A few weeks ago, I began reading On Our Best Behavior: The Seven Deadly Sins and the Price Women Pay to Be Good. And then, as embarrassing as it feels to admit, I gave up reading it. The prose is excellent, the topic timely, and yet it felt like another task on my burgeoning to-do list. The very nature of reading a book promising clarity on women’s desire to be good enough felt like a step on that very journey.
This weekend I graduated from Illinois State University with a Master’s in Business Administration and a Certificate in Organizational Leadership. I completed eight prerequisites and 12 degree-seeking courses in three and a half years, all while working full-time, continuing to volunteer in my community, and being a wife, mother, and friend. Here’s what I learned.
Tonight I attended my online MBA class with Margaret nearby. We begin at the table, listening while decorating birthday cards. “Nana’s turning 60 and Aunt Libby’s turning 1859!” Later we listen from the bathroom (on mute and without video) while Margaret takes a bath. I look around at the bath toys, the floor wet from her splashing, the discarded clothing next to my computer and notebook. Instead of feeling like the hard-working career mom I often aspire to be, it suddenly feels like too much.
When I embarked upon my Leadership Illinois journey, I never imagined that the most poignant message I would come away with would be this: “I am meant for more than laundry.”
Reading 168 Hours: You Have More Time Than You Think has challenged me to think broadly about what I want for my life. I’m currently on a two-week break from work, which has freed up some mental space for dreaming, too.
Have you ever seen a beehive, the kind with glass sides that lets you look in on hundreds of shimmying bodies milling about, each one pressing against another until they become one vibrating mass?
I recently applied for a new job in my division and during one segment of the nearly five-hour interview, someone asked me: “What motivates you to be successful in a job?”
I recently listened to one of my favorite new-ish podcasts, Best of Both Worlds. In one episode, author and speaker Laura Vanderkam talked about re-framing mom guilt by calling it wistfulness. Vanderkam said that instead of feeling guilty when you’re working and subsequently not with your children, you should instead acknowledge the feeling as wistfulness–a feeling of longing for something while also knowing not all ideal situations can exist in the same moment.
I used to worship at the altar of busy. I would flit from one thing to the next, arriving late to each function and meeting, guzzling down so much Diet Coke my body would be humming, my heart skipping every other beat.
I passed on a job today—a fairly lucrative, interior design project. It was unbelievably hard to say no. But as soon as I sent the email, I felt a weight lift off of my chest.