When the Work Gets Complicated

I have been thinking about my work differently lately. My current job is fine. Actually, there are parts of it I really enjoy. I am overhauling a literacy program for a rural California county, and that is exactly the kind of work I have always enjoyed. Give me a program, let me research it, pull it apart, figure out what is working and what isn't, and rebuild it. I come alive doing that. Maybe that is why I keep ending up in jobs where something needs to be rebuilt.

The literacy program serves community members, but it also serves people incarcerated in the county jail. I knew that when I took the job. Of course I knew it. But there is a difference between knowing something as part of a job description and sitting down and really looking at the people you are serving. Recently I did that, and I found myself looking not simply at numbers or literacy levels or program participation, but at why some of these people are there.

Domestic violence. Rape. Child abuse. Child sexual abuse.

I know that some are awaiting trial. I believe in innocence until proven guilty, and I do not know their stories or what happened. It certainly is not my responsibility to determine guilt. There are also people incarcerated for entirely different reasons. I know all of that intellectually, but when I actually sat there and looked at some of those charges, something struck a chord that I cannot pretend isn't there. So now I am sitting with that.

I can do this work. I can remain professional, and I can believe deeply in literacy. I have spent my career believing that education matters and that access to learning matters. I don't suddenly stop believing that because someone is sitting in a county jail. But I am beginning to realize that believing work has value does not necessarily mean I have to be the person who does it. That distinction is relatively new for me.

I have spent much of my life believing that if I can do something, perhaps I should. I am capable of doing a lot of things, and I am very good at figuring out how to make something work. That has served me well professionally. It has also made it very easy for me to stay in places because I can make them work rather than asking whether I actually want to remain there.

I don't think I want to remain in this job indefinitely. I have never planned to stay in this position indefinitely. Just long enough to fix what is broken. I had thought spring would be a good time to depart, but now. I think departing sooner is a good idea.

I will keep doing the job, and I will do it well while I am there because that matters to me. But I am looking. I look at opportunities in the eastern Sierra. I look at Bozeman. Of course, that brings me right back to the question I seem to ask every few weeks about where I am supposed to live. I don't have that answer either. What I do know is that I don't want to move into another job that consumes all the space I need for the work I am trying to build.

Everything at juliemlane.com needs room to keep moving forward. Redeem Thyself needs room. 7 Pedals needs room. High Meadow Projects needs room. My writing needs room. The harp needs room. I need time to develop partnerships and write grants and create programming. Those grants also need to begin including stipends for the work I am doing because I cannot indefinitely build all of this around the edges of a full-time job.

I need to earn a living, and there really is no romantic way around that. Bills need to be paid, and lately there seem to be plenty of them. I can believe deeply in the work I am building and still acknowledge that right now it does not completely support me. I don't particularly like that reality, but pretending otherwise isn't going to change it.

So I need work. But I also need work with hours I can control. That narrows things considerably.

Maybe that is good. I keep thinking about Refocused and the realization that just because I can walk down another trail does not mean it is my trail. I think I am finally becoming more specific about what my trail needs to look like. I don't simply need a different job. I need work that supports the larger life I am building rather than becoming the larger life. I don't know exactly what that looks like yet.

I also don't know whether the answer is California or Montana. I don't know how quickly the grants will come together. I don't know when High Meadow Projects will begin generating enough funding to compensate me consistently for the work I am already doing. I don't know whether the next job will be something I expect or something I haven't even considered yet. There are a lot of things I don't know. But I have a pretty good idea of what I want my days to contain.

I want to write. I want to research. I want to arrange music and play my harp. I want to build programs that bring storytelling, creativity, music, and people together. I want to continue creating the work that has been taking shape through Redeem Thyself, 7 Pedals, and High Meadow Projects. I want enough flexibility to follow an idea when it begins becoming something real instead of continually squeezing it into whatever hours remain.

Maybe knowing what I want my days to contain is more useful right now than knowing exactly where I will live or what my next job title will be. I am not entirely convinced of that yet. I would still really like the answers. But maybe it is enough to know what I am looking for while I keep looking.

Have you ever realized that work could be worthwhile and important, but still not be the work you wanted to continue doing?

~ julie

PS: I just settled into my hotel in Bozeman for the next two weeks. More to follow!

If you feel so inclined, please reply with your thoughts.

Note: JM Lane is NOT a mental health professional, nor does she carry a license to practice medicine. Posts, blogs, and content are based on JM Lane’s personal experiences, perceptions, and reflections. By no means does any material convey what others should or should not do.

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