After three months of "sabbatical" (aka, unemployment), I'm back at work. And it feels so good. I feel like a whole person once again. Now, the fact that work makes me feel like a 'whole person, as if being a wife and mother - and person - isn't enough, can be debated, good, bad, otherwise. But if I learned anything in three months of contemplating my work life, my professional self, and the meaning of work, it's that it's all very personal. Notions of "fulfillment" and "purpose" are as individual as people are. We each measure contentment in our own way. In the end, what really matters is that, however you measure it, each of us has lived a full life and done our best. We don't have to be the best, just the best that we can be.
Some would say that I'm "driven." I always thought it was a compliment, but then again, maybe not. There is a prayer that Jews say at Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, that includes a recitation in anticipation of the many unknowns of the impending year: "...Who shall live and who shall die; who shall be at peace and who shall be driven. " 'Driven," like 'ambition,' is a curse if not managed properly. To be driven is to navigate the fine line between blind ambition and living up to one's potential. To be driven means never saying 'no' to more responsibility. It means always striving for a new business card with a title of the next little box on the organizational chart. How could anyone not want to do more, be more, earn more.? Why would anyone be content with anything else?
My life, like many other dedicated working women's, was defined by quantity, rather than quality. Do more. Be more. And, like many working women, I can trace this attitude to my childhood. I'm no psychologist, but I tend to think that my driven nature is rooted in the fact that I was never allowed to sleep in on weekends as a kid. Sleeping in was for 'lazy' people. To this day, I don't own a bathrobe because the notion of owning a piece of clothing intended to be worn for lounging around the house seems incongruent with, say, being awake.
I'm beginning to understand. At the organization where I now work, I am greeted each day a lovely woman at the receptionist desk. Of all the faces and names that I encountered in my first few days at the new job, I remembered hers, not only because she's the one who tipped me off to 'free coffee Mondays' in the cafeteria, but because I was struck by her cheerful, helpful nature. She genuinely enjoys her job and she's good at it. I, on the other hand, would never make it as a receptionist. Sometimes I just want to close my office door and bury myself in work, without seeing a soul. I admire her. She's always bright-eyed, smiling, ready to help. And then I remembered the receptionist at my old workplace. He had been there for many, many years. Everyone knew his name, and even visitors who met him only once would remark about his caring and his service. He, too, was good at his job . He received the University's coveted staff appreciation award at least once and though I don't know it for a fact, I would bet that he's nominated every year.
My three months of sabbatical were a gift that I never wanted. The time allowed me to step back and reassess my goals and my needs. I had been so busy being driven for so many years that I never stopped to think about the right job in the right environment that was right for me. It's easy to get swept away by societal expectations of career and success. And even as we approach 2013, make no mistake about it - the pressure for women to prove themselves in the workplace - to others and to themselves -is greater than ever. It's the irony of the legacy of the women's movement: the more we gain, the more there is to gain, or so it seems. My point? Well, I'm sure I had one when I began writing this blog, but for now, it will have to be enough just to have written it.