To love your job
Raise your hand if you love your job. My parents seemed to enjoy their job, sometimes, and I know my grandfather loved his job because he still really enjoys talking about it (at the age of 97). I know some of my friends love their jobs, but most of them are grad students and seem to have a very conflicted relationship with that, if you can call it a profession.
Most people I know talk about their job like they are in a holding pattern. They think it's a step to something else, whether a better position or retirement. I've had a position like this and it made me ill. So, I'm in a heartbreaking position now, because I love my job. I love what I actually get money (income!) to do. I love it as a part of me. I drink my own corporate Kool Aid. And, now, I'm heartbroken because I think I cannot do my job.
I'm not in the same body I was in 2 months ago. It gets tired easily, it doesn't like jumping around too much, and it finds a lot of foods scary. I am still nauseous every day, but at least not every hour of every day. The wooziness that accompanied has more or less entirely subsided (knock on wood). With this transition came a tremendously sad realization. I have a profession that depends not just on my body, but on my health. You can teach from a wheel chair, yes, however not when you think you're going to pass out or vomit.
So, I think, now what? I'm stuck in a different kind of holding pattern. I don't want to let go of the one I love, but I am now seeing that this isn't something I can do forever. Or even right now (at least, not at the level I was before, with so many classes). I applied to four jobs this week, none of which excite me, none of the applications I spent more than 15 minutes on. I talk to my mom, I talk to my nearest and dearest, I say "now what"?
I need a job with sick days; with health care; and, because who knows, maybe one day, maternity leave. The worry over getting subs and taking off two weeks of work entirely unpaid shouldn't have stressed me out. Everyone was kind and understanding and the support of the students was more than I could ever have expected. But I still worried.
Someone I know just emailed me because she quit her job to be a yoga teacher and wants my advice. I don't think I'm a good person to talk to. Let's say being a yoga teacher is like looking for a life partner. It will seduce you with it's loveliness, its kindness, and sense of fun. But (remember we're talking about the profession, not the practice) it isn't there in sickness and in health. If I talked to this energetic, healthy, freshly-minted yoga teacher, I'd probably come off as a old, embittered yoga teacher/Bette Davis/Joan Crawford lusting after the partner who left her in the prime of her youth.
The amount of gratitude I have to every moment I feel better is here (although mixed in with trepidation that the worst of it will come back). Now... tell me what profession to take. It won't be a my whole life, but a joyful part of it. And maybe it's better that way.
(thanks to dara, who reminded me that I am feeling much better, at least enough to sit in front of a computer and knock out something)
Most people I know talk about their job like they are in a holding pattern. They think it's a step to something else, whether a better position or retirement. I've had a position like this and it made me ill. So, I'm in a heartbreaking position now, because I love my job. I love what I actually get money (income!) to do. I love it as a part of me. I drink my own corporate Kool Aid. And, now, I'm heartbroken because I think I cannot do my job.
I'm not in the same body I was in 2 months ago. It gets tired easily, it doesn't like jumping around too much, and it finds a lot of foods scary. I am still nauseous every day, but at least not every hour of every day. The wooziness that accompanied has more or less entirely subsided (knock on wood). With this transition came a tremendously sad realization. I have a profession that depends not just on my body, but on my health. You can teach from a wheel chair, yes, however not when you think you're going to pass out or vomit.
So, I think, now what? I'm stuck in a different kind of holding pattern. I don't want to let go of the one I love, but I am now seeing that this isn't something I can do forever. Or even right now (at least, not at the level I was before, with so many classes). I applied to four jobs this week, none of which excite me, none of the applications I spent more than 15 minutes on. I talk to my mom, I talk to my nearest and dearest, I say "now what"?
I need a job with sick days; with health care; and, because who knows, maybe one day, maternity leave. The worry over getting subs and taking off two weeks of work entirely unpaid shouldn't have stressed me out. Everyone was kind and understanding and the support of the students was more than I could ever have expected. But I still worried.
Someone I know just emailed me because she quit her job to be a yoga teacher and wants my advice. I don't think I'm a good person to talk to. Let's say being a yoga teacher is like looking for a life partner. It will seduce you with it's loveliness, its kindness, and sense of fun. But (remember we're talking about the profession, not the practice) it isn't there in sickness and in health. If I talked to this energetic, healthy, freshly-minted yoga teacher, I'd probably come off as a old, embittered yoga teacher/Bette Davis/Joan Crawford lusting after the partner who left her in the prime of her youth.
The amount of gratitude I have to every moment I feel better is here (although mixed in with trepidation that the worst of it will come back). Now... tell me what profession to take. It won't be a my whole life, but a joyful part of it. And maybe it's better that way.
(thanks to dara, who reminded me that I am feeling much better, at least enough to sit in front of a computer and knock out something)
