My “27 Dresses”

A few weeks ago I made a trip to retrieve a giant pile of gowns from storage. It wasn’t exactly the romcom closet stuffed with 27 (mostly hideous) bridesmaids dresses — but it was a lot.

These are what I wore over two decades of performing — not as principal flutist, but as a concerto soloist with the Boston Symphony. These are not standard concert black. They are the hand-selected, beautifully-made, colorful formal gowns I wore when standing in front of the orchestra.

I gathered them up last month to donate to a nonprofit that provides prom dresses to young women who can’t afford them.

Sentimental

I am not a particularly sentimental person, and I don’t often get attached to things. But standing there, seeing all these dresses, reading the tags showing when and where I had worn them, realizing just how many times I had performed as a soloist — this brought up a lot.

Those dresses represented something. They were real evidence of accomplishment, and a tangible connection to that time of my life. They also were symbols of identity and status.

I love the idea of shedding the old to make room for the new. It’s part of a natural cycle of destruction and creation — a necessary part of change and growth.

And it can be emotional. Especially if we’ve still got work to do, detangling what we do from who we are.

Tender

I don’t play concertos anymore. Those gowns belong in someone else’s closet. Saying goodbye to them felt like one more step towards shedding that old identity.

Necessary. And still a bit tender.

For most of us, it takes conscious work to solidify an identity that isn’t totally bound up in what we do for a living. To create enough sense of who we are, separate from our work. To know that our value transcends any external labels or titles or status.

This doesn't come naturally for me. And it makes sense that a part of me is still fragile when faced with changes to my own professional identity.

Not Alone

I have clients working through this right now, too, each in a different way.

One, by choice, left a long successful career to step into a wide-open space of “something else.” This isn’t retirement — she wants to use her time and talents in a new, yet to be determined, way. Right now, she’s suspended mid-air, having let go of that first career trapeze but not yet finding the second. This takes courage and trust. And it’s been destabilizing for her to be in this messy, undefined space, to no longer have that easy “calling card” intro she used to rely on.

She’s working on allowing her feelings to be complicated, adjusting to the instability, and learning to tolerate the not knowing.

Another client is facing an unexpected, existential threat to his business. If you ask him today, he absolutely can not conceive of who he will be if the worst happens and he loses the business partner he has relied on for his sense of security and status.

He’s working on beginning to recognize his inherent value — not based on external factors, but in a more holistic way. He is more than his job, and he’s learning to see that for himself so that whatever occurs in his business, he can be secure in who he is.

Another was forced out of her prestigious leadership role and is surprised that she is now asking herself whether she ever really wanted to be in that profession in the first place. She’s even more surprised that this feels empowering. This career earthquake gave her permission to ask questions she never had to face — or gave herself time to consider.

For her, the destruction of her previous career has opened up brand new possibilities for creation.

All three are in a time of disruption, destabilization — and a forced awareness of just how much they attached their sense of self-worth to their jobs.

All three are working to find more dimension in their identities, to strengthen their sense of self-worth so they don’t outsource so much of it to their jobs. This is deep, important work. Anyone can do it. And it’s not easy. 

Gentle

The way forward — for them and for me — is to meet ourselves with gentleness and acceptance, knowing that these feelings of intense discomfort can teach us something important about ourselves.

I still have discomfort about shedding that past identity. It felt tender to say goodbye to those dresses.

And I remind myself that discomfort doesn't equal wrong. That I am okay just as I am. And that I can be gentle with myself while I continue to grow.

You

INVITATION TO REFLECT: Whether or not your career is stable right now, chances are you'll face some sort of professional upheaval eventually — most of us do! Consider getting curious about how much of your identity is tied up in what you do for work. Do you pay attention to, and value, the other parts of your life, too?

PS — If this topic hits home, let me know (click the Contact button below) and I'll point you to other useful resources. 

PPS — Here are some (not all) of those donated dresses:

My “27 Dresses”