In the first “You’re more than your work” post, I discuss my goal of this series: to share perspectives on work life identity. Our work life identity affects both our well-being and how we value ourselves—thus deeply affecting who we are when we’re around others. This perspective is different for everyone, and the first perspective in this series is my own. It’s shaped by an amalgamation of factors, so I’ll start here:

I grew up in a turbulent decade

I grew up in a New York City commuter town during the nineties and then the 2000s, a decade that was monumental for a few reasons. First, 9/11, second, the 2008 recession. I watched from a sheltered place as my parents and my friends’ parents—my role models—were passengers on a rollercoaster that should have been put out of service. They rose to success early in their careers, and then quickly fell into fear and grief after their beloved city was attacked on September 11, 2001. They rose up again, only to get knocked back down by the recession. Though they did everything they could to rebuild their careers from those ashes, family relationships were in a constant state of repair, and many didn’t mend back to their original state. Observing this, my 16-year old self thought, “What is valuable? And do you only bring value to your family if you have a good salary?” 

Of course, I know it was always more complicated than that. However, in retrospect it seemed that many were defined by their careers, and no one was equipped to remove that piece of their identity so abruptly. Yet, what surfaced from this scarcity was resilience and a “can do” attitude to figure it out. It inspired me—people did what was needed for their families. They changed industries, they made arrangements to save for the short-term, and ultimately, they shielded their children as best they could from feeling this pain.

I’m resilient

I had an urge to imitate this resilience as I entered college and planned for my impending adulthood. My identity as the “resilient one” to my family, coaches, and friends propelled me into my young adult years—and it took many more years to learn how to make space for any other identity than this one.

Five years after the recession ended, I was a senior in college, setting off on the job hunt. I was hunting, in every sense of the word: pressing ‘Refresh’ hundreds of times a day on my university’s career site, combing through job boards, and forging connections via email and phone calls in the industries I thought were my destiny. I had picked a liberal arts degree that piqued my curiosity, felt relevant to my goals, yet was marketable. It shouldn’t be so tricky to find a job I want, right?

When I found the company that wanted me too (read: it was the only company that I made it from phone interview to in-person interview to an offer), I was joyous. I had a job! My family was supportive and relieved. Yet, I still found myself comparing myself to friends and classmates who seemed to have found their dream jobs, while simultaneously assuring myself that this was just a “first job.” I’d learn from it, I’d grow from it, and I’d learn what I liked and didn’t like. 

This was all very true.

I’m amiable

When I started my job in the July after I graduated, I jumped in with everything I had. I didn’t look back, or up, from my desk in midtown Manhattan for almost four years. I identified wholeheartedly with the person I was from Monday to Friday, 8am to 8pm. I’d order dinner for my team to justify working through the NYC summer sunsets and gloomy winter nights. In reality, we were there late because we were on a deadline and trying to please our clients. The accomplishment of goals as a team is my motivator. Must be my athlete self speaking. I made myself available to my team, striving to exceed expectations and encourage others to do the same. According to a work social style assessment I took, I’m an amiable driver. I can deliver results when those around me feel empowered and like they are doing their best work—and I did everything I could to ensure this happened. I still do.

I’m a millennial

If you’re a millennial or gen Zer, you’ve grown up in the age of “workism.” Derek Johnson defines workism as the notion that anything short of a vocational soulmate is essentially a wasted career. The research says we were raised and optimized to work all the time and to be quicker than the generation before us—while balancing it all.* 

The idea of “workism” resonates with my understanding of my work life identity. Since entering the workforce after the 2008 recession, I have continuously self-identified by my loudest asset, the resume bullet point that gets the most attention: my current job. Could it be my side hustle, my social life, my hobbies, or all of the above? In theory, of course, but, ultimately, this type of blended identity felt unattainable because of the immense professional pressure I placed on myself. It took some time, but I was able to recognize that this wasn’t serving me. I had to find a way to build confidence in who I was outside of my 60-hour work week.

I like to be “productive”

I’m an offender of speaking about productivity in any part of my life, and this level of “busyness” can often freak people out. It’s something that our generation is criticized for. But hey, it works for me. I love the satisfaction of following through on “to do’s.” Let me tell you why. 

