Underachiever: On Working “Only” Part Time
“So, you are an underachiever”
Said my Gastroenterologist. It was one of out first meetings, during the anamnesis. I came with complaints of continuous abdominal pain for several months. I am stily in pain. My blood-work indicates that I might have Crohn’s disease. I just told him I worked as a caregiver for the elderly — a job I will soon leave. During that time I was finishing writing my thesis for my Master’s degree in biotechnology.
I am an underachiever in the eyes of most “normative” people. People who see a young person who have to work harder. Who probably can work harder. Who they think should work harder. When people hear that I have a second degree, and they assume I should have a fancy job. Something like work in a biotech startup, a pharmacological company. And if not, I should be working on my PhD. When they hear what I do for living they are confused. I seem to be “such a bright and smart person.” I should be working full time, having some huge career goals. Of course, I also should be working on having kids as well, because I have boobs. But let’s put the kids part aside.
I don’t work as a caretaker anymore. After finishing my thesis I found a job as a research engineer in a lab that works a lot with plant tissue cultures. I mainly transfer plants from one culture to another, and make growth mediums. I worked on animal tissue cultures for my Master’s degree. That is why handling plant tissue cultures is a piece of cake for me. They need less complicated care and they grow in a slower rate.
When I applied with my short CV I also asked if there is an option for a part time job. The answer was positive and I was invited to an interview. During the interview I worked hard on maintaining an eye contact. I tried my best to look smart, normal and relaxed. But at the end, I did what some people in my family said me I mustn’t do. I disclosed that “I have an Asparger’s syndrome”. I decided that using autistic will lead to too much problems. I was asked to explain, which I did. I have no idea why I impressed the staff in the lab I applied to. But I did. I work there 3 months now, 3 days a week. And anytime my grandmother and mother are reminded of this fact, they are angry at me. when others hear that I work part time they stop for several seconds. And they ask questions.
Mother and grandmother say I must work more. I must make more money. I shouldn’t show any signs of my disability, like wearing noise blocking headphones. I mustn’t ask for accommodations like keeping the radio off or take breaks. This is asking for special care, which is wrong. No one will agree to employ me like that. I should be a good citizen. I must be like everybody else.
But I disagree.
You probably think to yourself that I am lazy, you may be right. This is what my parents and grandparents say to me. But that is not the only part of the story. Here is other parts of it, parts that are told by me, and are actually about me.
I work in that lab 3 days a week, for about 8 hours a day. It is not because I am only needed 3 days a week. It is because 60% of a standard job is about the 100% I can give. More then that means that I do nothing but work and sleep. I will say that again: working full time will mean that all I will be able to do is work and sleep. I will also need a lot of care and support from my live-in partner. If I work that much, I won’t be able to make myself food, or shower or even get out of bed during weekends.
In order to function in the lab without anxiety or too much pain I take painkillers and herb oil daily. If I work full time, my anxiety will be very high due to with public transportation dealing twice a day. It is also very hard for me to communicate with people because of my autism, which I need to do sometimes. My pain will be higher — because it increases when I am tired. I will come home, and fall asleep. After sleeping for 3 hours I will manage to shower and brush my teeth and go to bed, for 8 hours of sleep.
I know from my life experience that in such condition that if I cook, I will cut myself. If I try to clean I will go into a meltdown and cause much more mess by knocking of things accidentally from places. Because when I am tired, my gross motor skills are extremely bad. I won’t be able to eat, because eating is scary for me. My history of violent force feeding means that food is scary. And my all consuming anxiety gets superpowers when I am exhausted.
I will do be able to do only 2 things. I would work. I would sleep. My partner will have to take care of me even more when now. Because I won’t be able to do any other thing.
How can I know all this?
I know what it will look like because I already lived that way during my Master’s degree. When I lived with my genetic family it wasn’t so problematic. I was not allowed to actually cook anyway. I tried to pack my lunch boxes on my own when I could, but it was useless. My grandmother would investigate them and change and their contents. She added more food, sometimes in a way that wouldn’t allow the box to close. I couldn’t eat that food, because it was a change from what I expected to find in my box. Sometimes my grandmother lied that my lunch box wasn’t touched. But it contained food that I couldn’t eat due to sensory problems. On other times the parts of the lunchbox were put in the wrong way, not allowing it to close properly. I stopped packing lunch and ate the things that were packed for me. So I gave up and my life was a sleep-work-sleep-work cycle. Having a daily fight about the content of my lunch box was too much. My life was nothing but the lab and the degree. I thought that this is how everyone lives their life, and I was somehow problematic for wanting more. I thought that I was too weak for being tired and needing so much sleep. Other people managed to do other things in their life. Not me.
I know now that I don’t want to live that way anymore. I don’t want to live a life in which I can’t do anything but work on tissue cultures, sleep, and nothing more. No social activities, because they will lower my performance at work. No hobbies, because I won’t be able to do them while sleeping. No children because I won’t be able even to have sex to make them. My partner is not into raping me when I sleep or too anxious to do anything but lay on the bed and rock back and forth.
I don’t want to live like that for 20 or 30 or 40 years. I want to recover from the abuse I grew under. I want to treat my depression and anxiety — so once a week I will take the bus to my psychologist. No working after that — my motor skills vanish after sessions — and I will ruin experiments. I want to be with my partners and my friends. I want to cook and clean the flat. I want to have hobbies, to write and sew and draw. I want to live.
But you need money!
I want to work so I can afford a roof over my head and several meals a day and therapy, and I have enough for that. I don’t need a fancy house or a social status or normative brand clothing or furniture. I don’t want to eat in restaurants every day or week or month (they are not accessible for me anyway). I have enough. Why should I want things that I don’t even like or need?
I don’t want to work for the sake of working, because that is what adults should do.
So yeah, I am an eyesore with all my autistic hand flapping and my cane using due to chronic abdominal and leg pain. I am an underachiever for working part time job because I want to do more then work and sleep. Because I can’t do more, even if I try my hardest and do my best. I can’t control my motor skills going down, and I cut myself enough times to learn my lesson. As lab rules go: Safety first.
You see, I am an underachiever because I want to be happy, and I want to be as healthy as I can. I have only one thing in my life: my time. I don’t want to use it to make others comfortable by working full time to look normal. I have enough. I make about 3000 ILS a month right now. I get paid the minimal wage per hour. My salary will go up once my job will recognize my degree (paperwork issue). It probably won’t be more when 5000 ILS a month anyway. Right now I can afford what I need. But I need more then money, I need time. And my job can’t give me that.
