on work and identity

 

   "If our core personality is up for critique, we've truly lost our central anchor. The human craving to be loved for who we are outside of what we do is so primal. It is densely bound with ideas of worth, value, and belonging. We assign great meaning to how much we are accepted, which is, of course, a function of how truly we are actually known." -- Jen Hatmaker, from her book Fierce, Free, and Full of Fire 

At first I guarded my news like a secret, because I winced at the thought of how I would be judged and who would judge me. This last few months have not been easy.  I have stood up and spoken out, and in a family and cultural system where calling others to the carpet for hurtful behavior isn't taken well, we tend to shrink back and tuck ourselves into the box from which we came. But with covid and 5 kids, hard choices had to be made, and the news had to come out. 

Why do we (I... maybe others don't do this) place so much of our worth on what we do/know/study/make? One thing I've been working on is knowing my value just because I exist. I don't have value because my parents approve of my life, or because I studied nursing, or because I am a parent, or because I have certain friends. Although, now that I mention friends... 

My closest of friends, including my husband, helped me to feel so known and seen when I quietly announced my plans to quit my job. Instead of saying "yay! that's great!", every single close friend stated "oh. that is big news and I know that was hard for you. Are you okay?"... to be known is to be loved. 

Those who valued my work more than my being responded with anger and judgment (initially). I've noticed with myself and others that any reaction outside of caring for a person's internal struggle is self-centered. Caring more about a person's role/work in our lives and less about how they are coping means that we aren't centered on another's well being, and are only centered on what that person's actions mean for our own lives. I felt that sting during several circumstances over the past few months, seeing that only what I do for them matters. This sting has and will continue to teach me to decenter myself when someone shares their heart with me, and to really lean into their needs. 

Anyway, I quit my job. For me this was disorienting and heartbreaking. I have always been affiliated with some organization since right after college graduation (and of course jobs during college as well). I worked for an adoption agency both full time and part time until I went back to nursing school. To make extra money to send my husband back to school, I worked at the Y. I always found extra jobs, like working as the secretary for my kids' school board and writing articles for local magazines. When I decided almost 10 years ago to go back to school and be a nurse, it was empowering and life-giving. I loved every second of nursing school, even the terribly hard days of balancing school and parenting. When I landed my dream job in the ER, I chose to quit a year later and take a job as a school nurse for more stability for my son who was going through a hard time- I needed a more traditional schedule. Being a school nurse was not my favorite job- I did not love it, but it loved me. I was good at it. I made a difference. I served many, many people in an underserved community. I earned more mental health education and my national certification. Both ER nursing and then school nursing, being immersed in a completely different culture of employees and yet another different culture (majority) of students and their families completely changed my life. It changed every single perspective life had ever given me. I am a better person for having had my career. 

Covid stripped it away from me, for now. With five kids at home, and choosing to homeschool my most delicate little birds, I simply could not do my job properly. I tried. I fought against the tide of knowing I would need to quit. I pressed on and on and on until the ground beneath me gave way and I gave up. 

What is most important to me? My family and my calling to be a mother and a foster/adoptive mother.  My husband's career pays four times what I was paid. I was gifted with the traditional parenting talents and patience. It makes sense that if one of us was to step down to become the full-time family manager during an unprecedented pandemic, it would be me. This was my choice and my spouse would have supported me either way. But the grief has been deep and thick. 

It is hard to give up something I worked so hard for. And while we try to not allow our work to be our identity, sometimes it just is. I have had to untangle the two, and I believe this emotional work is just as hard and time consuming as becoming a nurse. When we zoom in and look at our priorities, the lives in closest proximity to ours, the little lives God has gifted to us, should take center stage. My countless students and patients needed me for an hour, a school day, or a few years. My kids need me for now and for life, acutely and chronically. This is not to say others cannot successfully work and raise kids. Of course they can, of course I can, of course I did. But for some reason, right now, in my personal circumstances, I can't. 

This has caused me to swallow my pride and simply take the step to stay home. I acknowledge my extreme privilege in having this choice. I have felt guilt and shame. My coworkers who were initially very upset with me probably enjoyed that I felt guilty. After inviting them into my thinking, however, they turned their anger over to compassion and our friendships were restored. While confiding in one supportive colleague, she stated "Becca, there are many who will be jealous of those who find favor in this life. It is your job to ignore the jealousy and embrace the favor you've been shown. Celebrate it." This wisdom was so affirming and uplifting as it pulled me up and out of self-hatred and despair after announcing my resignation. 

So here I am, a continual work in progress. I am proud of my choice and remain heartbroken. I will maintain my license and try to work part-time soon, or maybe I will be led to something else. For now I will be firmly planted in raising my newest little loves to know and see their value and worth. I will remind myself daily that my work here is just as valuable as other work. It may not provide health care or a pay check, but it will provide stability and nurturing to five young lives who need me the most right now. I will learn to accept that and be accepting of this life we've been called to.