A Journey Through My Multiple Career Personalities: Employee, Entrepreneur, Child

Reading career coach Curt Rosengren's piece, "Find your passion compass"  on the Right Reality Blog a section resonated with me:

Half the people out there are dissatisfied with their work. Barely one in five actually find their work energizing. I’m convinced that one reason for the disconnect is that people don’t realize how simple it is to start bringing passion into the picture...

Passion is the energy that comes from bringing more of YOU into what you do...Unfortunately most of us aren’t consciously aware enough of who we are to purposefully make career decisions that incorporate it. We’re taught to focus on action and achievement, not introspection, and we end up flying blind as a result.

So THAT's what was going on in my career. If I had to define why I gave notice at my full-time job, before BlogHer was even a twinkle in Lisa's or Elisa's eye, it was--more than job dissatisfaction or extreme boredom--an identity crisis.

Back in my early 20s I dated a man who called me lucky because I knew "where I was headed," compared to most people my age who took a year off after college to work a temp job, travel, or ski. I ended up traipsing to New York at age 21 to make a name for myself. Unfortunately I had a short- and long-term vision, but no mid-term vision. No plan for the long slog in between the present and the end goal. I just prayed that the end goal would come quickly so there wouldn't be much dissatisfaction to navigate. There were only so many bagels and pasta shells I could eat for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Only so many subways I could take home at 2 in the morning because I couldn't afford a cab. Only so many phone calls from editors that wouldn't be returned. Once the reality of this middle ground (we'll call it Purgatory) began to settle in, I moved on, temporarily, to higher ground at some other job. But these new, shinier surfaces were destined to sink a few months in as well.

I did one thing right: I started young and generated enough steam to propel me before I freaked myself out--before having kids or being passed over disenchanted me from the rigors of a 9 to 11pm job. By the time I was 30 I had substantive experience, but I still felt like a Career Baby, like I hadn't made it past some echelon not defined by title or money but by some internal gauge of satisfaction.

What I did wrong was proceeding without asking myself what would be imperative during the journey:

• How many hours would I tolerate working every day? I thought the answer to this question was as many as necessary, but that absolute has tarnished over time.
• What hobbies or other interests were not to be put off until I'd "made it?" I'd assumed that my hobbies and interests would develop with my career, but I've found that they tend to be suppressed by it, and in some cases they grow in spite of it, causing more dissatisfaction.
• What did I absolutely, positively need to have in my life, whether I was successful in my career or not? This seems like an obvious question, but I didn't know my needs. Personal limits existed and contributed to my dissatisfaction, only I hadn't identified or even acknowledged them; they loomed like emotions that hadn't been expressed, so they made their presence known in other ways--overexertion and then burnout, or early boredom, or just full-out job sabotage. Never once did I ask myself: What is success?

I hadn't made a contingency plan for the career journey, which is like planning a hiking trip across the country to some dubious place and forgetting to pack food, a map, or a tent. I hoped that having a wallet would be subsistence enough.

At some point, during my last corporate job I had what I can only describe as a panic attack--the realization that I'd left on a journey 10 years ago and had yet to reach my destination. In fact, it occurred to me that I might never reach my destination, and I was starved of experience--of worthwhile moments that might have made the journey more satisfying. The panic was from wondering what I had done with all of that time. I suppose it was the inverse of what women who leave the workplace experience when they are faced with having to re-enter it. It's a feeling of unpreparedness, but instead of feeling unprepared to work, I felt unprepared to live a full life with breadth, depth, and spontaneity. 

I'm asked constantly how life has changed since I've been married, and I've found it difficult to reply. I usually say something nebulous, like, "It's the same but more, like, intense." But much more is going on. The question I began to ask in late 2004 looms larger: What do you work for? And the answer has become about someone else too. I still don't know the answer(s), but I see glimpses of clarity.

I cherish moments when I am watching TV with H-band, strangely, because they are not productive at all. I've placed a new premium on this intentionless period, where new thoughts and desires are allowed to enter unsolicited. Somewhere during the commercial breaks are images that are vaguely familiar, that hark back from before I had this rootless ambition. I'm allowed to stick my hands in the mud and feel around and find the origin of things. 

career meaningful work

Comments

[miffy]

Hey Jory, welcome to the "mud", I'm so glad you're here, I thought I might be in the wrong place!

[Joy]

You've always been pretty good about playing in the mud. -Mom

[Stacie Penney]

God, it's like you are reading my mind some days with your posts.

I'm at such a crossroads. I totally know where I want to be, but not how to get there.

Thanks, as always, for the insight and directions.

[Elizabeth Michel]

Jory, I love that last paragraph! Just last week Arnie read me a quote from Bertrand Russell: "The time you enjoy wasting is not a waste of time at all." When I let myself rest when I'm tired and play when I've worked too long to enjoy it any more, I actually work better when I get back to it, and I begin to enjoy it again as well.

Love,

Elizabeth

[Dan]

The mud is the mythic, the archetypal, the organic, the non-linear, the generative, and, oh yes, that which is fertile. People talk about getting a little mud on their shoes or "getting my hands dirty," meaning they let themselves get mixed up with life. Going back to the origins, to "beginner's mind," to the yin energy, not the yang. I can't wait to see what emerges!

PS So sorry to have missed you in Seattle, Jory. A little crisis overtook me.

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