Four Little Words That Try to Define So Many of Us: What Do You Do?

What Do You Do? This may often be one of the first questions you are asked – or the first question that you ask of someone? It’s a conversation starter and a polite “break the ice” introduction. Heaven forbid you walk away from that chat without knowing “what they do” –  it can almost feel as if you’re missing some pertinent information about this individual you just met. But, in reality, are you?

I recently had a story published titled, Putting My Next Step Forward, where I spoke about my career transitions over the years. The point being, I’m not exactly where I envisioned I’d be at this point in my life. In actuality, that’s a very good thing. I promise. It caused a spark in my mind, though about that inquiry of, “What Do You Do?” One of the littlest questions out there, asked in all innocence, but yet, such a large query in some respects.  

About 10 years ago, I left the field of Human Resources, which made me question everything I knew. If I’m not an HR professional, who am I? Well, the first thing I came to terms with was that I am NOT just my job. And neither are you.

Tell Me About Yourself

I get it – our jobs are a big part of who we are. And some careers certainly define us as people – like doctors and teachers – and explain why we make some decisions. The majority of us though? Most likely, we are not in that category – even if we think we are.  

How much can you say about yourself before speaking about your job? Is your job really the most interesting piece of who you are? Is your job what makes you “you“?

Start with the easy, obvious stuff. I’m a 49-year-old Jewish woman, a mother of two (a teenager and a tween), and a wife of one, who is my high school sweetheart. I’m a daughter, an older sister, a niece, and a cousin. I’m a sister-in-law and an aunt to three nieces and two nephews. I’m a daughter-in-law – maybe not always a good one – but I am one. I’m born and raised in New York. I currently live in Northern Westchester, but I grew up in the Bronx. I’m pretty proud of that – some may say too much so.  

Even though I’m from the Bronx, I’m a New York Mets fan, and I’m outnumbered 3 to 1 in my house. I love baseball – watching it, that is. Definitely not playing because I’m a terrible athlete. I greatly admire those who have that athletic ability. That said, I do have to work exercise back into my life. I had been a steady gym-goer for a few years but quickly fell out of the routine as I explored other areas of interest.

Sometimes it still floors me to say this, but I am a writer. Writing, language arts, English, or whatever it was called in school, was not my strong point. My 9th grade teacher told me so. Deep in me though, I always wanted to explore the medium, but I held back until I was in my mid-40s. Even though I never forgot those words that my 14-year-old self was told, I gave it a shot and met a curator who believed in me. I’ve had over 50 articles published and contributed to a collaboration book about maternal mental health.

I’m a proud survivor of a perinatal mood and anxiety disorder, more specifically Postpartum Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. That was many moons ago, but it’s become a huge part of me. I’m part of an amazing community of what we call “Warrior Moms” and created a bond that only those in the club can understand. To that – there was a time when I didn’t think I’d survive. It was before the social media days, and I felt completely alone. Many of us Warrior Moms vow that a day will come when no other mother will suffer in silence.

The demographics tell me that I’m a Gen-Xer. As I was a teenager in the 80s, that decade has my heart. I love the music, the movies, and I came “this” close to buying myself these Reebok Freestyle Hi-Tops a few weeks ago. I didn’t, but I am a self-proclaimed shoe whore. My shoe purchases don’t consist of many expensive shoes. I lean towards the lower price tags so that I can buy many pairs. I also like shoes because, for the most part, your shoe size is your shoe size. You don’t need to worry about fluctuating sizes because you gained weight in your feet!

If you look up the description of a Pisces online, you may stumble across my picture. For better or worse, I’m the epitome of this water sign. I go back and forth on the whole astrological sign thing, but I’ll tell you that the sign’s general descriptions are so spot on, it’s somewhat eerie. Pisces are the most sensitive of all zodiac signs, with characteristics including empathy, expressed emotional capacity, intuitiveness, absorbing and reflecting the feelings of others, wearing our hearts on our sleeves, compassionate, devoted, adaptable, and imaginative. Pisces enjoy happy people and happy endings. 

While I am sensitive and sentimental, Pisces are not the pushovers that they may seem. In fact, they have a strength of character and will stand up for what they believe in, and they can do hard work for something they believe in. Exactly! They can be very lazy but only in matters that they do not care about. Uh-huh. I can be quite strong when I need to be. I’ve had to advocate for my child with ADHD and learn how to navigate the system. I’ve had to stand up for my daughter’s skills in her sports league. And lobby for me on many occasions.

As a city girl, I didn’t become a full-on driver until I moved to the ‘burbs. That was when I was 39 years old. And as a result, I have a bit of a bus route! I stole that phrase from one of the other mothers in my kids’ daycare. Meaning I’m constantly driving to/picking up my kids from events, appointments, friends, school, etc. I can’t complain because it’s pretty much what I signed up for, but it can be very comical how often I drive to/from the same areas of town in a given week.

Sometimes I come across as scattered, but I’m pretty darn reliable, and you can count on me. If I vow to do something, I’ll do it. It might be last minute or a tad late, but I will get it done. I believe I’m on the cusp of being an introvert and extrovert. I’m a recovered shy person, although I do fall into it now and again. However, my children will disagree, as they tell me that I’ll talk to anyone. They cringe when we see someone we know in the supermarket, let’s say because I become Chatty Cathy. 

I love to relax and be lazy. I love to sleep in and take naps. I’m a writer, but I’m not much of a reader. I love to laugh to the point of crying; I’m a reformed nail-biter; and I’m a firm believer in “pick your battles.” 

My photos mean the world to me, and reminiscing with old friends is always a treat. Speaking of friends, I’m lucky to have many lifelong friends. I’m honored and humbled to say this. And I can only hope that they adore me even one bit of how much I adore them. The older I get, the more I believe that family is everything – yet, I don’t even come close to portraying that to anyone other than my children.

How’d I Do?

That was actually a lot easier than I thought it would be! And I could have added more and more!  

Not to be morbid, but what’s that expression? “They aren’t going to put your job title on your tombstone” or something similar? Remember your family, your friends, your values, and the things you love. “Tell me about yourself” doesn’t have to be answered with what your job is. We are so much more than our jobs. Your job is only one chapter of one book in your collection.   

I care about “who you are” so much more than “what you do.” 

I care about your contributions to society and the greater good. A more telling question might be, “Who are you?” instead of “What do you do?” Albeit that would be quite freaky! The answer to that little 4-word question doesn’t define or equate with who you are because you (and I) are SO much more than that.