After a few years break from working professionally with bicycles, I decided to return to the industry. I realize that I never truly left as I found places to volunteer and ways to maintain my own bike. It is a passion that I don't even need to try to involve myself with, it seems to follow me around wherever I go. I'm not complaining, bicycles bring me a ton of joy.
The first time I built my own bike and took it for a test ride tears pooled in my eyes. It was literally one of the best moments of my life. Then to go on and use that bicycle to make a living by couriering...I was over the moon with my accomplishments. Buying a car and realizing I no longer had the freedom, independence and safety that fixing my own mode of transportation offered me was disheartening and I wasn't motivated to keep it for long.
Re-entering the industry, especially as a mechanic, was pretty terrifying for me. I could tell that my adrenals were going and I felt really attached to the outcome of my applications. I felt conspicuous when I went into bike shops, eyed by the many dudes with curious eyes, assumptions that I was applying for a sales position. Some of it in my mind and some of it real.
Once I got a position, I was in disbelief. I sailed through my interviews with directness and honesty about what I was looking for and a feigned confidence that I didn't truly feel. My sense of feeling like it was a long shot seemed to give me a nothing-to-lose edge.
Why though? I have plenty of experience in different shops over the years. I am definitely qualified on paper and in reality. It just feels like no matter how hard I try I feel like I'm not really doing it. The story goes: Bike mechanics? That's not something I'm capable of.
Even though I'm doing it, my mind is telling me I'm not. It's confusing and debilitating. It interferes with my work, my mental health, my interpersonal relationships with my colleagues. Half of my day is spent just convincing myself that I deserve to be there and I'm generally surrounded by guys that I feel cannot comprehend what I'm experiencing.
Many of them are lovely, encouraging, patient and wonderful men that are willing and eager to teach me. Yet none of them understand the mental block that I'm experiencing. None of them can coach me through that aspect of the learning.
I know it's an exchange and that they likely learn as much from me as I them, but I don't think they realize or appreciate it. They are teaching me a skill that we are getting paid to do, I am teaching them something more invisible. I am teaching them how to be more compassionate people. How to appreciate the elderly, how to empathize with the queers, and how to contextualize their masculinity. Quietly I labor by their sides, suffering on multiple levels about the quality and quantity of my own contribution.
Drained, I'm spending my day off trying to collect the pieces of myself, eye twitching/appetite seemingly lost, endlessly grateful for my beautiful collection of friends that nourish my existence. Wondering if it's okay to do nothing, dabbling in things I consider productive and feeling like I'm living in a dreamlike haze.
I'm driven by the understanding that I am helping blaze a path for other sensitive individuals who might not have been able to see themselves in the culture of the trades. This fuels my passion and keeps me getting up in the morning and hopping on my bicycle. The ride in helps me prepare my mind for another strenuous workout and the ride home helps me calm my mind so I don't land at home only to dive into an unhealthy addiction.
Will I one day feel like I belong? What does belonging feel like?
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