My palm went to my forehead (my most oft-used emoji) as I told the blood guy I hate that question and presented my rehearsed soundbite to his benign conversation volley as to what I do: I volunteer, we do some remodeling, I help with our hobby farm, we’re working on a cabin, I have five kids. But no matter how many verbs I use to justify my use of time, it comes out a tad pale, vague, and weak, like I’m a pampered housewife with nothing to do but flit from appointments to luncheons. Without a job, business venture, or course of study, anything else feels like fluff when I’m saying it out loud.
Which is so far from how I really feel about my life. While I’ve intentionally tried to remain available these past several years, every fall and January I’m tempted to join the throngs who have gone back to school or started nonprofits or have become professionals to prove that I can be more than just a mom too. Mostly to my girls and daughters-in-law.I declared English as a freshman in college with plans to teach high school. But then I found myself in a family science class, and my whole world lit up; I had no idea there was anything like this. I was converted immediately and knew I wanted to be a marriage/family therapist. It felt completely natural to me, I soaked it all up and, in my glory, changed majors right away. But over the Christmas break my grandparents put a damper on my plans, saying it wasn’t a marketable enough career. As a result, I floundered for over a year trying to find anything else I could love as much. I earned meaningless degrees that I don’t even like to talk about. My formal education feels like a waste, and I’m embarrassed anytime it comes up. Which breaks my heart because there’s precious little I value more than learning and education.
I was told once when I was a teenager that I would have opportunities to counsel others. And so as my kids have left and I’ve been able to take a breath and assess where I want to go next, I assumed it would be time to try school again and finally get the degree I’ve always wanted. But I’m not inclined to make such a major life investment without confirmation. And I’m just not feeling it. In fact, when I lean toward it, when I’ve done the research, when I’ve opened the application, even after talking to the lady on campus, it all kind of fades from my mind within a few days. And when I think about what I would have to give up to do it, my heart aches.
It’s been interesting to watch myself wrestle with this decision as the kids have grown and moved on, leaving me to wonder if I should do something “for real.” It’s been an internal tug of war: the feeling of wanting to contribute both to our family finances and to our community (that surely has need for more counselors) juxtaposed with the feeling that maybe there’s merit in the life I’m already living.
I ran into a friend last year who works as a life coach and when she asked me what I’m doing these days, I shared my wrestle. She told me I was “spinning” and that I needed to make a decision and stick with it for a year.
I thought about that advice and asked myself what I really wanted. Did I want to go back to school? Did I want to start a career or even get a job? Unexpectedly, when I stripped away all the shoulds, I found myself saying no. In my heart, I’m doing exactly what I want to be doing and what feels right to me… not in good/bad-right/wrong sort of way, but in a settled, peaceful, right-for-me kind of way.
The wrestle, I realized, came from being indecisive. I realized I hadn’t been completely committed any time I thought I’d made a decision and that I’d been swinging back and forth, back and forth, for years. My restlessness came from not feeling satisfied with either decision because no matter which one I made I always worried about the other option. I was restless because I felt I wasn’t doing anything substantial here at home and felt pressure to do more. I finally realized I’ve been trying to make myself want to go back to school when my soul really just longs to be home, and that’s when the restlessness and the wrestle calmed.
That sounds lazy as I write it. Hardly anyone has this luxury, and I recognize how fortunate I am to even have the choice. And yet, there are many women who are eager to get back to the workforce or to finish their educations or to move on past the kid stage, who want to do something else with the rest of their lives. I have friends who get a little depressed when they don’t have something concrete to get up for, who get bored or antsy at home, who need the socialization of being out among others, or who can’t wait to do their own thing. While I totally get it, that’s not me.
I was talking with a faraway friend the other day, a two-and-a-half-hour break from our lives. As she was telling me about her social work program, how she’s applying to grad programs, and how she’s living the exact dream I’ve always felt drawn to, I asked her how she knew, what keeps her going. As she described the absolute surety that she’s doing what she’s meant to do, that she can only see herself as a therapist for the second half of her life, that this is her life’s passion, I quizzed myself. I feel none of that.
That helped me realize I’m finally at a point where I feel like trusting myself with this decision. I just read something this morning that warmed my heart and felt like confirmation, “Behold, the Spirit of the Lord has called him another way.”
Because maybe it’s ok that there are some women who can be flexible and who can make the treats and help out at the last minute. Maybe it feels just right to stay home with a sick senior daughter and cancel all the other plans to just watch movies and make soup for her. Maybe it’s nice to be able to paint the house and harvest the garden and clean the windows and make food from scratch and demo the cabin and not have to pay someone else to do it all. Maybe it works out just perfectly to be able to travel to see the grown-up kids and extended family and strengthen relationships with all the family we rarely get to see. Maybe it works better for some families to have someone to take care of the home stuff and who will keep the fires burning. Maybe counseling isn’t always connected with a paycheck or a degree. Maybe it’s a blessing to have the extra time to listen to young friends dealing with difficult issues. Maybe some of us are meant to have traditional jobs and some of us get to work in other ways.
And maybe things will change. Maybe in another year or so I’ll revisit it all and decide it’s the perfect time to do something else. But for today, for now, for the foreseeable future, I feel content and at peace being at home for a little longer.
