I’m having an identity crisis.
Don’t get me wrong – I know who I am (it’s me, Emma Stern, hi!), but as a 30-something Millennial woman who’s been with the same employer since graduating college 10 years ago, I can’t help but wonder: Who am I, outside of my 9-5?
There’s a reason the question, “What do you do?” is one of the first posed by new acquaintances at parties — it’s an easy way to size someone up, find common ground, and offer a jumping-off point for conversation.
I, myself, am guilty of weaving it into my small-talk rotation. After all, in LA — where I’ve lived for almost a decade — people are often judged by who they know, or where they’ve been, or what they’re working on. It’s their first “identifier.”
Hell, most of my peers are on job No. 2, or No. 3, or even No. 4. And it’s something that’s often encouraged at a corporate level — we’re told we can’t “advance” unless we zig-zag up the career ladder by switching employers and roles throughout our 20s and 30s, or we’ll stay stagnant. We won’t learn new skills. We won’t be challenged.
But here’s where my problem comes in: From the outside looking in, I have a dream job (and for all intents and purposes, I really believe that I do): I’m a travel writer and full-time magazine editor with a salary and health benefits, who is allowed to take creative risks and who spends several weeks of the year jet-setting around the world — and writing about it. I swam with Manta Rays in Hawaii, bungee jumped in Zimbabwe, polar-plunged in Antarctica and have stayed in countless hotels and onboard 20+ cruise ships. All in all, I’ve been lucky enough to have visited nearly 50 countries across six continents while on assignment.
It’s a rewarding gig, igniting two of my passions (writing, and travel) and it helps me remain curious and a forever student of the world. So when I’m asked, “What do you do?” my answers flow easily and freely: I’m a travel writer, I work for a magazine, I have a podcast.” Usually, that gets people’s attention, and I’m deemed worthy of conversation, often fielding the same questions over and over again — “So, you get paid to go on vacation?” “Do you get to travel for free?” “Do you get discounts?” “Can I be your plus-one?” (First, please don’t ask me these questions. And second, traveling for work is not always as glamorous as it seems. But that’s for another newsletter. :)
Often, I’d leave said parties exhausted, and with an emptiness inside. I am living the “dream,” but how do I separate what I do, from who I am? Am I interesting to people solely because of my job, or would they find me an interesting new friend, even without it?
When I first met my now-husband, Nick, in the beginning of March 2020, our first interaction came via a comment he left on a photo on my Hinge profile: I was red-faced and beaming on top of Mount Kilimanjaro in Tanzania, having just summited the mountain while on assignment for my magazine.
(^An actual screenshot from my Hinge profile, circa March 2020)
I had extensively trained for six months leading up to the trek, and it’s still one of my proudest accomplishments to date. The photo got us off and running — Nick was curious about the climb, and my job came up in conversation within our first few text bubbles.
Soon after, the world shut down for COVID-19 and so, too, did the travel industry. Suddenly, I didn’t have the next big trip scheduled. We began our COVID relationship indoors and isolated — forced to get to know each other quickly, and intimately.
Normally a self-assured person when it came to dating, I was worried. Would Nick still find me interesting, even without seeing me travel for my job?
He was curious about my work, sure, but he was more curious about me. Yet even despite this, my insecurities bubbled up to the surface. At one point, after a few months of dating, I asked him: “Would you like me without my job?”
During the pandemic, Nick was between jobs in LA’s entertainment industry. He turned it back around to me: “Would you like me without mine?” (Like most entertainment industry workers in LA, Nick’s job as a writers’ assistant is part of the gig economy — once a television show ends, or goes on hiatus, he’s on to the next. He’s a hustler, and his answer to “What do you do?” is always changing.)
And yet that’s the least interesting thing about him.
Luckily for me, Nick continued to remind me of that. For the first year of our relationship, he didn’t know me as “travel writer Emma.” He just knew me as “Emma” — his cat-obsessed, reality TV-loving yogi girlfriend who eats way too much sushi and who considers herself to be a fiercely loyal friend, daughter and sister.
This “identity crisis” is something I think about often, as I look around at my friends, most of whom are Millennial women. One is in a high-powered sales position at a tech company, one is a personal trainer. Several others are nurses, SAHMs, or small-business owners. Many are in entertainment, and one is working as a barista while studying to be a therapist.
And yet, those are the least important things about them. I love them for who they are — how they make me laugh, how they lend a listening ear, how they empathetically and passionately live their life.
I never think about their jobs; frankly, they’re cool enough without them.
So, what I am consistently learning is this: Ultimately, finding an identity outside of your 9-5 requires self-reflection. A conscious effort to cultivate passions and relationships that fulfill you. It's about recognizing your worth beyond your job title, and embracing the multifaceted person you are.
This is where the “Am I OK?” newsletter comes in.
Ultimately, I decided to start “Am I OK?,” in part, as a bridge to overcome this self-inflicted “identify crisis” and engage with other topics and themes that I enjoy: health and wellness (via workouts and recipes), self-improvement routines (or thoughts from the latest self-help book I’m digging into), shopping lists, and observations on nurturing relationships near and far, all while connecting with a new community. I hope you’ll join me on this journey, and in reading this newsletter each week, you will connect with other parts of your life — beyond the 9-5 — that you deem to be most fulfilling, too.
No matter what, we’ll all be OK.
Oh, and I’ll share some of my favorite travel hacks, places to go/stay, my top gear, destination guides and packing advice, too.
I am a travel writer, after all.
All my best to you this week.
Emma Stern
I have felt all of this deeply. And I love you for being Emma <3!
I went through this myself when I got laid off. Maybe it’s just a rite of passage at some point for anyone whose job is rather all-consuming, but I’m so glad you’re seeking the answers sooner than later. The last many years have been a search for me for identity outside of career, and it’s been really rewarding to start to move past the need to feel like I’m “important” or “worthy” when people ask what I do. Because our jobs can be cool, rewarding, exciting, etc., but they are ultimately just another part of our lives, not who we ARE. After all, someone’s job can make them seem cool, but if they’re not actually cool, everyone will find out eventually 😂