Who Am I, if not...

I've been grappling with questions of identity ever since I lost the ability to perform due to an injury back in October 2010. Back then the question was Am I a still a musician if I can't play?

Lately I'm wondering who am I, if I'm not moree at ithaca dot edu...

I've been a college professor for more than half my life. I've been Professor Debbie, Mizz Mooohreee, Professor Moree and Ms. M. I relate the most to Ms. M in part because it's just so quick and easy to write and because it denotes perfectly that sense of formality and informality that defines me to a tee. I'm sure this moniker was confusing to some of my students. I wore jeans to class, never wore make-up unless I was on stage, occasionally swore in Rep Class, allowed my students to "friend" me on Facebook and definitely did not want to be called by my first name.

So who am I, if I'm not moree at ithaca dot edu? My colleagues think I'm the gal who gave up tenure and a nice salary for reasons that don't quite make sense. Something about being more passionate about something other than music (how unthinkable!). Many of my friends think I'm living the dream, having quit a job that made me unhappy to my core for such a long time. So what if our income is cut by more than half? I'm happy, we're happy. It's all good. 

Who am I, if I'm not moree at ithaca dot edu?  I'm the woman who craves alone time, at home in the daylight hours. I'd rather read than socialize, rather shoot and edit photos than attend a party. I'd rather have a day with my sweetie, rambling from one junk shop to the next, than shop at some fancy schmancy boutique. I don't give a damn about the latest fashions and as long as my shirts don't make me sweat, my jeans fit around the waist and my shoes don't make my feet hurt, I'm good to go. I relish tending to my home. I love to cook, tidy up and yes, I make the bed every day. Why, I even enjoy cleaning. I don't mind doing the laundry, love to tinker and fix things, and lately I've even become a little crafty.

Given a penchant for goal-setting and ladder-climbing in my former life, it's interesting to suddenly find myself comfortable with inertia. I've experienced ups and down with this inertia thing ever since I left the college. In May, June and July I was in a state of almost total euphoria. My energy knew no bounds. In August and September as the school year started I savored the fact that I wasn't there. I worked all day in the shop the day classes began, secretly gloating, knowing that less than three miles away my colleagues were running around like crazy people. As the fall went on my energy faded and a deep tired set in. I struggled to find a day-to-day routine, hoping it would make itself apparent to me. One day I finally admitted out loud that I was tired and not just a little tired, a lot tired...as in thirty years worth of tired. Though my mind was raring to go in a new direction, my body said Wait, just hold on a minute, I need to catch up!

October was fraught with the stress of making my decision public. I agonized over the notification letter almost as much as I'd agonized over the decision itself. And then, in a click it was done. I received some amazingly beautiful messages from colleagues right after the announcement. Truly amazing. I wept loud and long over them, thinking how lovely it was to hear such sweet things and how sad it was that we never manage to say those kinds of things 'til folks are moving on or until they're dead. Wow, I aim to learn from this.

So here I am again today pondering the $64,000 question. Who the hell am I, if I'm not...Ms. M or moree at ithaca dot edu or a professional violist or that full professor with tenure and thirty years of teaching experience? I am Debra, Debbie and Deb. It matters not. I am compassionate, wholehearted, courageous and vulnerable...or at least striving to be. I am a musician, an artist, a teacher, a collector of old things with history and a story. I am me.

I am a work in progress.