Meaning and Value

I’ve been writing for 15 years. It’s almost hard to believe I’ve been doing anything that consistently, given my last post. But it’s the only thing that has held meaning for me consistently.

I often wonder how much meaning matters when it comes to what you do for a living. For much of my life, it has felt like the messaging of the world is that a job is required but meaning is optional. In fact, meaning at work is rare and often sacrificed in the pursuit of money, which can then be used to bring you meaning in your off hours.  Or, if we want meaning at work, we have to find it in what someone else defines as valuable. You should feel good about your work even if your employer pulls the rug out from under you and tells you the job you’ll now be doing isn’t even remotely related to what you were hired to do, because making sure your employer succeeds is the purpose of your work.

Unfortunately, many of us believe this.

That has certainly the case for me. Since I was in high school and maybe even earlier, my mind has been convinced that external definitions of success are priority number one because they are what lead to security. It’s led me to shut down my inner truth time and time again as I force myself through tasks and projects that feel like they have zero meaning. Even when they contribute to a good mission, there’s something in me that just can’t shake that I would bring more meaning to the world and to myself if I were writing. That feeling must be there for a reason.

But what about the money?? That’s the question my mind always comes back to when I desire something more fulfilling, and it works well. There are always security-focused parts of my psyche willing to join in: Who’s going to find enough value in your writing to pay for it? Even if there are a few, will it be enough to live off of? Will it be as predictable as a steady paycheck? The chances of that are slim to none.

These voices have always won. Because fending for yourself is a reality in this world we live in, and the powers that be tend to value the things that are harmful (the stock market, war, addictive and invasive technology) over things that are life-giving (art, nature, education). And “value,” no matter how manufactured it is, is usually what determines where there is money.

But last week how I view my writing and its value shifted.

I’ve always just assumed my writing has no value. Not monetarily, and not even in the sense that it would make an impact on others. It’s kept me from sharing my work for years in an attempt to protect myself from potential rejection. Even as a few wonderful friends have read these blog posts week after week for a couple of months, I admit that deep down some voice told me they were just being good friends.

And then over this last week several people reached about about my work, totally unprompted. From people who have been reading my work for awhile to people I’ve barely spoken to in years. And it’s shifted something in me.

Not only has it made me believe that actually, maybe my work has some value to others, it’s also triggered this very important mindset shift. That I can’t know the value I bring unless I believe in it first, and that perhaps meaning truly is the guidepost of where I can bring the most value (even when it doesn’t neatly fit into what the world defines as valuable).

So thank you to everyone that reached out to me recently. It truly meant so much to hear from you. Whether you meant to or not, you’ve made me believe in myself, and perhaps even made me a little delusional. Not enough to quit my day job tomorrow, but enough to make me believe that if my soul is telling me that writing is how I’m supposed to be spending the majority of my time, then I’ll be able to find a way to do that one step at a time. I just have to keep showing up.