As adults, we are so often defined by “what we do”.  When we meet someone new, that is, more often than not, one of the first things we will be asked.  Narrowly, this question is referring to what we do for a “living”, or, as I prefer to say, to earn monetary income.  I hate this question.  One reason I despise it so much is that I do not have an easy answer and this question usually leads me into a lengthy description of our business (which is incredibly multi-faceted), when all they wanted to hear was a job title.  Sometimes I say “I homestead”, which leads me into a lengthy description of what that means, because I get a look of confusion from the person who asked.  If I’m feeling a bit lazy, or if I just want to avoid the lengthy description all-together, I might say “I’m a stay at home mom”, because I always consider this my most important role, and just deal with the feeling that I totally sold myself short of so many other things I do. 

I have always had a diverse set of interests, skills, and talents, and, to my dismay, what I thought to be a short attention span for anything I might do for a living.  If you are not in this boat, you will not understand just how difficult it is to exist in a culture that encourages a lengthy commitment to a career, or a calling.  As a teen getting ready to graduate high school, I knew how important it was to my parents, my dad specifically, that I find a college major that I could study, find a career at a good company, and stay there for the next 45 years until I retired.  My very first job was cleaning hotel rooms, which I am not ashamed to admit, I loved.  It was that job that lead me to comment one day that I might be interested in hotel management, and my dad jumped on it, finding me the perfect university at which to study, and I think a bit relieved that I was finally on track.  By my second year of college I had all but lost interest in the hospitality industry, but could not think of anything better to do, and I really, really wanted to commit, so I stayed in school, and pressed forward.

After a 7-month internship at a hotel where I excelled and was offered a full-time position at any of the property management company’s extensive list of workplaces upon graduation the following spring, I was done.  I had lost interest completely going into my 5th year of studies.  I was literally standing on the doorway of graduating with a bachelor’s in Hospitality & Tourism Management, a career in my back pocket that could take me all the way to retirement, student loans that would have to be repaid, and no interest to move me forward.  I was paralyzed with fear.  What was wrong with me?  My friends were graduating with job opportunities they were excited about.  How could I have taken such a clearly wrong turn in my decision making?  Was I ever actually interested in this field?  I fell into a horrible tailspin which overshadowed my last year of school.  There was a lot of drinking, socializing, a DUI, and eventually a suicide attempt.  It was all fear-driven.  The fear that I was never going to be successful in the “real world”.  The fear that I had absolutely no idea what to do next.  The fear that it was too late to find something I could do for the next 45 years.  The fear that, even for how well I excelled in school, at jobs, and in organizations for the past 4 years, I had failed, and I was never going to be happy.

Shortly after the drama had subsided, and I was given a lot of time to myself to think about this crazy chain of events, I realized that fear had given away to depression, but I still had control.  With one semester to go, I finished school with honors, and moved across the country to pursue my career.  I spent the greater part of my 20’s in Las Vegas in complete bewilderment of what to do next while I waited tables, worked at a travel agency, studied screen writing and film making, and dreamed of teaching ESL abroad.

Shortly after I met my future-husband, Chris, we moved to Seattle.  I had one goal, to find a job doing something completely different.  I saw this move as a new beginning.  A chance to explore a new career, with the hopes that I could make the commitment that was expected from me to drive me forward into retirement.  I was at least partially successful.  I was hired as a manager at a local Michael’s Arts and Crafts store, supervising the Custom Framing department.  What I had found most interesting about this opportunity was that it was given to me based greatly on my outstanding math skills, which I honestly didn’t even knew I possessed.  I took a quick mental note; I’m good at math.
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In Seattle, I not only excelled in the framing industry as a manager and in the craft, but I had the opportunity to explore so many different creative arts.  I took classes in painting, jewelry making, drawing, and writing.  I hiked, rollerbladed, and sat on the beach.  When Chris was offered a job back in Vegas that he couldn’t turn down, I spent the next 6 months of my life completely on my own for the very first time.  I won’t say it wasn’t a little bit scary, and a little bit lonely, but overall it was exactly what I needed to open my eyes to the most important thing I could ever have learned about myself…I could do anything I wanted to, and I didn’t have to do anything for that magical 45 years.  I was officially free.

I recently learned that there is a name for “what I do”, I am a Multipotentialite.  I am in a group of people who have a great deal of interests, and I excel at whatever I decide to pursue by going all in.  I can be easily bored once I have reached a certain point, so I move on to something else.  This internal wiring can be very frustrating when you have a culture that does not recognize or support this way of life, but, by embracing it, I find a great deal of satisfaction in knowing that this hasn’t been something that is holding me back from being successful, this is why I am successful.

Since discovering this I have gone on to explore many different areas of interest that I have been able to turn into monetary income.  I have been a professional product designer, a teacher, a project manager, an art studio supervisor, a magazine editor, a program supervisor, and an entrepreneur twice over.  My last job in Las Vegas (I returned there after my 6 months alone in Seattle to pursue my relationship with Chris) was at a supported employment program for adults with disabilities.  It was in my 8 ½ years there (my longest ever employment) that I realized my full potential.  My versatility was a large part of the success the company has had.  I was that person that our director could go to with any idea she had and I would pull it together, almost out of nowhere with flying colors.  When we decided to return to Wisconsin, something amazing became very, very clear.  I knew I could do anything, but I was virtually unhireable.  My broad skill set and vast experiences were not likely to be found in any job description.  I have often told people if they couldn’t find a job, they should create one.  It was time to put that into practice.

