of ourselves.

This is not only a problem for those of us that may have made too many compromises or had decisions not turn out the way we planned.

Doesn’t every woman, however happy with their life, have that secret romance; that summer where they briefly indulged some fantasy or passion only to come to their senses and choose a more sensible path.

Inside of all of us isn’t there a little voice: the ghost of our unlived lives that starts haunting us in midlife whispering:

What If?

Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash