Dictionary Petition

How do you define yourself? On your own? Through your job? Through your spouse/family? Through your friends? Through your neighborhood? Through your church?

I am questioning the definition of me these days. I could, at one time, clearly articulate who I was. I was a loving, giving, empathetic, British-literature-loving, Scotland-obsessed, Christian woman with a strong will, direct purpose and a creative soul. I had passions and followed them. I had nothing to stand in my way of where I wanted to go, and yet, I often didn't go. I was always the sweet one; always the first one there with a kleenex box and an open shoulder. I was also the bold one - taking on grad school with a creative writing degree. What sane person chooses that?

I did. And I gloried in it. I relished the fact that I was certain in what I wanted and where I was going.

THAT person has . . . slipped away. In her place is iRobot. I go through my Chrysler Plant day, performing the motions and accomplishing one task at a time. No real variety. No strong desires pushing me forward. Just a sense of "Must Do This."

Must be perfect at work. This is huge and overwhelming and slowly poisoning everything creative in me. Work is the same monotonous routines with extremely detailed rules that must be followed to the letter or someone could end up in prison. At least 40 hours of my week is cast into the void and every day numbs at least .5% of the creative side of my brain. It holds me in its Raven claws: Creativity - "Nevermore". And as if that isn't bad enough, I am incessantly, painfully aware of the fact that my job is what is keeping not just me, but my husband, afloat. He gets to have the fun, creative job, and mine is the one that really pays the bills.

Must be perfect at home. I take care of all the bills, all the cooking, all the cleaning, all the grocery shopping and I keep track of every event that goes on or will go on. I'm a drone at work and then a drone at home.

Must be the perfect wife. Must have the perfect body with the latest fashion and flawless hair and make up. Must smell nice at all times. Must stand properly and sleep properly and heaven forbid I should change anything about myself without consulting either a professional makeover artist, or my husband. Sweatshirts can only be worn to football games and Addidas pants can only be worn when ill or working out. Even pjs must be "in style."

Must be Southernized. Must have correct manners and opinions and be completely narrowminded when it comes to Christianity. If someone tells you non-stop you're going to Hell for doing pretty much anything outside of breathing and prayer, that pretty much takes the joy out of belief. Must read only the Bible, Max Lucato and definitely Billy Graham. Must NOT like Harry Potter. I could burn at the stake as a heretic for this.

Must. Must. Must.

My natural instinct at this point is to chuck it all. Just leave it all behind, go somewhere new, and re-define myself. That would be the easy way. It's changing IN the environment in which I've somehow become entrenched that is climbing Everest.

After all of the above, I will say this. I have retained one aspect of my former life: hope. I cling, rather tenaciously these days, to the 1/4 inch twig on the side of Everest. I HAVE to believe that I can find "myself" again. That no one's opinions of me matter, except for those of my Heavenly Father. Those matter a lot.

So, how are you defined? And are you happy with Webster?

I'm petitioning the OED (Oxford English Dictionary) board for a new, 2008 definition of Heather McMullin. They have more authority than Webster.