Identity Crisis

I can’t imagine not working. Not just because I need the income, but because I’d be too bored. I want to be out there making a difference. Even if I were independently wealthy, I could only mostly be a dilettante (although I’d be a good dilettante) – I’d still operate my own foundation or something. I need to work, at least part time.

Since I’ve arrived in the Midwest, though, there have been continual challenges to this assumption. It started at the credit union; when we were setting up the accounts, the bank staff asked me for my occupation. And instead of writing either “online communications,” “webmaster”, or “unemployed”, she insisted on categorizing me as “homemaker.” I’ve followed my husband so he can get his graduate degree, and I don’t have a job. So I must be a homemaker.

This was really unsettling. But it continues. Pretty much everyone out here – including women with jobs – assumes that I won’t be working, that I’m just the stay-at-home wife. Is this a Midwestern thing, or a University wife situation? I haven't figured it out yet.

However, it’s not in the cards because at the very least, this isn’t a science degree which would pay Arthur for attending – this is us paying the equivalent of a year’s income for the privilege. So yes, we have savings and family assistance towards tuition, but there’s still these nagging bills like rent and food (and oh boy does the boy eat!).

Yet I keep meeting people surprised that I am looking for work. And then I think well, what was the first room I unpacked – before the movers had even finished unloading the truck? The kitchen. Who had all the yarn and fabric shipped on the moving truck? Me.

Gah! It’s a brief moment of identity crisis. Am I a homemaker? I don’t have a job, I’m working on bulk cooking projects, knitting a sweater for Neffie (said moniker will never be the same after Dinosaurs on a Spaceship!) , managing the laundry, researching and scheduling weekend activities, joining a church bridge group… Maybe there's more to this than I first thought.

But I’m already starting to get antsy. I’m not quite eager to work yet – I could really use some decompression time after the past year post-layoffs – but I’m definitely looking forward to the next opportunity to come along. (Ideally I would start working the beginning of October, but more importantly, would know I have something lined up so that I can truly relax and enjoy the rest of September as a staycation. Not working for a month isn’t restorative if I spend the whole time anxious about not having a job in sight.)

I want the challenge and intellectual stimulation of a new job, and the chance to meet new people and learn new things.

But all of this reflection has made me wonder whether in the future, if we’re living somewhere that’s not Boston or other expensive city, that maybe I should try to work part-time. Take a couple of years where I’m working part-time and volunteering or taking classes part-time. Shake things up for a little while. I enjoy projects. I enjoy volunteering. I enjoy children. It might be nice to dedicate one day a week to volunteering in child care or a family shelter. But still work enough hours to maintain momentum and engagement.

But I think I’ve established that, despite what my file says, I am not yet a homemaker or dilettante. I still want to work. I’m not ready to do more than slow down slightly, and don’t expect to be for a long time.