Dr. Bus and making progress

I ride a campus bus occasionally, and I happened to see one of the senior faculty members in my department waiting the other day. I winced (because I was leaving even earlier than normal), but shrugged and waved hello. He smiled and waved back, so I scooted around the crowd of people who were also waiting to get to Dr. Bus. (See how creative I was there? Nice.)

I don’t know him well at all, though he has always struck me as equally smart and kind. He smiles and asks gentle questions at group meetings. He offers ideas, then stops to listen when I respond with my own thoughts. Perhaps he’s always been an exceptional teacher. Or maybe as he’s aged in the academic system, he’s learned to wait out the youngsters, remaining steady in his wisdom while acquiring new knowledge, and continuing to progress in his research and teaching. Regardless, I like and respect him a great deal.

“Hello.” He said, his voice not over brisk from his east coast origins nor exaggeratedly slow from his time here in the south. He must have noted I looked mildly nervous because he nudged me with his shoulder. “I’m sneaking out early.” He confided with a smile. “I have an appointment, then thought I’d enjoy the afternoon.”

My smile of greeting eased into a grin. “I have company this week.” I shared, and he cocked his head so I continued. “My brother and his family are here, so I’m going to join them at my cousin’s house. I don’t get to see them as often as I’d like.”

He nodded. “It’s hard to be away from family.” I agree, so I nodded along with him.

The bus arrived, and he stood aside to let me precede him. I found an empty row near the front and scooted toward the window so he could sit next to me.

“I can move if your stop is before mine.” He told me, sitting down and perching his briefcase on his lap. I asked where he was going and told him where I’d stop. Having established the details, we started to talk about work. He asked a couple of questions which I skillfully ducked. I’m not accomplishing anything of note, but have become extremely good at deflecting attention from that glaring fact.

“Do you like it here?” He asked.

“What?” I asked, watching as people walked down the steps at the first stop.

“Are you happy?” He restated, turning to look at me more closely.

“Yes.” I said, smiling, not wanting him to think me ungrateful for the incredible opportunity of studying here. “The resources are amazing, and I like Boss very much. It’s a good group. I can learn a great deal.”

“So you like your projects?” He probed a bit, perhaps noting I wasn’t sharing too many details.

I nodded, perhaps unwilling to lie outright. I should like them – I designed the suckers, wanted to do this work. It wasn’t that this was my only job offer – it was, however, the best one. The one I felt offered the fastest benefits, the most comfortable transition, a lifestyle that appealed, and work I was certain I could do. Why the hell am I not happy?! But it hardly seemed appropriate to desperately grip his sleeve and beg him to tell me what I was doing wrong. So I smiled and cocked my head at him.

“How long have you been here?” Always deflect attention, I told myself, pleased with my question. If we talked about him, we wouldn’t have to discuss my progress and satisfaction (or lack thereof).

“10 years…” He said, trailing off and squinting as he calculated.

He’s an older gentleman, so I felt comfortable asking from where he came. As he went through a list of industry and academic positions (a short and impressive list, actually), I nodded along.

“It’s good to be here.” He concluded. “I considered retiring, but I can’t think of anything I’d want to do more than this. We’re lucky, aren’t we? To be able to do something we love?”

“It’s easy to forget that, I guess.” I murmured, then lapsed into silence. Guilty silence because I should love it, but I don’t. I’m not sure if it’s a temporary problem or if I picked the wrong niche or field or freaking career path in general. I do know that if someone offered me enough money to live comfortably, I’d take an extended break from my job. Would I return? I’m honestly not sure. And shouldn’t I know? Even if this is wrong (which would be quite disappointing, yes?), it would be nice if I could make some decision and move forward.

Instead, I spent today working on those paper revisions – recreating tables from scratch because I lost files in my move. That’s the problem with publishing projects years after they’re completed – stuff gets lost. Or forgotten. Or seems inexplicably strange. Regardless, I did work that I can remember doing before so I could complete additional analyses to actually get this paper in press. Then I created a presentation on a different side project. There’s some satisfaction in that, I decided. Even while I languish in indecision over my future, I can make some moments here professionally meaningful. Not have a section of my CV that reads, "Postdoctoral Training: Eh, not so much happened."

I realized, whether in working or talking or thinking this over, that work may not feed my soul at any point. There will always be concerns of greater interest. God – I feel right when I’m doing well with Him. Peaceful, centered and strong. Oh, and I loved sitting on the couch, the Little One resting against my shoulder as nursery rhymes played softly on TV and she dozed quietly. There’s a loving warmth that I can’t imaging giving up for any amount of money. Perhaps that’s where my life needs to center – around people and faith. Maybe work is just what I do during the day – a place to make progress on projects I think are important, to learn and challenge myself, to be satisfied with my contribution when I leave to attend to the parts of my life that make my heart happy.

It has always been my fault I’m not blissfully happy here – there’s no question of that. But I think the strict focus on work or miserable guilt when I’m not working is the wrong strategy. I need to find a church home that works for me – I’ve made a tiny effort, then wrinkled my nose and spent more time with the laptop. I’ve let old friendships slide and have made little effort to meet new people. I haven’t braved the long drive home very often though I miss my family terribly.

This month has been good, I think – having people around, starting to miss God more and more, realizing that there are steps I can take so that I can answer more confidently when someone inquires over my happiness. I’ll work on it. Promise.

Note: I have a bad headache, so the edits on this one could be less than ideal. Sorry about that. Oh, and thank you for the comments on the new look! It makes the hours I spent on it feel quite worthwhile. (Yes, hours. Photoshop is delightful, but it takes me some time.)