Last time I wrote, I was just beginning this journey of getting my Master's degree. I hadn't even begun the program yet. I was all anticipation and enthusiasm. "I feel like there's a bigger purpose to my life now, a future I can
reach out and touch. I face each day with a new energy and excitement," I wrote. And then I disappeared off the grid, leaving the universe wondering what became of me.
I won't even pretend that I'm going to attempt to recap the last two years for you. Who would want to read all that anyhow? In short, going back to school and getting my Master's was everything I dreamed it would be and so so much more. I was successful. I was even brilliant at times. I was liked. I was admired. I presented my papers in front of strangers. I wrote 95 pages dedicated to one 30-page short story that hardly anyone in the world has read, and I triumphantly defended what I wrote before three professionals who have been in the game A LOT longer than I have.
I have honor cords. I have awards. I have connections. I have an amazing letter of recommendation.
I have nothing.
It is over now. I'm graduated. There are no more books to read, no more papers to write. And as far as the job market is concerned, I'm back to being nobody.
Part of me wants to grab a megaphone and stand in the middle of Rosa Parks Circle and shout to anyone who can hear me what a great asset I would be to their company, EVERY company! I saw on the Today Show that employers respond to shameless acts of desperation these days.
If it's anything I learned from my Master's program, it's that I AM a valuable asset to any establishment. And while I'm still not always super confident in my abilities, I at least do my best and try my hardest. One day, I was "working with" a professor's class, when really I was just sitting on the side and listening, when the professor said, "Okay, everyone, now Jenny's gonna lead a discussion and she's gonna pound you with questions about your topic for your final project. Go ahead, Jenny." And I looked at her like a deer in the headlights, my eyes bulging from my head in anxiousness. Then I stood up and pointed to someone, listened to their idea, and then pummeled them with interrogation. At the end of the class, when the students were rushing for the door, I still had the inclination to sheepishly ask, "Did I do okay?" to the professor, and apparently I did more than okay.
My Master's program taught me what I believe is the most valuable lesson I could possibly learn about whatever future career I may have--even if it's scary, I should still give it a try. And when I think about getting a job, whether it be teaching or editing or something completely and utterly new to me, I still get the nervous wrenching in my stomach, yet I know I could handle it. How hard could it possibly be? I've conquered worse and done so for free.
Unfortunately, even if I have luck finding a job (which granted, I haven't been looking super long and hard yet but I've already gotten plenty discouraged), I'm having a difficult time imagining a career path that I would find fulfilling. My thesis adviser is practically mourning the fact that I'm not going on for a PhD, or at least not going RIGHT NOW. I uncovered a literary gem with my thesis paper, we both realize it, and she thinks I could continue to do so for the academic universe if only I kept going with my education. She's not wrong. I know I have the capacity to bring a certain forgotten author back to the forefront because of my love and passion for her writing. And if a PhD program were ONLY about researching the authors that you love, then I wouldn't think twice. But I know it's also about teaching and reading and writing papers on tons of other topics that I might not find nearly as enchanting, and I've already neglected my husband, my house, and my life for two years--I don't think I can or should do it for another four.
Because of that nervous wrenching in my stomach, I'm not sure how well I would flourish in a corporate environment, either, always having to answer to someone, to please someone, to do what I do according to someone else's wishes. I've been there, I've done that. I see my husband continue to do that. It takes a toll on a body and takes years off of lives.
I have an excellent business idea that I've only recently realized is an excellent business idea because I started telling friends about it and they've reinforced it's an excellent idea. But it's also an expensive excellent business idea, and I really haven't made my household any decent money in (well, ever, but especially) the last two years, and I really should make an effort to contribute for a while, what with needing a new roof and a new deck and countless other expensive things. Also, there's the pesky hiccup of a problem in that I know nothing about starting a business.
There's been a lot of controversy recently about women in the workplace, whether they can "have it all" or whether they should "lean in" or whatever. I'll admit, I've been a bad feminist and I haven't paid it the attention I should for the same reason my husband doesn't listen to Glenn Beck anymore--it just makes me too angry, and you can't go through life being angry all the time. I actually addressed the idea of "having it all" in the conclusion of my thesis paper, which focused on Cold War American housewives. They were expected to have it all and do it all, expectations that no human being could live up to. And of course, we're really no better off today. Not only do women have to be successful in the home, but they have to be successful in the workplace. But all this "lean in" nonsense or whatever it is isn't addressing the correct question, and the correct question isn't really an issue of gender at all.
The correct question is--can we be HAPPY in the home and the workplace at the same time? And I'm starting to doubt that anyone can. I worked a job for five years that I hated. I loathed it. I woke up every morning despising the fact that I was waking up to go to this job. And I always pacified myself with the fact that I had found true love and that I had a husband who I could commiserate with at the end of the day. Meanwhile, 40 hours a week or more, I was hating my life. That's a third of my life I was hating. That's a lot of hate.
Now that I know what that was like, I'm terrified that's where I'll end up again. Clearly, a job that I would love and be passionate about will be a hard find, as I expressed above. Sure, hopefully I'll be getting paid better now that I have a better degree, and depending on what I find, I might even be considered successful at it. But if I'm not HAPPY with it... then what?
Of course we all have to make compromises. That's part of being an adult. And with the economic climate still not making a big comeback, one can only ask for so much. Still, why don't we pursue careers like we pursue life partners? Why is passion not part of the equation in a lot of cases? Why do a lot of people settle for jobs because of pay or convenience, when they devote a third of their lives to them? Essentially, we devote the same amount of time to our jobs as we do to our partners if you consider you spend a third of your life sleeping. Why are we not expected to be in love with our jobs like we're in love with our spouses? There are definitely people who devoted their lives to their jobs instead of their spouses or in lieu of finding a spouse. But society doesn't always congratulate their success like it congratulates a newly married couple (even though the longevity of their success might be longer than the average marriage). It really seems like an either/or situation. Either you're in love with and devoted to your job or you're in love with and devoted to your spouse.
Is there a situation where you can have both? Or is a career like a mistress? If you devote too much time and passion to your job, you ultimately are sacrificing time and passion you would otherwise devote to your spouse?
I dream of having it all, of having a husband for whom I have passion (check) and a career for which I feel equally passionate (no check). I hope I'm not dreaming an impossible dream.
