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It's All In There: Thoughts on Integrating Work and Life at 50

 

When I was a kid, spaghetti was a regular meal at our house. Cheap, tasty, and loved by all, my grandmother or aunt would frequently whip up a large bowl of pasta and round it off with Prego spaghetti sauce. I can still remember the company’s catch phrase in the 80’s:

It’s in there.

I can sort of say the same for my day-to-day life at 50. The walls between personal, professional, academic, and artistic pursuits seem to be thinner every day…and each of these areas feels stronger because of it. This part of middle age feels like the era of integration…of being open and honest with who I am at nearly every level, and bringing the strengths to bear!

In my 20s, I felt compelled to keep my music life segregated from coworkers and supervisors. It was my “dirty little secret,” that on weekends I became a different person, far removed from the suit and tie guy serving in IT middle management. I most definitely put on my mask at 8 a.m. Monday morning, removing it at the end of every work day and getting to catch my breath for a glorious 48 hours every Friday through Sunday night. Like the Dark Knight, my Bruce Wayne and Batman were to have different lives, never to appear in the same place at the same time.

When I switched careers at 41 (to teaching), the first small holes began to form in the barriers between my two worlds. My students encouraged me to share my “whole” self and to bring my stories into the classroom. Rather than being incongruous, including my interests and passions into discussions made me more relatable and three dimensional. Discussions about music, pop culture, and even Batman were not only permitted….they were encouraged.

That fall, I organized an entire week of Batman-themed activities; a huge part of my personal life had just moved into the spotlight. THIS college prof wasn’t afraid to share his love of comic books and the Dark Knight in front of hundreds of people. By the following academic year, I was teaching an entire senior seminar on Bruce Wayne’s journey from orphan to caped crusader.

In many ways, the final piece to this puzzle fell into place this August with the first releases of my “solo” musical journey. Since 2019, I’ve been recording songs with friends, literally a piece at a time, and now some of these tunes are hitting streaming services under the moniker “Scorched Earth Syndrome.”

I was previewing a song for a colleague this summer when he said to me “the kids are going to think this is so cool.” It hadn’t occurred to me until that moment that my students would likely be hearing this work; like any art, these songs are charged with my opinions, worldviews, and musings about life. Art, at its root, is confessional, after all. While being vulnerable in a public space goes along with being a working musician, this angle terrified me.

At the same time, I realized how much of the “authentic” me had already permeated my workspace and daily life. I am honest with my students; I don’t hide the world from them or pretend that everything will always be ok. Instead, I tell the truth but show compassion. I remind them that there are nearly always alternatives and multiple ways to see a situation.

I realized that there was likely little in my song lyrics that they wouldn’t already see in me during every interaction.

We often talk about the value in work-life balance; many people, for example, dislike hybrid work as their personal spaces become “tainted” with the residue of work. I see it from a different perspective these days; while I may wear different clothes in the classroom or on stage, these venues are simply parts of a “whole” life. There’s no longer a work-life or a personal-life….but simply a LIFE. Many of the colleagues down the hall or across campus have grown to be extensions of my friend-family (framily?). Why would I relegate them to secondary status simply because of where we interact?

I’m certainly not saying that my approach is right for everyone; some people don’t enjoy the same level of workplace personal connections or an environment that’s as open to complete authenticity. As an academic, I most definitely enjoy the privilege of bringing my creative side to the office. I am grateful to be in a work environment that allows me to be my best and most complete self.

My takeaway for you? Consider letting a bit more of the “real” you creep into your profession; your authenticity might encourage someone else to do the same.

 

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