I started to write a note about this essay from my friend Lane Scott, and it got too long, so I’m just posting it here on my own page. It’s really just an off-the-cuff response.
Lane’s essay is responding to a young woman who wants to know how she (like Lane) can become “somebody.” It’s a great piece, full of Lane’s trademark wisdom, and you should just read it. For me it’s both fun and a little painful precisely because I am nodding so much of the time. I relate deeply to most of what she says. Here’s one passage:
But of course, reaching a point where you think you can say “I’ve made it; I’m somebody!” is in reality alighting onto a high enough perch to get a much clearer view of just how far away you are from mattering. It’s realizing that all the people ahead of you who truly are somebody—fabulous somebodies—would surely look down on a faker imposter fraud like you, should they ever deign to lower their gaze.
My first piece of advice for my dear reader looking to become somebody is to kill that idol stone cold dead, and get to the serious business of not mattering. I confess to you that 99% of my daily life is spent in absolute anonymity as far as my writing and what I accomplish in my work are concerned. I don’t really talk about what I write or do in my career in real life, unless directly asked, and believe me when I tell you that literally no one ever asks.
Yes, so right. I too occasionally get the “tell me the secret, how do you do it” question, but if you want to feel like somebody in regular life, you’d do so much better to head up a committee or have a few fun parties. No, really. I guess I can’t quite endorse that final sentence in my own life, because every once in a very blue moon it has happened to me that someone in the parish or school has said something like, “OK, so this is going to sound ridiculous, but there’s this writer at National Review named Rachel Lu, which is so weird that I just wondered… I mean… I’m feeling dumb now but… that’s surely not you, right?”
Well, so. It is actually me. Any critiques? Great, OK, let’s get these chairs set up, yeah?
Those exchanges are a little awkward and, I repeat, extremely rare. Your writing life doesn’t win you any status in regular life. I say this as a Catholic who has been on the masthead of one of the nation’s leading Catholic magazines (that is, America magazine) for seven years now. Nobody cares.
You maintain a writing life mainly because you can’t not do it. Because you need it. Now and then someone I knew back in the day will tell me, “Yeah, I meant to keep writing but got caught up in XYZ, and the kids, you know.” They seem to feel guilty, and I’m thinking, sister. Why are you apologizing? Millions of people want to express their soul in missives hardly anyone will read. That area is well covered. Your rich family and community life, full of love and service, does not qualify as failure by any standard that matters. I kept writing because I couldn’t seem to live without it; it tortured me not to do it. And since I’m married to a philosopher and have five kids, that drive to write pushed me forward into “trying to squeeze some money out of this, because we sure could use some.” I accept now that this is just how I am, but it makes for a stressful life with way too much “optimization” (the editing on gym pool deck, the frantic car writing, so many home-office graveyard shifts) as well as anxiety-inducing overhead. If you are happy as you are, and your finances are solid, you’re winning big time.
Those are some serious “ifs,” of course. I realize that young women who ask those sorts of questions aren’t necessarily looking for affirmation that “it’s fine just to be a mom!” They maybe do still feel a non-trivial sense of loss over gifts or interests that were left undeveloped. Or they need money, or anticipate needing significantly more money in the near future. Or a combination of those things. I sympathize deeply with both of those motives, and I know too that many of us spend a lot of years trying somehow to do this jiu-jitsu act where we’re properly available for our kids and families and also building some earning power (which our families also need), in ways that don’t leave our own soul entirely without nourishment. It’s truly very hard.
There’s also this piece of it. If you have spent your early adulthood developing yourself and achieving things, and you then lean out and become (primarily) a caretaker, it can be fairly devastating how—even in the old spheres—your status suddenly drops to zero. The treadmill of baby life is relentless, and if you’re someone like me, you probably jump rapidly from “stuff I’m really good at” to a day jam-packed with “stuff no one anywhere, ever identified as a strength of mine,” and that’s pretty demoralizing. It truly cuts you down to size.
So perhaps, to lift your spirits, you move heaven and earth to do something that at least reminds you of your old self (attend a talk, a reception, a conference etc.). And as you’re trying to mingle with people, maybe recapture a shred of a memory of older you, you realize that it is nearly impossible to get anyone to talk to you about anything but baby life. You came specifically to get a ray of not baby life, only to discover that you are absolutely branded now. And the thing is, you can’t even hate people for it, because they aren’t trying to be unkind! In fact, they probably see themselves as generously celebrating your life choices. As the Woman Who Gave It All Up for Babies, you probably love being consulted on your philosophy of naps or spanking. Why would you want to talk about Heidegger? You’ve got more important work now.
What I’m saying is, women who ask how they can be “somebody” (again, or for the first time) may be looking in part for some form of social signaling that can help them indicate to others, “Please recognize me as XYZ sort of person. Not just as Maternity Embodied.” This is not necessarily a ridiculous or vain desire. We all like to be seen as the sort of people we are.
I think I have actually addressed that problem in my own life to some degree. There are spheres of life now where people take me seriously as something other than a mom. And yes, I like that. It doesn’t bleed over much into greater status in mom life, but I do in fact value (to use Lane’s language) my “dual citizenship” in that other country. Maybe I could write an essay at some point on this issue of “social signaling” and strategies to handle that.
Like Lane though, I get a very curious feeling when asked “how I did it,” because it’s just so odd thinking of my life as some great success story. I’ve hit so many walls. So many dead ends. We’ve managed to keep all our kids in Catholic school, and I’m both proud and grateful for that, but given both my level of education and how hard I’ve worked, my earning power is truly unimpressive. And I’m not that young! At conferences I regularly hobnob with people 15-20 years younger than me who undoubtedly earn far more and basically just take this for granted as “the normal career path.” For smart go-getters like them. You know. I meanwhile am continually eyeing the “really essential” to-do list (orthodontics, home repairs, all the things) weighing which are really, really essential, and considering how many commissions I can realistically take over the next few months. Brother, can you spare a dime?
Having said all of that, I do think in the end it comes down to this. The kind of life Lane and I picked cannot be charted and planned in advance. The world does not offer “accommodations” for open-to-life Catholic moms of five. If that’s your road, you’re throwing yourself over a cliff and figuring it out on the way down. It probably won’t be a super-smooth ride, and you will often feel the frustration of all the variables that you can’t control, and all the people who dismiss you up-front because you’re kind of an odd commodity and they don’t really get it.
For all that, throwing yourself over the cliff may not be the worst idea in the world. There are powerful advantages. The kids, obviously! A writing life (and now editing life) that brings me real satisfaction, and makes use of the gifts I actually have. But also a thing that’s harder to quantify, but that I see in spades in women like Lane: a hard-won appreciation of what you really value, which are the things cuckoo media world can’t really take from you. I’m genuinely happy for those high-flying youngsters with all their breezy success, but I also fear for them, because they have so much to lose. There are just so many ways for the world to leverage that against your integrity and your soul.
I enjoy the security of knowing that if I got canceled tomorrow, I could regain and probably exceed my former status in my own community just by having a few fun parties. And then maybe I’d go write the great American novel. Why not?
Strive to be the best version of yourself, and invite God to use you as he wishes. No one can do better than that. And remember that you will never be more of a somebody to anyone on this Earth than you are in the eyes of God.