Recently, I’ve been thinking about writing something different—something other than food and wine. (Shocking, I know.) That led me to Thursday Thoughts, which I tried last week for the first time and quite enjoyed. A little fun, a little different, and no risk of overindulging in cheese or Chardonnay. Win-win.
This whole idea of switching things up got me reflecting—again—on my recurring identity crisis. It’s an ongoing conversation with a friend of mine in England, who insists on calling me a career woman.
Now, I beg to differ. Strongly. Vehemently, even. I am merely a woman of a certain age who tripped, fell flat on her face (it hurt a little, actually), and landed—hard—into a job. A job that somehow became jobs (three, maybe four, depending on the day) that I work ridiculously hard at but still feel like I’m barely skimming the surface. Does that make it a career? I think not. I really, really think not.
But because I am unmarried, without children, and immersed in an absurdly busy job, the world seems determined to stick me with the career woman label. Is that just how it works? When you don’t fit into one box, they shove you into another?
Which brings me to the bigger question: What is my identity? Right now, I seem to be known as the person who works too much, never has time to return a friend’s call, and routinely remembers to check in with her family at precisely the wrong time—like 7 p.m. my time, when it’s midnight in England. (Sorry, Mum.)
That’s not exactly the legacy I want. But what do I want? A princess? An astronaut? A firefighter? A doctor? (Probably a bit late for those.)
Maybe I’d rather be known as a working woman with a fun passion for writing, a fantastic group of friends, a solid social life, and a family who loves her. A long identity, sure—but one I can happily live with.
What do you think?
Welcome to the club, Tracey. Sometimes when there doesn’t exist a template for the life we have, or the life we want to have, we need to build it ourselves. Being a pioneer can be frustrating and lonely too. I’m a gay man largely shunned by the gay community for my entire life, until suddenly (ta da!) they put down their wigs and pompoms and decide that being educated, masculine men is the key to happiness and fulfillment. Where were you a##holes when I was building my identity? Why did I have do everything on my own? Argh.