Will I Ever Feel Like Working Again?

I’m in a weird space in time where there is no one or nothing putting pressure on me to land a job by a certain date. I am grateful for this opportunity, but it’s not all party, party, party. At the beginning of the year, I had visions of grandeur for this summer. I imagined spending the summer writing a book, starting a business, reaching out to all sorts of people. The reality? It’s August and I’m wondering if I’ll ever feel like working again.

It’s a luxury to wonder this, and at some point I won’t have that luxury, but navigating the present has it’s challenges. It’s been thirty-four years since I didn’t have a paying job in the summer and longer if you count mowing or babysitting. Thirty-four! I know a lot of people who haven’t been alive that long. So I guess it’s not a complete surprise I didn’t spend my entire summer jumping out of bed and job-hunting. In fact, I didn’t spend my summer jumping out of bed for much. I did, however, slowly chip away at some things, and I spent some valuable time with my family. I watered my garden, literally, and planted some metaphorical seeds. I listened to podcasts on long walks. I continued the full-time job of being a mom, a wife, a homeowner. I met some new people and spent time with friends. I rotated through very few of the clothes in my wardrobe, got rid of more of them and somehow managed to buy a few more. My closet is place of possibilities and dreams for the places I plan to go and things I plan to do. What’s left in it sits patiently and proudly with hope and confidence for the future.

I’ve been exploring one career path for a few months, one I’m qualified for, but it’s been a strange journey. On paper, this seems a great direction, but the reality is talking with people about it sucks the energy right out of me. It seems to be a visceral, physical reaction. On top of that, I’ve been reminded of the unfortunate perceptions of being an executive woman in business in male — dominated roles. I had one person tell me, “It’s harder for you [to do what you do] because you’re a woman. Because I’m a man, I could just walk in and tell everyone what to do.” I want to give a shout-out to my male colleagues who know better than this, especially those who always treated me with respect and at least as an equal.

On the other hand, I had a person tell me to remember what I’m worth so I don’t end up being a world-class chef who is asked to make a grilled cheese sandwich. This was a supportive reminder. Incidentally, I make a mean grilled cheese paired with a homemade tomato soup (and I use the word “paired”). Thanks again, Covid, for the time to hone my cooking skills. A side note, when I was in college, the head of the chemical engineering department was quoted as saying more women are entering the major because chemistry is like cooking. I smile at the irony that I learned how to cook after I learned how to be an engineer.

There are a few fires burning quietly right now. These are little fires that don’t seem as obvious, lucrative or logical. These are the ones I’m tending. I’m marching on, one foot after the other. I’d like to feel like Julie Andrews singing on the mountain in Austria, but I don’t. Yet. I’m pretty sure it was Brene Brown who said, “Keep doing the next right thing.” That’s what I’m doing — what is right for me, right now. I’m walking through this obstacle course and learning to enjoy what is right in front of me, learning a lot about patience and learning how to look at life as more than a scorecard. I know I will be ready enough when I find the right thing. I may not be all the way ready, because let’s face it, it can be hard to go back out there and fight dragons when you’ve grown used to kittens and herb gardens and quiet yoga and less bullshit. But, manure makes things grow, and I like growing and being along side others as they grow. There’s more work to be done inside ourselves and out in the world. Don’t count me out.