Am I my job? Are you? Oh hell no.
Superficially wondering if one's worth really is determined by what they do for a living, in 2021.
Today, I was thinking about my job. And then I was thinking about my worth.
And then, I was thinking about how the correlation I made between my job and my worth made absolutely no sense.
I believe I can speak for all of us when I say that the last year has been... special, to say the least. It forced me to learn stuff about myself that I perhaps wasn't ready to learn. It made me realize what I valued the most on banal pre-pandemic days, and then what I lost and missed due to the pandemic. It made me quit a job that allowed me to grow, and that assured me a great career path...for a job that would make life seem a bit 'different' than what it had been in the last few months. I then came face to face with the realization that this new job was so far from the person I was, that I abruptly quit. How had I not realized that this wasn't me? Perhaps because my relationship with my job and what it represents is wounded.
So, I am now back to a job I had a few years back. It allows me to live relatively comfortably. It doesn't make me cry in the morning right when I wake up, but it also doesn't make any sense. It seems that within 6 months, I have taken 4 years worth of step back.
But then again, I ask myself, what does that even mean? Why am I stuck with this feeling that I regressed instead of progressed?
Because on paper, I am nothing. I don't own a house. I have student debts, still. My body mass index shows that I am a few pounds overweight. I am technically a real estate assistant when I could definitely have a leading position in a marketing agency by now. My boyfriend has an MBA, owns three condos in the city, is about to launch his small company with his brother.
This is all so superficial, and yet I can't shake it off.
My friends talk about pressuring their employers into getting more money. Into getting promotions. Into buying properties. About mortgage. And here I am, missing the days where there was more to life than this. See, I wish that when people would ask 'what do you do?' we'd all genuinely answer what we do in our free time, what we thrive on. Whatever it may be.
Please, reassure me. Let me know that there is indeed more than this out there. That our worth has nothing to do with the job that we do. That the fact that I chose my mental health over a bigger paycheck doesn't make me any less ambitious. That the fact that I altruistically donate to charities, without even feeling the need to share it on my social media means more than the title I have on LinkedIn. That the strength with which I love makes me a bigger person than most.
And that the fact that I am finally writing, makes me a hell of a person.
See, I always wanted to write. But like for most things in my life, I didn't know where to start, how to do it, what to write about, and I thought that I would never succeed at it. Yet, today, I dive in. I am putting myself out there, because I can. Because I am worth it.
I may be an assistant, but I am one hell of an assistant, and what I will be remembered as, is also, one hell of a writer. Mark. my. words.