When did it become so acceptable for titles and roles to define us? In America, we have become so defined by what we do, who we are married to or who we birthed that it becomes inevitable to get sucked into a vortex of identity confusion at some point in our lives.  Unfortunately, it is often at a time when you most need your self-identity to cope with life transitions and trials that you find yourself in emotional jeopardy.

It’s so easy to do; we are almost programmed to think this way.  There’s certainly a place for this philosophy in guiding teenagers toward pursuing their strengths and interests as they move into adulthood, but the programming starts long before it becomes a planning and logistics tool.  It happens so quickly it almost appears there could be an innate tendency to blur self-identity lines.  We ask children as early as kindergarten “what do you want to be when you grow up?” They answer “policeman” or “ballerina”; some are already thinking of stardom or politics based on the media most prevalent in their homes.  But how often do we hear a child say “happy” or “brave” or “strong”?  Occasionally you’ll still hear one say “like my mom” or “like my dad,” but it’s a rare, and even then, if you try to go deeper into what that means, they will point out the career.

So, it’s not surprising as adults we become more immersed in the quagmire of career-identity confusion.  We begin to focus on the job, the money, the title, until soon thoughts about the job are always on our mind.  We consciously and unconsciously begin to value people and activities based on how they help our career.  Some of us will attempt to maintain a work-life balance, to maintain interests and relationships outside that invisible occupation line, but we often find it a struggle.  Somehow our energy is drained as our time and talent is wasted on anxiety and fears surrounding the job.  We give more to our work and have little left to give to ourselves and those we love.  Our relationships grow stale, we are left feeling empty and our world becomes very narrow. 

Sadly, a similar phenomenon is tied with marriage and parenthood.  When you become a couple, you seek to become “one” as you approach life with a solid front, soaking up the joys and fighting the battles together.  As you strive to become more selfless in giving to and understanding each other, in compromise and adaptation, it is easy to forget your needs and desires, to overlook the individuality that made your connection worthy of uniting in the first place.  Likewise, the nurture and care of children takes primary position and becomes a necessary forefront.  One day you realize you are known only as her mother, or his wife, and you wonder how the fun, interesting person you once were disappeared.

To be single, childless and unemployed is like the trifecta of doom.  Well intentioned people will attempt to guide you back into your rightful place as the fictional-self accepted by your social circle, which in itself becomes a shaming and belittling experience. I can’t tell you how often “helpful” people speak their expectations into my life without any knowledge or understanding of who I am or where I am coming from. 

Just today at the doctor’s office I was instructed on how to “put myself out there to find a mate.”  I have reached my forties.  I’ve been to college, had a successful career, been a part of church groups, experienced speed dating, tried and tested many online dating sites, participated in meet-up interest groups, and volunteered with charities.  I’ve taken art, dance and home improvement classes, joined wine, hiking and French clubs, and I’ve traveled the world, experiencing cultures from the inside and not as a tourist looking in with interest and enthusiasm.  The assumption that I haven’t found a spouse because I’m not out there living is as naive and oblivious as the idea I haven’t found a job because I’m not out there trying and following-up. 

I was asked the question of our lives: what do you do?  But when I answered “enjoy life,” she frowned in confusion. 

“No,” she immediately tried to clarify.  “What do you do for a living?”

“Laugh, love, seek adventure…”

 “You must have a great job.  Where do you work?”

“I’m unemployed.”

She was clearly confused, but it only took a second for her to begin advising on the job search.  Not once did she actually consider talking about how I enjoyed life, or asking what type of adventures I sought. 

The implications are clear:  if you’re not in one of the expected, identifying roles, you have nothing to offer – you’re lost and in need of rescue. 

My nephew has Asperger’s Syndrome. When asked what he wanted to do when he graduated, he responded “study to be a doctor, or sweep.”  This answer resulted in a lot of confusion and even more laughter, yet there’s something very authentic and real about this response.  One answer conformed to social expectations based on what he’d been taught, but the deeper part of him was more simplistic and perhaps more true to the longing in his heart.

“I like to sweep,” he said.  “It’s an easy task and I can think and create while I’m doing it.”

The authentic self is not defined by a job, function or a role.  It is the you that is at your absolute core, the amalgamation of all your skills, talents, wisdom and beliefs.  It is the you that is hungry for expression, but is often muzzled by the expectations and constraints of who you are “supposed” to be and do.

I have existed outside the expected roles for quite some time now.  I admit I have felt lost as I wandered through what felt like an endless wilderness.  I’ve looked for a spouse, sought to have a child and searched for a job with patience and endurance.  I’ve fought the good fight!  Yet, recently I have begun to realize the most difficult part of this journey is dealing with the bias, prejudice and – dare I say – pity from those around me.  I do feel the loss and disappointment, but it has become digestible, freeing even as I’ve been released from the burdens that once were badges of power and position. 

I’ve come to believe the path I’m on is more than just a detour; it is the real journey to me.  I’ve had the unique opportunity to view life from a totally different viewpoint and it’s from that perspective I not only survive the ups and downs, but embrace them as an adventure ride.  I’ve become almost fearless as I now respond “The question isn’t what I do, but what can’t I do?”

If you were stripped of your job and any ability to get another one, of your spouse and your children, who would you be?  Do you know?