Auditioning for Worth

On Exhaustion, Becoming and Refusing to Explain a Life That's Already Full

I’m exhausted.

Last week my daughter had surgery and I stayed with her in the hospital the entire time. The hospital was full and she was given an overflow room in the Maternity Ward. The sleeping options included a rock hard couch and an unsteady reclining chair. I saw humor in this thinking about the many new fathers who experienced these sleeping arrangements. The beginning of many sleepless nights. Which I understand. As a mother, I feel as if I haven’t slept in 29 years myself.

So, with very little quality sleep last week, not to mention being on an emotional rollercoaster for several months, I went into this week needing to take my mom to a different hospital for her surgery. At least the accommodations were slightly better and the reclining chair, though not perfect, was a step above the previous one.

In between these two major events I fit in a small social gathering where someone new asked me, “So, Michelle, what do you do?”

It’s a normal, socially acceptable conversation starter. Which for me, instills panic when I receive it.

I immediately thought a thousand thoughts in the space of twenty seconds.

Do I answer simply, ‘unemployed’? Or do I give the long, yet honest, answer in the same stream of consciousness that runs through my mind on a daily basis, which I hesitantly share below:

I practiced law full-time for twenty years when I burned out and, to save my own life, I burnt it all down and became an entrepreneur and built a bakery with online nationwide shipping (which is a lot harder than practicing law, but don’t tell the lawyers), and did that for a decade, then closed the bakery after a pandemic totally depleted me in more ways than one, and I turned my focus on healing from double pneumonia covid that scarred my lungs, insulted my vascular system, and activated an inherited autoimmune condition (psoriatic arthritis), which resulted in me completely revamping my lifestyle. Then I tried to find a job (but who wants to hire a 50ish lawyer with an employment gap because baking doesn’t really count as a job, as my former partner mocked me once) so I started a podcast talking about food and things I learned about healing while spending a year researching a new business idea, and I discovered a love for bread baking and expanding my kitchen garden, and was about to launch the facial products I had developed for my own inflamed skin post removal of invasive squamous cell carcinoma on my eyelid, but was derailed completely this year by my daughter’s sudden declining health. I then turned all of my energy into healing her by engrossing myself in all things Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome, and Mast Cell Activation Syndrome, then had a summer dealing with my own psoriatic arthritis flare so I had to become my own PsA expert to heal myself. Eventually I decided that instead of finding a job or starting a business maybe this all was a sign from the universe that I should follow my childhood dream and start writing, which is what I am doing currently.

Phew, big breath. Sometimes I even exhaust myself.

But I searched through the files and tried to choose an appropriate response.

My thoughts turned to Mona Lisa Vito in My Cousin Vinny when the prosecution questioned her to learn her expertise in being a witness in automobiles:

“Ms. Vito, what’s your current profession?”

“I’m an out-of-work-hairdresser”

“Out-of-work hairdresser. Now in what way does that qualify you as an expert in automobiles?”

“It doesn’t.”

“Well in what way are you qualified?”

The entire time, the smug prosecutor thinks he has her pegged until she rattles off her experience as a mechanic and her knowledge of cars. I love that scene.

Moreover, that’s how I feel most of the time—like I am auditioning for worth.

Half the people like to hear “lawyer” and the other half love “baker". But both describe the things I have done in my colorful life, not who I have become.

I could say, “I am a writer and poet who likes to cook, bake, garden, research, make my own skincare and homemade remedies, go for long walks, take care of my numerous animals, including the backyard wildlife, dance in my kitchen, drink coffee, research and focus on healing.”

I feel that what I like describes me so much better than what I do or have done for work.

But I think my questioner actually meant: “what do you do for a job that pays you money?”

So, I carefully select, “I write a newsletter on Substack (because thankfully people have subscribed allowing me to call this my career) and I take care of my family (because that perhaps appeases any notion that I should “work” full time and if I don’t, there’s something wrong with me).

A profoundly American response.

I might have points deducted for the “taking care of my family” part amongst a group of women who all work full-time, but I gave the appearance I do something for money (even if my Substack is still new), so there’s that. Unfortunately, I have learned that our value as a person in America is inherently tied to our income level. You can be the smartest person in the world, but if you’re not doing something that exchanges that knowledge for money, who even are you?

