In the year 2026

One job interview question (and I got asked twice last week) was "Where do you see yourself in 5 years?"

I have no idea.

I get the question. I have asked the question myself. You ask it to see if the person is goal-oriented or flaky or if you can reasonably expect to have them around for the amount of time that the job lasts.

Being asked nearly brought me to tears. (It's okay; I did not cry and they still hired me.)

It's not just that I have been out of things for so long, making re-entering the work force is a major adjustment that frankly has a lot of anxiety attached to it. It's also that during that time period the world seems to have become ever more unpredictable.

Fascist gets elected, then gets voted out, but a bunch of fascist thugs tried to undo that and apparently were ready to hang everyone in the line of succession, including the vice president who was technically one of theirs.

Climate change contributes to smoky skies, worse storms, plague rats, and speaking of plagues...

Global pandemic that we can't seem to halt because some people have made resistance to knowledge the defining core of their personality. Worth dying for, and especially worth letting other people die for.

So I find it a little hard to think about whether I want to get on a management track or go back to school when I am not sure what kind of hellscape we will be seeing in 2026.

Are there technical writing positions within the company? Maybe I should learn to code?

In the last  part of A Burst of Light, Audre Lorde writes about different things she is working on. She is setting up a new office, and there are graduate papers to comment on, and speaking engagements, I think. She led a busy life. 

What she had then, though, was a lack of certainty about what could be completed. She didn't know how much time she had left. 

What is there time to finish, and is it a good use of time if it won't be finished?

I am living my life every particular day no matter where I am, nor in what pursuit. It is the consciousness of this that gives a marvelous breadth to everything I do consciously. My most deeply held convictions and beliefs can be equally expressed in how I deal with chemotherapy as well as in how I scrutinize a poem. It's about trying to know who I am wherever I am. It's not as if I'm in struggle over here while someplace else, over there, real life is waiting for me to begin living again.

Realistically, my situation is not that dire. As I start working again, I will get a better idea of what I want to do for that. 

It will have to be based on my values. 

Taking care of Mom myself definitely felt like the right thing to do. I still don't doubt that, despite the price paid financially and emotionally. It was the only right choice.

Future job choices will probably not be that stark (I hope not), but I will still make those decisions based on what feels right and appropriate. I will make choices based on what I care about, and what I can manage.

I will make choices based on faith.

I hope it doesn't mean always being broke, but there are no guarantees.

Living with cancer has forced me to consciously jettison the myth of omnipotence, of believing – or loosely asserting – that I can do anything, along with my dangerous illusion of immortality. Neither of these unscrutinized defenses is a solid base for either political activism or personal struggle. But in their places, another kind of power is growing, tempered and enduring, grounded within the realities of what I am in fact doing. An open-eyed assessment and appreciation of what I can and do accomplish, using who I am and who I most wish myself to be. To stretch as far as I can go and relish what is satisfying rather than what is sad. Building a strong and elegant pathway toward transition.

I work, I love, I rest, I see and learn. And I report. These are my givens. Not sureties, but a firm belief that whether or not living them with joy prolongs my life, it certainly enables me to pursue the objectives of that life with a deeper and more effective clarity.