Since moving to the homestead, I have added soapmaker and clothing artist to the list.  I am now considering getting my certification in Yoga instruction.  I am a wife, a mother, and I help in my community when I am needed, doing whatever interests me.   I raise animals, am learning about agriculture from my talented husband, write, and eventually I would like to teach sewing classes.  Our ultimate goal, if we can get that far, would be to open a Farmstay resort on our own property, ironically bringing me back full circle to my hospitality studies.

Homesteading has opened up a whole new world of possibilities, and seems to me to be the one thing that I can see myself doing for the next 45 years, if I am able to live that long.  It serves the multipotentialite in me perfectly through variety and limitless possibilities.  I’m finally able to say it’s what I do with nothing short of a lengthy description.

Author:
Angie Esler-Whelan

Side Note:  I watched a TED talk today by Emilie Wapnick that spurred this post.  It's one of the most eye-opening descriptions of myself and people who think like I do, where we are often left in a cloud of confusion within the society we reside.  If you would like to watch it, follow this link.  I hope it inspires you as much as it did me.

https://www.ted.com/talks/emilie_wapnick_why_some_of_us_don_t_have_one_true_calling
You can also visit Emilie's website for more posts at www.puttylike.com

I am not a clothing designer.  I actually don’t know much about clothing design, pattern drafting, or the current fashion industry.  I know how to sew well, but am mostly self-taught through exploration and trial and error, minus the handful of times as a kid when I sewed with my mom.  I have been touted by a friend in the fashion industry as “the best textile picker”, which is something I am proud of, and I have achieved master’s-degree-worthy applique skills (though merely in my own mind, no one in fashion education has ever told me that).  I have enough self-confidence to allow these things alone to lead me to developing my own brand of clothing, which I call Breed.

The truth is, however, that Breed didn’t start out about clothing at all, it was simply about creativity.  When the name “Breed” was chosen it was picked as a synonym for the phrase “to create”, and was simply about the art of making something.  Anything.  Clothes, jewelry, even people.  I wasn’t making children’s clothing at this time, but the transition was natural when my world went from being a young adult struggling to find herself in a corporate world, to embracing becoming an aunt, and eventually a mother.  And Breed fit, in so many ways, it was just perfect. 
I love making baby clothing.  Babies, to me, are the most beautiful people in the world.  They don’t have preconceived ideas about the world, and definitely not about fashion.  They are like little works of art, and we can “decorate” them however we want, and photograph them, and express our style in a way we may never chose to do for ourselves, for fear of judgement of “not fitting in”.  When you start having children you often get asked the question “when did you get baby fever?”.  My response, more often than not, is “I didn’t.  I got baby clothes fever”.

Fashion hasn’t always been my favorite expression of creativity, sometimes, even now, I don't know if it truly is.  Writing was my first passion, and probably should have been my first clue that I was not the average kid.  It, quite possibly, could have been my career.  When I was 9 I wrote an essay entitled “My Life as a Cat”.  It was a humorous piece about a day in the life of a cat.  It was one page of notebook paper, handwritten in pencil.  My 4th grade teacher loved it, and made a big deal about telling me that it was a wonderful piece of writing, and I was a promising writer.  That compliment alone fed my passion, and I started writing all the time.  Every day after school I spent time filling notebooks with stories about young girls and their struggle with being who they were.  The girls were often struggling to fit in, as I was, while wishing everyone else was more into standing out,  which is really contradictory, but the way I often felt.  One thing they all had in common was their clothes.  I loved to write detailed descriptions of their outfits, which were always the trendiest name brands, because, after all, that’s how you fit in, right?  By wearing the right clothes. 

Upon entering Junior High in the 7th grade I had one goal, to be popular.  To fit into the right crowd, get invited to the right social gatherings, go shopping with the popular girls, and be on the right teams.  I wanted to be highly social, so I talked a lot.  Maybe too much, as I have decided in my adult years I am actually pretty socially awkward, and prefer to be alone with my thoughts.  Not to misinterpret this as I do not like people, quite to the contrary, I love people, I just do not feel like I always fit in.  But I am ok with that now, as I realize I would rather be anything but ordinary. 

Since David Bowie’s death, which often happens when a highly respected creative cultural figure passes on, I reflect on what makes a true artist.  He was bold, and brave.  He went “there”, time and time again, without hesitation.  His music and visual presentation of music videos was artistic in every way.  I truly respect his legacy, and want to be more like that.  It presents a struggle, as every day I still try to fit in in an effort to sell my creations, while wishing the world was more about standing out. 

So, I will never be a clothing designer, because there are things about me that won’t sell out to an industry of mass production that tells people they should all look the same. I struggle to find an audience that is as passionate as I am about clothing as an art, rather than a necessity.   I struggle with the concept of selling versus creating.  Most of my ideas stay in my head.  The ones that make it onto paper often find they are stuck there, because I have put production above artistry on more than one occasion.  I struggle, because beyond my desire to sell enough to make a living, I want to see my art displayed on the little people I create it for, the little people I want to “decorate”.  But, in this moment of clarity about what it means to be a true artist, I am determined.  Making clothes is my current endeavor, and I will do it with as much passion as I wrote my first novel at the age of 15.  I am committed to put out there my best work, collections as I see them in my head, not what can be made the quickest or most fits in with current culture.  I am committed to put together clothing that is more art than necessity, and to find the audience that appreciates the concept that the art we love doesn’t have to be hung on a wall, exclusive to those who enter our homes.  It can be worn, and it can be captured in the daily lives of our greatest creations, our beautiful children, and ourselves.
 
Breed on.