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I noticed several months ago that when someone new or someone we hadn’t seen in a while came around, I was quick to start asking my daughter questions like “Can you tell so-and-so what color that ball is?” or “Should we sing the ABCs for our new friend?” She was not even three years old and I was already challenging her to ace pop quizzes to prove something to me, my friends, or our relatives. No wonder we struggle with burnout as adults when we are pursuing paths dictated by others’ views of success, when we are from a young age constantly feeling as though we need to perform. They say comparison is the thief of joy, but we live in a world where the metrics upon which we are assessed are based on societal norms for what we deem valuable. When every professional is sharing with you milestones for “typical” or “healthy” growth, it’s really challenging to actively avoid comparison, both for ourselves as parents and our children. Instead of letting my incredibly unique child’s aptitudes, characteristics, and personality shine, I was trying to prove to others that she could comprehend, communicate, and physically perform as well as her peers. She is a child! She is filled with wonder. And mischief. And creativity. I’m striving now to let her dazzle and delight me with the unexpected rather than check a box of meeting my (and society’s) preconceived expectations.

I’m thinking about all of this, because my best friend and I were talking just this week about the expectations that are impressed upon us from an early age. We started talking about how we weren’t equipped at 18 years old to select a career path determined by a college major, yet that is what we were led to believe was necessary based on expectations of the adults around us. It starts with questions relating to where you’re going to school. Then, you’re being asked about what you’re majoring in, or what you hope to do when you graduate. After that, it’s do you have a boyfriend or when are you and that boyfriend of yours going to get married? Even when you’re engaged there are almost immediately inquiries about when and where the wedding will be. Have you found your dress? Have you picked your bridesmaids? The list goes on and on. Much like Christmas decorations on the shelf as soon as the Halloween candy is on sale, there is seemingly no time to enjoy a particular season of life because we are forced to focus on the next stepping stone. I recognize that as someone who recently worked in the wedding industry, I did nothing to challenge this norm. Of course we all know questions surrounding children come next.

I am thankfully to a point in life where those around me recognize that my husband and I are happy with one child and for the most part have stopped forcing upon us their wishes for us to have another. However, I am in a season where the expectation of identifying yourself by what you do looms large. I have friends who are full time stay at home parents. I know others who are thriving in the corporate world. I am surrounded by many who are full time entrepreneurs, and those working a “regular” job while pursuing their business dreams in the non-existent spare time that they manifest out of sheer determination. I was feeling quite alone in my lack of a streamlined answer to the often asked question “what do you do?” Like an ambiguous piece of art, it felt as though my life had no interpretation without a job title. Untitled. And alone.

In recent conversations with others, I’ve realized I’m not unique in my feelings or my circumstances. I am finding the sense of being unmoored is prevalent, and I would love to see a shift in how we identify ourselves to strangers. I know that I can’t flip the script as an individual, but if you’re reading this, I challenge you to join me in actively working to redirect the narrative around our identities being solely dependent upon what we do for a living — after all, isn’t it what we do and care about outside of our jobs that will primarily define the way others talk about how we lived once we are gone?

I shared with my book club that I’m feeling very happy with my lack of stress, my level of work/life balance, and my fulfillment with what I’m doing for income along with what I’m doing for my family and with my friends. I said in that conversation that I was feeling less fulfilled than when I had my business, because I feel like I’m in a period of transition and not where I’ll ultimately land, career-wise. Upon reflection, I actually am feeling fulfilled, just struggling with the notion of living up to those ever-present societal norms. Surprise, surprise, I guess I have not yet achieved self-actualization, since so much of my focus revolves around others’ perceptions.

I felt proud to tell others that I was a business owner. I still feel very entrepreneurial in my pursuit of writing, in the way I obtained my current part-time position by basically creating the opening for myself, in my acquiring of the facilitator role for Co.Starters this fall, and in my daydreaming about what’s next. However, I feel as though I can’t currently claim entrepreneur as my job title. Nor does anything else I can think of sum up “what I do.” I’m open to suggestions, as I know I will continue to be asked - please comment with any ideas!

I spend Mondays taking my daughter to swim lessons and gymnastics, making her lunch, and honestly being more present with her than I often am at other times during our busy week of school and work and running home to fix dinner. I work part time as an Executive Assistant for an interior designer. I write this blog. I have spent innumerable hours researching and visiting care facilities, crunching numbers, and talking to my brother and healthcare professionals as we navigate what is best for my mom now and in the future. I of course have other roles like wife, neighbor, and friend that require my time and attention. Like all of us, who I am is not just “what I do.” However, in professional settings, and often even in social ones, this seems to be our ice breaker every. single. time. When I meet someone new, I’m going to start asking instead “What is something you’re excited about?” If it pertains to what they do at work, awesome. If not, it provides me more insight into what this person cares about. As awkward as it may feel at first, are you willing to start asking something other than “what do you do?” when you meet someone new? Tell me in the comments some phrases you have used in the past or would like to try moving forward!