My job is rough. There are times I don’t like anything about it. I’ve given much of my life to it because it’s a job that is crucial to our society, and personally important to me. Unfortunately though, it requires the people who do it to be the best versions of themselves nearly all the time, and it is more than willing to readily consume everything you let it take from you. Looking back from the perspective of at least the back nine of my career, I see I made the mistake of putting too much into it. Dedication is one thing, and it’s an important element of being a successful teacher, but there’s a tipping point when it becomes too much. I put in too much, and doing that was a mistake. Not just a little one either, but one of the defining mistakes of my life. If I were going to pass on advice to anyone in the early stages of their career, it would be to fight hard to maintain the balance you need between home and school if you’re going to have a happy life.
Oooh wait, did I just subtly drop something in there to lead people into inferring that I’m not happy? Hmm, well, yes and no. I wouldn’t say that I’m unhappy. I’d say I’m content with my life more than anything else. Happy, though? That’s tough. I’ve always seen happiness as more aspirational than deserved; something that happens in fleeting bursts, the euphoric moments when everything about everything feels exactly as we’d want it to be, when fear and anxiety and stress and frustrations are minimized long enough to let us recognize and appreciate the moments for what they are. My life is full of problems, but it’s also full of blessings. I think acknowledging the power both of those have over how I think and feel means that being content with life is actually a pretty significant win. And I’m mostly fine with that.
Is it enough, though? Should it be?
There are times I don’t like anything about my job, but there are also times I love everything about it. Either way, I come home at the end of the day exhausted. What about writing? Well, once again, love and hate. I love the process of it. I love the rush of seeing something I try to create from nothing but ideas become a tangible piece of art that can communicate with other people (for the record, I’m still mostly uncomfortable with referring to anything I write as “art,” but I’m slowly getting used to it). Outside of the process, there is little about the business side of writing and publishing that hasn’t frustrated me in some way or other. There’s that emotional pairing again — problems and blessings.
A lot has rolled through the media about the idea of self-care in the past year. I never paid much attention to it before, but I’ve come to see the value of it when I had to drag myself through the more challenging lows of pandemic isolation. It makes me think about what things will be or could be like once the world locks into whatever normal will prove to be. Happily it seems like we’re getting closer and closer to that time with each passing week.
When it’s here, where does that leave everything? The temptation to easily slip back into contentment will absolutely be there, holding up a soft blanket and waiting to embrace me with and endless loop of The Office reruns and Marvel movie re-watches as I enjoy being able to relax through the times I don’t have to deal with extraordinary professional challenges and questions about my validity. When normal returns, what happens next? Who will I choose to be in the post-pandemic world around me? What will I need to do differently to if I actively approach a more robust happiness, instead of just accepting what seems good enough when I’m not getting buckets of stress and criticism poured over me? Do I need wholesale changes? Actual post-pandemic redefining? Or maybe just a few well-planned tweaks? What would be enough to make the difference that I seem to feel I might need?
It’s seeming like something I'll have to figure out sooner than later.
No comments:
Post a Comment