What do you do?
In new groups of people the initial small talk usually includes the question, "What do you do?"
I'm over sixty, and I still don't know how to answer that question.
When the kids were still home it was easier, especially while we were foster parenting and home schooling. I had justification for the space I occupy on the earth, because I was doing something recognizable.
The last few times I've been asked that question, I've said my job is to do what's left. I have the freedom to be able to drop what I'm doing to meet needs. I care for grandchildren a little bit. I run errands for the farm sometimes. I'm the one who gets called if there are questions about my mom's care or her schedule. I'm the primary person in charge of meals, cleaning, laundry, financial record keeping, hospitality, and yard work
I don't have a job description.
This gives me freedom and guilt.
Freedom to work in coffee or lunch with a friend now and then. Freedom to shift my schedule to quickly accompany someone in crisis. Freedom to do some writing, check emails, facebook, solitaire, garden, mow, pick flowers, take a walk, do the laundry. Freedom to respond to an urgent need. Freedom to do research, or listen to podcasts while I work.
And guilt. No matter what I choose, I'm aware of what I didn't choose.
One month I substituted at a school working as a paraprofessional. What was the most eye opening was that on the occasional days when the teacher I was assigned to did not have a task for me or a child who could leave the class activity to get extra help, there would be nothing for me to do. I'd try to find work if I could, but if the teacher had no cutting or collating or anything else I could help with, sometimes I just sat.
And did not feel guilty. Because I was 'at work', and getting paid for my availability as well as my effort.
I wonder sometimes if I did less but got paid for it by someone else, whether I would feel more like I was working.
I wonder if it would be possible to structure my work as though someone else was my boss, laying out my tasks for me, and if that would change how it feels?
When I looked for an image to add to this blog post, I also found this one:
When the kids were still home it was easier, especially while we were foster parenting and home schooling. I had justification for the space I occupy on the earth, because I was doing something recognizable.
The last few times I've been asked that question, I've said my job is to do what's left. I have the freedom to be able to drop what I'm doing to meet needs. I care for grandchildren a little bit. I run errands for the farm sometimes. I'm the one who gets called if there are questions about my mom's care or her schedule. I'm the primary person in charge of meals, cleaning, laundry, financial record keeping, hospitality, and yard work
I don't have a job description.
This gives me freedom and guilt.
Freedom to work in coffee or lunch with a friend now and then. Freedom to shift my schedule to quickly accompany someone in crisis. Freedom to do some writing, check emails, facebook, solitaire, garden, mow, pick flowers, take a walk, do the laundry. Freedom to respond to an urgent need. Freedom to do research, or listen to podcasts while I work.
And guilt. No matter what I choose, I'm aware of what I didn't choose.
One month I substituted at a school working as a paraprofessional. What was the most eye opening was that on the occasional days when the teacher I was assigned to did not have a task for me or a child who could leave the class activity to get extra help, there would be nothing for me to do. I'd try to find work if I could, but if the teacher had no cutting or collating or anything else I could help with, sometimes I just sat.
And did not feel guilty. Because I was 'at work', and getting paid for my availability as well as my effort.
I wonder sometimes if I did less but got paid for it by someone else, whether I would feel more like I was working.
I wonder if it would be possible to structure my work as though someone else was my boss, laying out my tasks for me, and if that would change how it feels?
When I looked for an image to add to this blog post, I also found this one:
Is the inverse also true?
Does my lack of title or "job" define me? Do I define myself by that lack?
There was also this one:
What a question!
It could produce both guilt and satisfaction, depending on how one chooses to answer it. Honesty would likely give reason for a little of both for most of us.
Some people formulate a mission statement
Maybe I'll put that on my to do list.
And I'll use this question from one of my favorite poets to help me with the thought process.
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