Letter 33: On Aging & Career Expectations.
Rogue Humans is a weekly newsletter digging into the challenges of life in the modern world of work and beyond.
What I’m Reading:The Wife Upstairs by Rachel Hawkins. Also Over Nine Waves: A Book of Irish Legends by Marie Heaney, an adapted ancient text of Irish mythology.
What I’m Listening to: Roosevelt and lots of it. Spring is here, baby!
In about 3 months I’ll be 44 years old.
That feels strange to type.
FOURTY-FOUR.
Dang.
I’ve never been afraid of aging. It’s not something I ever looked at with a sense of dread - except for the sense of what I’ve seen and done.
I’ve never had a bucket list, but this year I seem to be achieving one on the very day that I turn 44: landing on Irish soil for the very first time.
My father, who I’ve written about many times over, is 97% Irish. He was initially incredibly pissed off about this news, as he was always told he was 100% Irish.
It turns out he’s got the TINIEST sliver of Scottish in there, which I personally think is a positive attribute.
In any case, my father hasn’t traveled much, and even less in the past few years. Other than trips to Tennessee and Lake Erie with friends he pretty much stays put. Mental health issues and a severe heart attack followed by surgery a few years ago has made travel a bit cumbersome for him.
But he LOVES it when I send pictures.
My dad wanted to be an actor. He loved Shakespeare and Edward Albee and everything else in between. On Saturday nights after a few beers he’d put on films like Full Metal Jacket and would give an incredible impression of the drill sergeant.
I found it thrilling. My mom hated it.
My father ended up in a career that is probably closest to acting: sales. And eventually, training others to sell well.
He was incredibly good at his job, but it was stressful, inconsistent and incredibly full of pressure around every corner.
He was the breadwinner. The hero. And because of that, there was little time for self-exploration and travel for fun - except towards the end of my parent’s marriage where they were able to go to Key West for a few weeks. He loved it there so much. He’d call me from the deck of some bar with a daiquiri in hand.
“Tara, you’ve GOT to get down here sometime. My GOD, it’s so relaxing!
This is all I ever wanted.”
He stands by that statement.
I just wish he could have had more of it when he’d been young. He wishes he could have, too - but you can’t alter history.
He had a successful career - one that almost cost him his life. And while he’s proud of the work he’s done, I know he’s glad that part is over.
He now volunteers at a local veteran’s center and lives with his cat and is honestly the absolute happiest that I’ve ever seen him.
”I pushed myself so much when I was young,” my dad still reminds me.
“I had a family to feed.”
My dad has always had massive expectations from himself. It’s where I get it from, of that I’m sure.
It’s also why I do the work that I do.
So many of us have the tendency to push ourselves to the absolute edge to attain “success,” and I am no different.
My partner often says things to me like “you’re such a doer! You have an idea about something, then POOF! You’re already working on it moments later!”
It’s true; I do have that skill. It’s both a blessing and a curse. I get excited and I have a lot of drive, so I’ll push and push and push until I am completely maxed out and stressed and have no one to blame but myself.
When I was a kid, I wanted to grow up to be a writer. And so, I am one (it took some time to allow myself to call myself that). And now I’m working on my first novel along with another book that’s showing up on the heels of it.
And the inner pressure is INTENSE.
The aging process in and of itself doesn’t so much freak me out, but rather the 100% truth that I am not immortal and tomorrow is never promised.
I know I’ll publish my book. I want to publish many of them.
But in the words of Rick Rubin, I have no control over its success.
The only thing I CAN control is what I put on the page, and what I want to and need to create for myself.
Going to Ireland is going to help fuel a lot of stuff for me creatively, and the only reason I’m even going is because I’m lucky enough to give a talk in Manchester for work a week prior.
And so, I’m trying really hard to balance the expectations I have for myself. To make peace with what I CAN do.
That no, I’m not getting any younger, but that if I don’t slow down and appreciate things while they’re happening I’m going to miss the whole thing.
And damn, that would be sad.
Here’s to a beautiful week ahead. One where you don’t increase the pressure for yourself, and maybe you can just gaze around and see what you’ve got going on.
Take it in. It’s not going to be perfect, but it’s yours.
Cheers,