Build Your Obituary, Not Your Resume

I am turning 40 years old this summer and am trying to work through what comes next. I am happy working at my university and have risen as high in rank as I can without moving into administration. My kids are still very much in the thick of childhood, but will move on to college or whatever the next step is before I know it. I like my job. I like my town. I like my life. But I am my best self when I have a goal to work toward.

I recently told Will I wasn't sure what comes next. What are my career goals? What are my life goals? There are many places I would love to travel and experience, as seeing new places fills my soul with deep satisfaction. I love to write and have felt reinvigorated by focusing more on my blog. I am happy I am healed enough to exercise in some capacity again. Spending time with my family and friends is soul-lifting and a chance to just be myself. But while all these things - travel, writing, exercising, hanging out - are enjoyable activities, they are not the main event. My reason for breathing used to be to make tenure and take care of my family. What comes next now and in the coming years?

A wonderful mentor whom I have admired for many years gave me some pertinent advice recently: Build your obituary, not your resume. I like this so much that I, a Tattoo Virgin, am considering getting a tattoo just to wear these words on my skin. I devoted my 20s and 30s to pursuing my resume: Earning degrees and accolades. Publishing articles that would increase my research currency. Making decisions based on what would look best on paper.

Now that my 40s are approaching, I have the luxury of a slower pace, since I no longer have a ticking clock breathing down my neck at work. I have the luxury of increased time, once my children move on to their next steps and no longer need us on such an intense daily level. My resume is solid. But my obituary is not.

What do I want said in my obituary? That I was kind. That I was helpful. That I took time to value people and relationships and connections. That I spoke up for what was true in my heart, even when using my voice was difficult and costly. That I used my relative privilege to pull up others around me. That I loved others fiercely. That I was authentic and genuine and real. That I lived life fully as my best self.

May we all strive to honor our obituaries over our resumes.