Expertise Without Erasure

I have been thinking about three things lately: my career, parenting, and my creative work, which is primarily writing, although it also spills into other forms.

I keep circling the same question: How do I excel at all without losing myself?

Not a dabbler. Not someone constantly catching up. But grounded, competent, and fulfilled in each role.

This line of thinking has led me here. To you.

I am not frustrated. I am not angry. I am feeling sorry for myself.

Sorry that I have to put on my strong woman jacket. It's a heavy jacket. 

Sorry that the systems that exist in the economy I live in do not favor me. They do not allow for rest. They do not leave much room for spaciousness, pause, or focus in a way that doesn't make me feel guilty for resting.

They demand output, consistency, and resilience, often all at once.

So I have had to become a multipotentialite. And not casually so. 

I’ve been reading Haruki Murakami’s memoir, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running. I’m still midway through it.

In the late 1980s, he decided to become a writer. He paused everything else and wrote. Only wrote and ran. And it worked.

There are days when I dream of going away for two years to write and read.

No trying to be an influencer on the socials, No 9 to 5. No deadlines except the ones I set for myself. Just deep work, solitude, and language.

I'm still struggling to incorporate parenting into my two years away. But we shall get there.

Anyway, I don't have the luxury of going away to become the writer I desire to be. Because among many things, I have a child I love very much who goes to school.

Plus, I am a single parent. And not casually so.

Which, in very practical terms, means I have bills to pay.

I could romanticize this season. And sometimes I do because the truth is, I actually enjoy much of what I am doing. I enjoy my work. I enjoy parenting. I enjoy creating. There is meaning here.

What I do not yet have is the financial stability that would allow me to do all this seamlessly. Or softly. Or with support.

Money does answer all things in a way.

So I am forced to be a whole team.

The planner. The provider. The caregiver. The creator. The strategist. The executor.

I am used to it. I am even starting to see the fruit of my dedication. But that does not mean it is the way things should be.

I do not want to romanticize overload.

I do not want to turn exhaustion into a personality trait or survival into a badge of honor. I do not want to teach my child directly or indirectly that love for your work, dreams or ,passions must come at the cost of your body, your joy, or your rest.

What I want instead is a sweet spot.

To operate from a place of rest.

A place where parenting and career do not compete but conversate. Where my creative work is not something I squeeze into the sidelines of my life, but something that informs how I work, how I think, and how I earn.

I am hoping for a future where my career and my creative endeavors merge, where my writing is not separate from my work, and my work does not pull me away from my child.

I do not have the answers yet.

But I know this: ambition does not have to look like burnout. And survival does not have to be permanent.

This season is real. It is heavy. And it is unfinished.

Still, I am choosing to believe that expertise can be built without erasure. That it is possible to be a present parent, a growing professional, and a serious creative, without sacrificing one at the altar of the others.

For now I have removed the pressure of speed. I have decided to move intentionally, to be present, to enjoy the journey of becoming the best version of myself.

It's looking slow. At first I was panicking. Today I am content.

I am not there yet, where I am going.

But I am walking toward it. 

Not slowly but intentionally.

Yours truly,

Tikia with Grace 

Mother

Brand & Marketing Communications Consultant 

Baby Feminist