Identity Without Work

Questions on value, worth and meaning.

Ten years ago, I went through a difficult time; the worst I’ve experienced in my adult life. I was in my mid-twenties and enjoying myself while doing just enough to be ordinary. This suddenly felt like a crisis. I was beginning to think about myself as an adult and felt I’d outgrown the ‘when I grow up…’ qualifier. I was raised with enough advantages and positive reinforcement to believe extraordinary things were expected of me. Actually, I expected they would just happen for me and I had grown impatient. I remember suddenly finding myself socially awkward and uncomfortable. I didn’t want to talk about what I did because it felt like a conversation about who I was, and it wasn’t me. What we do is never a complete story of who we are but with so much of our lives wrapped up in work, it’s hard when they feel at odds.

What do you do? The question, or the prospect of being asked it at a party filled me with fear. It became an anxiety and I struggled to sleep or properly relax for months. It felt like more than a question of how I spend my time; like who are my tribe; what is my value and my influence? Ironically, the only place I felt comfortable was at work, which I quite enjoyed. Eventually, I got another job running tours through Eastern Europe and later started my own business. Suddenly, that same question was one I relished. I felt interesting; I had plenty of good stories and felt comfortable with the story I was telling about myself. I imagined it was something like this:

I am enterprising, creative and resourceful. I have taken risks, some of which have come off. I spend my time with interesting people doing enjoyable things which I love. I am responsible for other people and their livelihoods. I am successful, financially secure and I answer to no one.

I felt more comfortable socially and more confident in my worth. This morning, scribbling in my journal I wrote a handful of these little stories for different careers and found it interesting. What is a carpenter? What is a lawyer, a doctor, a teacher? What story do you think you’re telling people about yourself when you talk about what you do?

And how do you talk about it? Are you passionate? Self-deprecating? There’s as much in the delivery.

It feels natural and intuitive to me to define people, at least in part, by what they do. Most of us spend a lot of time doing it and have often had some choice in what it is. Not everyone of course, and not for long. Just fifty years ago in most of the world, being blue- or white-collar was mostly a birthright and a hundred years ago it was not uncommon for surnames to match professions; they were hereditary. Fortunately, and more complexly, many of us have greater flexibility these days. Many of us have jobs that didn’t exist a generation ago and culturally, at least in much of the West, we promote individuality and exceptionalism over duty and community. Parents seek to afford their kids opportunities: choices they never had. It always felt like pressure, my parents broadcasting my successes and worse, my half-baked ambitions for success. These too, become stories we tell about ourselves:

I am a dedicated and capable parent. I have afforded my kids opportunities through work and sacrifice, care and attention. I am proud and supportive and see their success as an extension of my own; my legacy.

I’m curious about work as identity because it seems coercive; a part of the social contract that ensures we remain useful and productive to the community by equating who we are in the community with what we do for it. I wanted to write about it this week to explore whether I was comfortable with that, and broadly, I believe I am. But it’s problematic; it was for me a decade ago and it is for me now because the world changed suddenly a year ago and my work disappeared. It’s problematic for my parents, who retired recently and are struggling to understand who they are without work and with adult children. It’s problematic for the millions of people without sufficient opportunity, access or advantage who feel unable to express the full richness of their internal value. And equally, for the many for whom the reverse is true, whose standing and influence exceeds what is reasonable for any one of 7 billion anythings.

I was chatting to both my parents separately, loosely about this in the last week. They’ve always worked and been very active parents. They have found it difficult to adjust to this strange after-life and part of the challenge is an issue of purpose, and of identity. Their concerns aren’t financial; they’ve put money away over fifty years of work, invested well and been lucky more than they have been unlucky. Like many fortunate people today, we live in a place where assets mostly appreciate. By spending less than you make for long enough, investing it and allowing the gains to compound, eventually, the gains start making more than you need to spend all on their own. And one day, perhaps, your money can make more than you can in the same amount of time. Of course, there are billions of people in the world for whom that is unimaginable, and also, a growing cohort for whom it is reality.

So Dad and I were chatting about investments. We speak about these often. We enjoy having a shared interest and something to connect on. For him, the research is a way to stay sharp and relevant — to feel involved in the economy. He’d likely perform as well in a few good funds, adjusting for the time he invests, which we discussed. My parents would have more than enough to live on but “…what would I do with my time.” And more than time, from where would he derive meaning, his sense of value and identity. What would he and I speak about?

My mum and I spoke about life without travel. The research and planning, the anticipation, the experiences and the reminiscing in them. Both of us have a bit of our identity wrapped up in travel. We use stories about the way we spend our time and our money to construct identity.

We’re adventurous and curious. We go beyond our comfort zone to challenge ourselves and to learn. We’re gracious guests and responsible travellers. We believe experiences are more valuable than things…

…except, when they are hard to come by, then we switch to consumer goods and home renovations to express our taste and our character.

It feels like the perfect recipe for a crisis of identity. That’s certainly been the hardest thing for me since COVID. Unlike in my twenties, I feel more confident in my worth and that I have less to prove. I have better support, and some savings… and a lot of hobbies. I’ve been forced to derive meaning, worth and identity from pursuits that are disconnected from my career and my income. The income part is frustrating both because money is helpful for buying things and a very tangible validation of my value to others. I’ve sought this in writing and other creative pursuits, reading and learning, trying to be a good partner, son, brother, friend and dog dad.

I don’t have a grand insight to finish on, I’m just processing in public. I’d love to hear about your experiences if this has resonated in some way.

Originally published at https://danielplatt.substack.com on August 11, 2021.