For someone who decided to burn it all down, I think differently.

I see the value in simply being ourselves. In becoming. It’s a lifelong process to become someone. The person we start out as, is not the person we are now, nor who we will be down the road.

Obviously, we need a way to pay the bills. Those of us who burned it all down to become something different know this all too well.

Since I am thinking about movies today, I remember the scene in Pulp Fiction when Vincent is appalled by Jules stating he wants to stop working so he can walk the earth:

“What chu mean ‘walk the earth’?”

“You know, like Caine from Kung Fu, walk from place to place, meet people, get in adventures.

“And how long do you intend to walk the earth?”

“Until God puts me where he wants me to be.”

“And what if he don’t do that?”

“If it takes forever, then I’ll walk forever.”

“So you decided to be a bum?”

“I’ll just be Jules, Vincent, no more, no less.”

“No Jules, you decided to be a bum. . . . . . .without a job, a residence or legal tender, that’s what you’re going to be man. . .”

If I felt that my value was tied to the amount of money I made, then I would never have walked away from a successful legal career. Let me tell you, it’s taken a long time to convince myself of this truth. It’s very freeing to realize I wasn’t born to be identified by a job title or a degree. In fact, less is more.

To find who I am, I had to peel back the layers. Some call this “burning it all down”. Another term is “becoming”.

Like Jules, I’ve decided to walk through life until God puts me where he wants me to be. Right now, that’s here talking to you. I couldn’t have known how long this process would take, but at least it’s led me to a lot of interesting adventures.

You may read through my stream of consciousness above and think I am crazy. That’s ok—there are days I definitely do feel crazy. But I simply refuse to play by the rules and justify a life that’s already full.

Or perhaps you read it and identify. Perhaps you’ve felt the same tug of panic when trying to answer the question, “what do you do?”, even if you like what you do for a job. Because something like the thing we do for money could never fully describe who we are.

I’ve liked my jobs too, until it was time to continue becoming. That’s what some people don’t understand. They think that when you’ve earned a degree or start a job, the becoming has stopped. But, it never ends. It will continue until our last breath.

In any event, last night, after a long week of hospital life, I came home starving. Because God forbid the hospital cafeteria should remain open to feed hungry family members who stay to nurse their loved ones.

I never eat late. Nor do I eat much ultra-processed foods nowadays. But I decided to nourish my soul and broke both rules. I covered some Weetabix in chocolate for a quick meal. Yes, it’s a TikTok trend, but after days of seeing it pop up on my feed while trapped in a hospital room, I was longing to try it.

So for the first time in many years, I ate a midnight snack, and I lived to tell about it. I sat dipping my Weetabix in my homemade nut milk and enjoyed a moment of peaceful silence while ensconced in a comfortable chair with a pillow behind my back. I stroked and soothed my dogs with some much needed affection, as a cat climbed into my lap.

This was a moment of not having to prove anything to anyone. Just a simple exhale.

Warmly,

Michelle

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I’ve been drinking nut milk for longer than it’s been popular. Twenty-nine years ago when pregnant with my first baby I developed an aversion to dairy milk, that accompanied stomach issues. So, I turned to nut milk and haven’t looked back. With the rising costs of most items, it saves money to make my own. But also, it’s healthier. Homemade nut milk requires little except a cup of nuts and some water.

It also fits into an anti-inflammatory diet perfectly. Moreover, you can love both nut milk and dairy milk, nothing bad will happen.

I typically double the recipe and use 1 1/2 C raw almonds and 1/2 C raw cashews. It delivers a creamy balance.

Homemade Nut Milk, lightly sweetened

Ingredients:

1 C nuts of choice (use unroasted, raw nuts)

3 C filtered water

1 date

1 t vanilla bean paste or vanilla extract

Instructions:

1. Soak nuts in a bowl filled with water for one hour to overnight.

2. Strain nuts and place in blender with remaining ingredients.

3. Blend until smooth.

4. Using a nut bag or cheesecloth, strain contents of blender. Refrigerate.

Enjoy!