I’m Write Where I’m Supposed to Be

Get it?  I’m WRITE and RIGHT where I’m supposed to be.  It’s been four months since I’ve been focusing on my writing.  Something I always wanted to do.  Something that I always needed to do.  And…it’s been four months since I’ve been gainfully employed.

Gainful employment.  What does that even mean anyway?  According to Wikipedia, “Gainful employment is a positive psychology concept that explores the benefits of work and employment. Second only to personal relationships, work is the most important determinant of quality of life.”

For much of my life, my work was an ‘important determinant in the quality of my life’.  It gave me purpose.  It fueled my belief that I was worth something.  My work was extraordinarily rewarding, fulfilling and suffused in all of the ‘make a difference’ requirements I had placed as a necessity for my career.  For me, my work needed to be about impact, making a difference, building a legacy.  It had to be more than the unending quest for the next title, next promotion.  And it was.  Yet, as opposed as I was to taking a job for title alone, I was also conflicted with the feeling that I hadn’t accomplished enough at my age – especially because I didn’t have a title.  Such irony in between those two thoughts.

Don’t take a job just for the title vs. I’m not enough – because I don’t have an important title.

The furthest I made it up the corporate ladder was ‘Manager’.  The work I did operated on a guidepost or pillar of building a network of people that can make a difference, make an impact REGARDLESS of their title.  Whether they were a cashier or a Senior Vice President – we considered their ideas, their worth, their voice – equally as important.  A higher title shouldn’t allow one to silence the voice of those with a ‘lesser title’.

Yet, despite this pillar, this guidepost – I didn’t believe that about myself.  Deep down, I didn’t believe I had the same worth as others that I sat in rooms with.  Others that held titles higher than mine.  I knew I was good at what I did.  But.  BUT…There was always a but lurking in the background.  This ‘but’ was a cloak of unworthiness based on my low level title.

I talked the talk.  But I didn’t walk the walk.  It was much easier for me to see the worth in others, than it was to see it in myself.

Now, here I am…unemployed, retired, on hiatus, taking a break…whatever you want to call it.  And I’m realizing, albeit slowly, the worth that I had.  And the worth I have. Sometimes we have to step back from something for a while to appreciate it, to understand it, to embrace it.

And that’s where I am now.  Appreciating.  Understanding.  Embracing.

I was so busy when I was in it, that I couldn’t see it.  I couldn’t see all that I did, all that I contributed.  Because the story I kept telling myself, unknowingly, was that I was just a manager, which really meant, I am not enough…I’m not as good as.

Now, when people ask what I’m doing – I kind of give them this blank stare and I pause. Because for so long, my identity, besides being a Mom, was my job, my corporate j-o-b…and I don’t have that any longer.  Sometimes, I realize that not having the j-o-b leaves me feeling less worthy.  But I’m working on replacing that blank stare and eliminating my low worth self talk with, “I’m a Writer.”

Yes.  That’s it.  I’m a Writer.  I’m a yoga wearing, sometimes sleep in ’til 8, latte drinking, Writer.  And that doesn’t make me any less valuable than I was when I was a Manager.  But sometimes I have to remind myself of that.  Because we live in a world heavily laden in rank and competition, titles and power.  And on paper…I don’t have any of that.  But then what does a piece of paper mean?  In my heart, I’m full.  In my heart, I’m enough.

Yesterday I had lunch with friends that I used to work with at the corporate j-o-b, and they asked how the writing was going. My first response without thinking was, “I’m right where I’m supposed to be.”

Later last night, I was volunteering at Noah’s school for an event and ran into Noah’s fourth grade teacher.  She thanked me for coming to work at the school event and asked if I liked deciding how to fill my days.  I told her I loved it, loved spending my time writing. She asked if I’m going to take all my writing and turn it into a book.  I told her that was my plan.  She laughed, told me she knew I would.  And I responded, again without really thinking, “I’m right where I’m supposed to be.”

And it hit me hard in that moment.  That this very phrase, this very thought, I’m right where I’m supposed to be, is my deep, authentic truth.  When I take away all of the expectations I think others have of me.  When I strip myself of the titles I think I should have…THIS is the very place I should be right now.

I’m write/right where I’m supposed to be.  Mommying.  Writing.  Making up words. Wearing yoga pants.  Drinking Lattes. Sometimes getting up at 8am.  Volunteering at school.  Digging deep.  Working on myself.  Focusing on my family.  Baking cookies. Living with less stress.  Enjoying more moments.  Living more authentically.  This is my new gainful employment.  Writing.  Being.  Mommying.

Yes.  This.

This is where I’m supposed to be.