The further I go in the process of losing this job, the more I realize that I am actually being blessed. Because I feel so keenly the weight of that "mile marker" -- age 40 -- up ahead, because so many other things in my life and The Hub's life have changed so much since we've been home, because, in a way I've already failed, it seems like now, maybe, I can finally get to the heart of some of the issues that seem to hold me back in life.

I think I'm a very simple, straightforward person. I don't think there's anything mysterious or complex about me. But even the simplist person...

has some level of complexity, some conflict within herself.

While it doesn't sound like a good thing to realize that you have a problem you never realized you had before, it IS a good thing, because once you realize something is a problem you can work on solving it. If it doesn't get solved you wind up doing the same stupid stuff over and over again, which has pretty much been the story of my whole working life.

I've realized that part of my problem is that I'm trying to prove that I am tough enough. Well, you may ask, tough enough for what? Tough enough to overstuff? To fight Mike Tyson? To need meat tenderizer? What the heck am I talking about? Believe me, people ask me that every day!

For the early part of my life, I was an easy type to spot. I looked like what I was: an unpopular, shy, backwards bookworm with a wackey sense of the absurd peeking out from coke bottle lens glasses hoping that someone would bear enough of my brittle, vocabulary-choked conversation to see the girl inside.

But, when I started working something wierd happened. I got contact lenses and I could see better, but, for some reason, people started seeing me differently. I was tall, I was thin, my hair was light, my eyes are blue. Having had to overcome a small speech defect when I was little, my diction was scrupulous. I was in a back brace for 4 years so let me tell you what: I've got some kind of posture. I wasn't beautiful, I wasn't even pretty, having very even, bland features. But, nevertheless, I looked like a "type". People told me "You look like a yuppie", "like a prep school girl", "like you were born with a silver spoon in your mouth."

The truth was, I hadn't had the advantages people assumed I had, and I had principles people assumed I didn't. As a result, I became more and more like the meaning of my first name "War-like One" I didn't want anyone to mistake me for a lazy, easy girl, ESPECIALLY having paid my dues as an outsider. But now I was rejected on looks alone by outsiders, and self selected against the "insiders". I wanted to prove that I was tough, that I could make it on my own, that there was nothing I couldn't do.

Work 14 hours a day, change my oil, install an electrical plug, graduate from college, write the great American novel, shovel coal, lift boxes, show up for work at the fish market at 3:00 a.m., not back down from the man who carried a gun..."to fight for the right/without question or pause/ to be willing to march into hell/ for a heavenly cause!" That's from the show Man of LaMancha, "(To Dream)The Impossible Dream". And it all WAS an impossible dream considering that I wanted to do all of that - hell, I DID do most of it - all at the same time, while trying to not ruin my romantic relationships, let my house become cluttered or dirty, or breaking a nail. And I didn't exactly have my health either.

Talk about setting yourself up for failure!

But this "toughness" thing became sort of an obsession with me, even though it was very clear that the only person it was "tough" on was me. Well, that's not really true. It certainly contributed to the end of my first marriage. But I wouldn't give it up. And, after awhile,I COULDN'T give it up, because people were depending on me to be tough.

I had deliberately chosen work like serving subpoenas, "chasing" (in person bill collecting) skip-tracing ( that's like sort of legal fraud - the only job I'm sure I'm gonna have some 'splainin' to do about at the gates of heaven. I lived on my own and dived right into negotiations with seemy landlords, auto insurance problems, dealings with the police when my place was burglerized. Unwavering in my conviction that people are all pretty much the same, I had friends in low places. I couldn't help but learn some stuff. So friends and the men in my life could count on me to know what to do about a turn-off notice, a traffic ticket, a peeping tom or a "raincoat guy".

Some of this has developed into stuff that I'm glad of, like the fact that if something is on fire I don't scream, I look around for the means to put it out ( I scream later) and if a fuse blows, if I can reach the panel I can turn it back on.

But, when I finally went to college, it became clear that the other part of me was just as strong and waiting to come out. This is the part that reserves judgement until all the facts are in, the good listener, the person who values the well being of others more than an idea, a goal, or a dream. It's about then that I became really adamanet about using my second name, the one that means "A brook or stream". There's hardly a stronger force in the world than water - it can wear way the greatest mountain over time. But water takes the path of least resistence. Its a force that works with, not against nature.

I now realize that my working life has been an expression of this conflict within myself. Yes, I want to help others, but not in so called "soft" fields like teaching or social work. Yes, I want to fight social injustice, but not with voilence, screaming, or even protesting.

It's very difficult to get much accomplished when you're fighting with yourself all the time.

But now I realize what the fight's about. The Elliott-Warrior-Princess in my heart is never going to die, but she may be able to learn the queenly accomplishments of diplomacy and co-operation. And every warrior has to lay down arms at some point - if they live long enough. Maybe I'm ready to say I have proven myself, that I have been tough enough for long enough. Maybe I finally can move on and do something else, besides make the same dumb mistakes over and over again.