I recently wrote up a little “year in review” for the family Christmas card, explaining what the family was up to, and what everyone’s highlights were. As I’m sure many are familiar with, after writing it up, I began to feel the familiar self-doubt that often plagues me when I look at my life.
Surprise. I’m not living the life of my dreams.
When I was growing up, I wanted to be a veterinarian. After that, I decided that I wanted to be an FBI agent. Eventually I settled on wanting to be an Elementary School teacher. Why?
Elementary School teachers have the perfect schedule for raising children, of course - and as a Mormon mom, it was expected that I would do exactly that. I majored in Elementary Education for my first semester of college, and when they eventually stuck me in a first grade classroom, I had to have a major “come to Jesus” with myself. Teaching children math was torture. Dealing with 20+ children at the same time was chaos to my rigid, anxious personality. I had no interest in that kind of chaos. Sure, I liked kids in theory, but no. No, no, no.
After that, I majored in Social Work. Why?
Because I love people. I genuinely love people, am intrigued by the psychology of them, and feel like I have a bit of a gift for understanding the “why”s of human behavior.
I was a social worker for many years. I was accepted into a masters program, but didn’t do it, as my husband needed to go to school. So work I did. I was only ever in love with one of the jobs that I had, though - the one that let me talk to old folks on the regular, and be a friendly face to talk about their hard times with. Even that, though, was stressful.
Eventually I had a second child, and daycare for two kids didn’t win the cost/benefit analysis of having me work outside the home. So I became a stay at home mom. I tried my hand at Olive Garden in the evenings - go breadsticks! But Depression has always been worse for me, in the evenings, so I didn’t do well with evening work. DoorDash worked great, as I could work on the nights Depression wasn’t kicking my butt. I tried cashiering at a grocery store as well, but ran into that same “depression in the evenings” problem again.
Which brought me to uninspired present. In my “year in review” I had written that I am currently in training to be a substitute school bus driver. It’s true! Today, I passed all the written exams to get my drivers permit. I studied, people. I haven’t studied something against my will for a hot second, and it was weird. But I did it. Now I can start training to substitute as a school bus driver in the mornings, so I’m still home when Nathan starts working, to watch the baby. Ultimately, when the baby starts school, I can pick up more and be a full-time driver with my own route. It’s perfect, just like Elementary School Teacher was perfect - same schedule as the kids, summers off, but also great perks of government work - retirements and health insurance.
Today, I told my mom that I was embarrassed.
Younger me would feel very confused to see the me of today. "Just" a bus driver. Sure, I loved Pat, our driver, on bus 239, growing up. (My bus memories are strong.) But I had a 3.9 GPA. I had a full-ride scholarship all through university. I could have been anything. (Except an FBI Agent. Low muscle tone.) I literally could have been anything.
I love history. I could have been an archeologist. I love scriptures. I could have studied theology and been a professor, or a preacher. I love ghost stories. I could have led haunted tours. I could have helped conduct social experiments. I could have been a writer, or an actor, or a chef. I could have done anything.
"I'm so embarrassed." I told my mom. "I'm not dumb. I'm so worried that people are going to read that and just assume that I'm dumb."
I've never lived my dream.
My mom and I talked about the jobs that we could have done - doctor, or lawyer - and the reasons we didn't pursue them. We didn't want people's lives in our hands. We didn't want the schedule, or the stress. We talked about the jobs that we HAVE done, which we loved, and why - department store, cashier, or student librarian.
Why did we love those jobs? They were low-stress jobs. They were done when they were done, for the day, and you didn't take anything home. But best yet? It was so easy to make people happy. These are "easy" jobs, that you could give almost 100% of your attention to making your customer or patron's day better.
"It's a pity that these jobs don't pay." I remarked. "Our society would value these jobs more, if you earned a livable wage doing them." (The physically hardest jobs I've ever worked paid the least. Guaranteed.)
I realized that my embarrassment and concerns were about value. I worried, being a "lowly" bus driver, that I would not be seen as a "valuable" person. I still desire respect. I still hope that I am of value somewhere, and that I am appreciated, and seen as capable. I want my life to make a positive difference.
My recently retired mother admitted to struggling with similar feelings - wanting to be useful and valuable, to the extent that she struggles with taking any number of days to herself, just to sit and enjoy her free time.
"It's that parable of the damn talents!"
The master gave one servant a talent, another five, and another two.
The servant with five earned five more, and the servant with two earned two more. The servant with one had buried it, and had not earned any interest on it.
All my life I've been told not to put my light under a bushel. All my life I've been told not to bury my talents.
But damn the talents! Because this parable is a critique of exploitation.
I let my social work license lapse when we moved to Missouri. I have no intention of becoming licensed again. I don't see myself practicing social work again. Social work was great for a time, because I got to help people.But I'm an easily stressed out person, and my life matters. My life is for ME to enjoy, and that's not easy for me in the high stress atmosphere of social work. (Where you don't even earn decent money to make up for it.) I love helping people feel happier, but I don't like the burden of feeling solely responsible for others' happiness. I enjoy the small moments of comfort.
So what is my dream job? Potentially psychedelic drug treatment administration! Who knows! Maybe the job hasn't been invented yet! But until then, a bus driver can bring some small happiness to the lives of others. If not students, me. Because I should be allowed happiness too. And if a school job makes me available to be with my children when they need supervision, then it is a good job. And "good enough" doesn't get enough credit.
