the sweet spot

A few years ago I was invited to speak to a group of young girls for career week. I asked what I should focus on – Types of pharmacy? Years of college? Residency options? Job opportunities?

The reply was, “Oh. You’re a pharmacist? We wanted you to come speak about being an author.”

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This week marks my 14 year anniversary working for the Veterans Administration as a Clinical Pharmacist.

I didn’t remember until service awards were mentioned on a recent team call.

I don’t talk about it often and have not made that a notable part of my platform.  It’s taken me quite a bit of self-reflection to understand why.

There is a sweet spot that few are lucky to find.

It’s that place where their highest skills and most beautiful talents meet education and preparation and they all hold hands as they jump into a pot of financial freedom.

That is not my story.

My story is more like, some of my skills met A LOT of education and they bear-hugged each other as they jumped into a deep well of student loans. 

That was intended to make you giggle. This post will not be that depressing, keep reading. 

When I graduated with my doctorate degree, I was motivated and ambitious. I was out to prove that I could do it all. I could have it all. I was 25 years young and 7 months pregnant.

It was a few years into my first daughter’s life when, by necessity, all of my motivation and ambition shifted their focus to support her needs. 

Her needs would grow, change, and become more and more life-altering with each passing year. 

I would end up having two more children along the way, making us a party of five.

It was very gradual, but eventually, the heavy responsibility at home outweighed by far the desire to add more responsibility at work and so what I thought would be a big, fancy career, became a good, stable job – by choice.

As a recovering people-pleaser-valedictorian, who for years assumed her value and worth was wrapped up tight in accomplishments, awards, rankings and promotions, going to work every day trying NOT to do and be MORE, was not easy.

The initial discomfort has proven worth it.

I think sometimes our messaging to our children becomes one-sided. 

We have all heard it before. “Choose a career that you love, that you have passion for, where going to work every day does not feel like work.” 

Or my favorite, “Choose a career that “lights you up”.”

Yes. That is nice and good. 

It is also rare. 

That is exactly what I thought I was doing. 

This messaging is not wrong by any means, but in my experience, incomplete. 

It doesn’t account for the fact that many times in your life, your passions will change. What “lights you up”, will not remain constant. What and who you love and prioritize, will inevitably shift.

And that my friends is wonderful, not sad.

For me, my secure and flexible job does not “light me up” per se, but it has allowed me the privilege and ability to pursue my ever-changing passions and be the mother I choose to be to my children. 

For that, I could not be more grateful.

Make no mistake, this blog post is not about sacrifice or martyrdom.

Not even close.

This is about the power of motherhood to change someone so intensely and completely.

This is about the power of love.

This is about the power of choice and the peace that comes when you embrace your choice.

This is about allowing the life you have been gifted to change and mold your dreams, not destroy them. 

Nothing about motherhood or caregiving destroyed by dreams. It gave me tender permission to dream new ones. Perhaps, the ones that would align closest to my life purpose.

Brave reader, there is no shame that needs to be attached to your life or day if your job doesn’t “light you up”.

There is no guilt that should be stapled to your paycheck because you feel your job is just that. 

Paychecks are nothing to scoff at. They are vital and earned and should be points of pride.

They are also super important for those student loans. Just saying.

Because of the choice I have made to be readily available for my daughter and my family, I won’t ever advance in my job to any position of leadership, supervisory role or administration. I will not volunteer for all the extra overtime or raise my hand when a spot comes open on a team that will travel to work on innovative system changes. 

BUT…

I will continue to give my all to the patients I am assigned each day.

I will continue to sing Happy Birthday to them over the phone and cheer with the strangers in the background.

I will continue to cry and sometimes share silence with the caregivers and recently widowed.

I will continue to pray with the fearful before surgery and following devastating diagnoses.

I will continue to help them make medical decisions that I would deem worthy for my own family.

My chosen profession may not have brought fiery passion into my life, but it did bring profound purpose.

I am honored to have served veterans for 14 years and I am thankful for this job that has helped me craft a message for my children that is more complete.

There is a difference between having passion for a profession and compassion for people. If you happen to find both for parts or all of your life, that is wonderful. If you have to choose one, choose compassion.

Compassion is the sweet spot.