I want to note two things. First, I know that my reality today is different than what life may look like when I have my own family and the accompanying commitments in a few years. I don’t want to feel ashamed of my desire to “get to” the various project, ideas, and conversations that energize me today. I’ve found joy in creating and connecting, and will continue to monitor how being “productive” makes me feel. As a woman, I have a choice right now to choose—to choose working on the things that serve me, to choose focusing on my own growth and my “side projects.” I’m finding my creativity and it feels good to move forward with it. Second, I’m very careful about being patient with myself because I never get to everything I want to do. I frequently need to cross-check my inner dialogue so that I don’t feel shame or disappointment. I also try to celebrate, since my feelings of fulfillment make me better in my relationships.

“It’s okay to not be productive today, Emily,” a good friend of mine says as we FaceTime one weekend. She currently lives in Amsterdam and we’ve known each other for 10 years. She’s a sounding board for me and we share a common love of activities. She just completed her masters and started a job at a cool fintech company, so safe to say she’s incredibly bright and busy. She’s always been excellent at balancing her leisure time and her work, even when she lived in NYC.

We’re catching up and I casually lob the question to her about how I should spend my day. I have a to do list per usual, sitting on pretty notepad paper in front of me. Mind you, this list includes “work” work, “fun” work, emailing, reading an article, cooking a recipe, sending someone a letter, buying something online…the list keeps me sane and productive! She reminds me of my tendency toward productivity. She’s telling me this because she cares about my sanity. Plus, the European way of life has designed a narrative that leisure is always a deserved reward when you’re not working your 9-5, and she knows I don’t subscribe to this right now. I appreciate everything she has to say, but how do I apply it in my own life?! 

Routine, routine, routine

Right now, I love my routine. And to be clear, I need my routine. It makes me happy to maximize my time to make more space for absorbing and applying information information. I like to improve my understanding of myself and the world I contribute to. And it works for me. Sometimes my productivity is to please others, but most of the time it’s to fuel my own interest in different topics that apply to my work life and personal life. After all, I’m a career coach! I’ve found a balance where my work life and personal life identity overlap in a way that makes sense for me. 

The reality of being a young professional is that what we’re seeking is a moving target: that perfect balance of our work and life. There’s a tension between being and doing. For me, the other side of the balance is a good book, podcast, or playlist. I’m also working on restoring through the concept of silence: a silent walk or a silent few minutes to begin my morning and get clarity from the noise. Solitude is really powerful, and I’m slowly learning that.

We’re all students

My early experiences in the workplace serve as the foundation for my understanding of my developing identity and how I react to emotional stress. We’re all students of our own psyche, learning how we react in new situations—especially our new COVID-19 reality. This perspective reminds me to be more accommodating, more forgiving, and a little more human during this time to my co-workers and my community. Work life has never been seen through a more collective lens. 

Many of us will enter or re-enter the workforce during the recovery period from COVID-19. And I feel more aware, more in control. History won’t repeat itself for me and I hope my learnings make it more normal for you to feel confident about the path to discovery about your work life identity. Here are some questions I’m asking myself:

How has my experience with work life identity set me up for the moment we are in right now? How does my resilience help me? 

How does my “productivity” add stress or disappointment ? How does that feeling of satisfaction lift me up?

How might COVID-19 be different for millennials? 

What does supporting a team and being amiable look like?

As we are forced to live in a level of fear that many of us haven’t experienced in some time, if ever in our lives, and pursue ways to feel “normal,” we may actualize our new identities. We may ride the rollercoaster back to the top, all while sheltering in place. And it’s okay to be worried about your identity along with your health. Stop apologizing about your situation, and how you're handling the work or job search. Begin to think about how you can carry these new lessons forward when this crisis subsides. How can patience and resilience come through in your life? Allow yourself the room to be hopeful for the future and recognize the good moments.

*For more details on this, Ezra Klein has a fantastic podcast where he interviews Derek Thompson, aforementioned The Atlantic writer, and author Anne Helen Petersen on millennial burnout. This podcast by Adam Grant is also insightful on feelings of burnout.