Do you give it your all, or simply coast?
I cling to structure like there’s no tomorrow, I’ve always done what I thought I was ‘supposed to do,’ and if there is a gold star involved, I climb the necessary heights in order to procure said shiny sticker. Therefore, when I found myself in an unbearable job situation last year, I was afraid of the change that I needed in order to save myself. The state of overwork had become so normalized in my world that I didn’t know life could be different. However, I reached a breaking point and my reality became clear: I needed to leave my job in order to save my mental wellbeing. I worked nonstop for an institution whose value system was jarringly out of alignment with my own value system. Four years of my life were lived in a heightened state of fear and survival mode. I ate my feelings and ignored all of my bodily cues. I ran on exhaustive fumes and did not allow myself to rest, out of fear that I would be fired. I never took sick days and wore that like a badge of honor. My body and spirit had paid an enormous price in order to remain employed. At one point, things were so bad, I had suicidal ideations because I could not see a way out. Toxic relationships, whether they are with people or with places, tend to do that to you. You are tricked into believing that there is no way out-that nothing else outside of this situation could exist, that you could not find yourself in another, more positive relationship; and they like it that way because that is how you stay for so long. And, indeed, I had stayed for too long. But, on a dry, gray day in January, with no set plan, I told my supervisor that I would be leaving at the end of the year.
Giving in my resignation was the most freeing feeling I had felt in a long time. My whole body shook with joy and I came home from my day and wept with optimism. As I basked in the glory of my ability to make an adult decision for myself, I also kicked my cover letter and resume writing process into high gear. The overachiever in me applied to jobs every single day for weeks- expecting a few to stick. Sadly, this was not the reality of applying to jobs in early 2020 (even in the pre-pandemic world). However, I had a friend from high school who was working for an institution in New York City and was planning to take the following year off for a sabbatical. Her position was similar to mine, so this would be an easy, lateral move. I was excited about moving back to New York as we had previously parted ways on bitter terms and my hope was to remedy this. So, the serendipity of this situation could not be denied. Yet, the catch of this job would be that it would only be mine for a year. What a weird feeling. No room for growth, no potential to build or create something that lasts- just a singular year. The pandemic hit, and against the noise from my inner rule-follower, I grabbed the opportunity to try this temporary situation out.
There is a certain degree of awkwardness to beginnings- learning to ride a bike is filled with bruises, cursive looks like a series of squiggles, and my first loaf of sourdough was absolutely inedible. So is the case with a new job. However, the awkwardness of beginning this position was magnified by the reality that I knew my end date. I knew when it would be over and there wasn’t much I could do to change or delay this. This made learning the processes of this institution seem like learning a new language while holding my breath underwater. It took time and I did it, however, it was painful and slightly silly. Investing in new relationships was not a priority as I would only be with these new faces for a short time. Luckily, the nature of the pandemic made my aloofness to my colleagues a more normalized experience because I simply did not see them in person. Forming connections, in general. did not require me to work as hard, and what I saw was that I was still valued and people were interested in what I had to say. This unexpected occurrence made me realize; I had been doing this wrong the whole time prior to my one-year stint. I could do less, interact with people in less invested ways, AND I could still be seen as someone of value to work with. This reality simply blew my mind.
This was, perhaps, the strangest part of holding a position for a year’s time: it relieves the pressure to impress anyone. I didn’t need to show off or prove my worth at every turn because I wasn’t looking to build myself up as an invaluable member of the team. I could go home at the end of the day and just be at home- no extra work, no planning for the rest of the week, no catching up on emails. I used my time during the day to fill in the gaps of these things I had previously reserved for after-work hours. I found myself faced with a totally new paradox- do I do what I had done in the past and give this job my all, or do I allow myself to exist outside of my work and “coast” through the year? I use the word “coast” lightly, as I have never coasted through anything. It’s not who I am. In fact, I am infamous for making every situation more difficult than it needs to be. But, after my previous job, the idea of simply doing less was what coasting meant to me. This concept, then, was not only appealing but therapeutic and necessary.
I worked every day- I did what was asked of me, but I didn’t do more. And my life outside of work, even during the midst of a global pandemic, started to become more full, more aligned, and more me. This job allowed me to remember who I am because the job wasn’t all of me. I used the year to realize that I am a person outside of what I do for a living and this was the best medicine I could have asked for. I can do my job and do it well without having it be my everything. There was an ego-death in this experience as I realized that my perceived specialness of my own abilities was not so special. My sacred millennial duty to think of myself as more than I am was broken. I, like everyone I know, am a replaceable worker. AND, this fact does not make me any less good at my job. In fact, I think it makes me better because I am tending to my humanness and not my workerness. I had never learned this growing up in a pressure-cooker, affluent community. I had never seen it in action with family members or friends. But, being a person outside of how you make money is a real, live possibility. The thing you do that makes you money- which you need to live ( I could go off on capitalistic structures here, but I will save that for later), is not who you are. It’s one slice of the pie, one part, and you are always more whole than a singular piece.
I am tremendously grateful for this year. I recommend working a job for one year in the way that some folks take a gap year before college. The ability to see, in action, that your identity is beyond how you contribute to capitalism is a tremendous gift. I also recognize the privilege that I hold in this situation and acknowledge that not everyone is able to take a one-year job.
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