50 – and a failure?

When I was a kid, fifty was ancient. Fifty-year-olds were pretty much pushing up the daisies. But living through several decades – decades of huge changes in technology, society and medicine, and how we view age – has made me rethink that. A few months ago, back in May, I turned fifty. I know I’m biased, but I genuinely don’t think fifty is considered ancient nowadays. Then again, it is a milestone, and a milestone is always worth reflecting on.

As a writer, whenever I begin on a new story I always carefully consider which point of view (POV) I’ll be telling the story from. Will I be getting inside the head of the protagonist and therefore writing in first person POV, or will I be writing from an outsider’s – a third person’s – perspective? (Sometimes I write in second person perspective, giving instructions and asking questions of the reader, but I do this rarely. Here is an example of a favourite story of mine: ‘A Survival Guide for the Contemporary Princess’.) I thought it might be useful to consider my fifty years on Earth through these various POVs.

Third Person Perspective (viewed through a capitalist lens)

If my life, so far, were to be viewed by someone who considers a person’s worth solely in financial terms, then I am absolutely a big fat failure. This person would look back at my school and education and say that I started out strong by doing well at school, working various Saturday jobs, then going on to university to gain a BSc, MSc and PhD in Chemistry, culminating in becoming a postdoctoral researcher.

Now, if I had continued either one of the usual career paths – staying in academia to eventually land a professorship or entering industry to earn a high salary – I may well have ended up being considered a “success” through this capitalist lens. After all, higher education and the chemical industry are still considered to be industries with a certain level of job security. (Just about…) But chemical research wasn’t for me. So I moved into teaching science at secondary school level. (Definitely a demotion from a capitalist’s perspective.)

Teaching, however, still pays a salary. In fact, the schools I worked at were my last formal employers, because I then went and did something fearfully anti-capitalist… I got married, had my first child, and because my husband earned enough for us all, I decided to not return to work. Like forever (!). (I can see the frown on Mr Capitalist’s face. In truth, I picture this as the face of the double-glazing salesman who wondered about my title of ‘Dr’. When I told him that I used to work in academia but now stayed at home to look after my children his frown said it all. I was such a failure.)

Anyway, alongside caring for my children, I embarked on a crazy plan: to spend any free time I had writing. Amazingly enough, I wrote some non-fiction articles and short stories that I even received some money for. Woo hoo! Then I decided to run a small press (hint: there is no money to be made by running a small press). Mr Capitalist – actually, an accountant that I spoke to about filing tax returns – told me my business was nothing more than a hobby and that, in essence, the whole endeavour was worthless. (I admit to having a little weep over his words. For someone who loves books as much as I do, publishing books is never worthless.)

But look at me now… an award-winning author with more than two decades of writing experience. (And seventeen years of “official” publications!) Am I a success then? No. Mr Capitalist only cares about commerce and, alas, my writing/editing income is so little I don’t even earn enough money to pay tax. Oh dear. I really am a big fat failure.

That said, writing is such a curious profession. Really, it’s a vocation rather than a career. It is, as Nietzche put it, “a long obedience in the same direction.” (Interestingly, I discovered this quote from one of my favourite guitarists – The Edge – speaking about creativity and mentioning Eugene H. Peterson’s book of the same name. Do check out The Edge’s masterclass. It’s full of nuggets of wisdom about creating art.)

Still, let’s look at this from another POV.

Third Person Perspective (viewed through a feminist lens)

When my teenaged children asked me the other day if I were a feminist, I gave them the most succinct answer I always give to people who ask this of me: Yes. I believe that women should have the same rights as men. However, since everyone seems to have their own personal definition of what a feminist is, it can be useful to clarify this before embarking on a discussion of feminism. I asked my daughter and son what their definitions were, and each of them had a slightly different idea of what feminism meant to them, which proved my point: my definition may not be the same as yours; the way I express my feminism may not be the same as yours. (Ironically, it’s almost always women who have started arguments with me about this…)

Anyway, you see, I think that certain second wave feminists threw mothers (and the idea of the nuclear family) under the bus. And since becoming a mother, breastfeeding my children when they were young, and being part of a nuclear family is a core part of my identity, I feel somewhat outside of the feminist movement. Am I a failure for not caring about my professional status and instead finding fulfilment in motherhood? For choosing to become what my culturally savvy daughter tells me is, basically, a tradwife? Personally, rather than seeing motherhood as a constricting role, I see it as a creative one. Yes, caring for children doesn’t leave much time for creating art (remember Cyril Connolly’s quote: “There is no more sombre enemy to art than the pram in the hallway.”?) but it provides what feels like an almost endless source of inspiration. I’m certain that my short story collection Umbilical would not have come about if it weren’t for my children.

So am I failure from a feminist perspective? That depends on the feminist.

Third Person Perspective (omniscient or God’s eye view)

I can’t speak for God – I can’t even imagine what it might be like to be God looking down upon His people. Looking down on me. But I do believe this: God loves every single one of us. We are all so precious to Him no matter our professional status, how we look or where we come from, or how much (or little) money we have. Despite the many mistakes we make, we are always loved by Him. I am loved by Him. And what can be better than knowing that I’m precious to God?! This knowledge is incredibly humbling and heartening.

First Person Perspective

Do I see myself as a failure? Cue deep and long exhalation… No. Yes? Maybe? I guess the answer depends upon my mood. Overall, it’s probably a tentative ‘no’. You see, I’ve found peace in not judging myself too harshly; by living in the present; in enjoying the many God-given gifts I encounter on a day-to-day basis: my lovely family and sweet sausage of a cat, general good health, my friends, home and the friendly community I live in. And every day I am thankful for what some may consider the smallest of pleasures, yet what I consider to be substantial blessings: sleep, nourishing food, feeling sunlight on my skin, the beauty of nature, exercise, reading books, and working towards meaningful goals – continuing to write with a view to gaining more publications; improving my karate. I also have an ongoing mission to become stronger and fitter, and another goal is to declutter the house as much as possible. I am incredibly grateful for the way I get to live my life. Yet this is only possible with the support of my husband and family, so I am ever grateful to them for their help.

Second Person Perspective

Having read the above, you’re starting to make some judgements. You’re coming to conclusions… Is Teika a fifty-old failure? A success? A work-in-progress? That’s for you to decide.

Thanks for reading!

*

And if you enjoyed this post you may like to sign up to my seasonal newsletter. 😀