🪺 Glimmer Nest: Maintaining Professional Identity
When Your Office Has No Walls and No Hours
There's a distinct sound my laptop makes at 4 AM. It's not just the quiet hum of electronics warming up, but a particular kind of whisper that feels conspiratorial—like the machine and I are in on a secret together. Yes, most of the world is sleeping, but we've got work to do.
This early morning ritual has become oddly comforting. Working from my bed while the house rests in darkness, I transform the quiet hours before dawn into some of my most productive time. Between 4 AM and 8 AM, with only the glow of my screen and supported by a suitably fluffy comforter, I craft community challenges and posts, write articles for others, and prepare for client meetings that will happen much later, when others are fully awake.
The Rhythms of a Different Work Life
My professional life unfolds in fragments between caregiving responsibilities. These are unconventional hours that many traditional workplaces would find baffling. But these fragments, stitched together, create my workday.
My typical workday looks something like this:
🔘 4 AM–8 AM: Deep work from bed (writing, planning, email, graphic design)
🔘 8 AM–12 PM: Breakfast and homeschooling with my son (which currently can stretch to 2+ hours just for breakfast thanks to sudden onset - for him - of OCD and anxiety)
🔘 Afternoon: Blend of my son's independent learning activities and my meetings, followed by wind-down time and making and eating dinner
🔘 10 PM–1 AM: Additional writing and community project work
My career coaching appointments get sprinkled throughout the day, finding homes in the spaces between homeschooling activities and consultations with membership community leaders that need my help.
This schedule raises eyebrows when I describe it to others. "When do you sleep?" they inevitably ask. The answer varies day to day, but I've learned that 5-6 hours, though not ideal, is my sustainable minimum.
The Unseen Struggles of Transition
What many don't understand about careers like mine is the invisible labor of transitioning between roles. In a traditional office, you might shift from a marketing meeting to financial planning with a brief walk down the hallway and a mental reset. In my world, I might transition from helping with a complex emotional anxiety moment with my son directly into a professional coaching session with barely a moment to reorient myself.
I've become adept at what I call "emotional wardrobe changes"—rapidly shifting my energy, focus, and even vocabulary as I move between caregiving and professional spaces. These transitions require a particular kind of mental dexterity that isn't taught but becomes essential when working alongside intensive caregiving.
Here's a snapshot of what this might look like:
🛟 11:42 AM: Helping my son work through anxiety about an unexpected change in routine.
🛟 11:57 AM: Quick bathroom break, splash water on face, reapply lipstick, three deep breaths.
🛟 12:00 PM: On Zoom with a client who needs strategic guidance on a career transition, while carefully listening and providing encouragement and resources.
That three-minute gap between roles doesn't appear on any timesheet, but it's some of the most important work I do—the invisible labor of compartmentalization that allows me to be fully/scatteredly present in both my personal and professional lives.
Education Meets Vocation: The Armchair Travel Approach
One way I've bridged my professional background with my caregiving responsibilities is through our "armchair travel" approach to homeschooling. Each week, my son and I explore a different country, integrating every subject area into this geographical framework. This method not only engages his interest but allows me to draw on my many years of experience as a librarian and as a person who just knows how to find things, even if they are a bit buried.
Living in a relatively remote coastal area of South Carolina means limited access to therapies and social skills groups, so we've had to get creative. We have options for "field trips," but I like to make sure he can take deeper dives into his special interests. Khan Academy's Pixar in a Box course has been a revelation—allowing us to cover science, math, art and language arts through my son's passion for drawing his favorite characters.
Our daily Spanish lessons on Duolingo have become a shared learning experience, helping me realize that perhaps my previous struggles with foreign languages weren't entirely my fault. If I get to watch a cute, green animated owl and other funny characters while learning Spanish, it seems to feel far less overwhelming than it did when I was in middle and high school filled with anxiety about memorizing dialogues. Oddly, I still remember my French ones...
Est-ce que vous êtes prêts à commander?
Oui. Nous voudrions une bouteille de vin rouge.
Bien sûr. Et pour le dîner, qu'est-ce que vous voudriez?
Pour commencer, je prendrai une salade verte. En plat principal, je voudrais le poulet cordon bleu.
Et vous, madame? Quelle est la spécialité du jour?
C'est un coq au vin. 🤣
Does anyone else have total recall of stress inducing memorization sagas as a core memory?
I love that I can learn a language with him with absolutely no pressure now! These educational strategies don't just serve my son's development—they create pockets of time where I can switch between homeschool facilitator and career coach or community consultant with relative ease. When he's absorbed in creating drawings inspired by our Pixar lessons, I might be able to take a client call or respond to community discussions. I love that we may be able to go on a walk as I return a brief call to a client … all while getting in some P.E. time for both of us!
Finding Identity Beyond Conventional Boundaries
One question I've wrestled with: How do I maintain a sense of professional identity when my work life is so thoroughly blended with my caregiving responsibilities?
For a while, I struggled with feeling "less than" compared to others I used to consider colleagues. Their LinkedIn profiles showed linear progression; mine reflected pivots, pauses, and reimaginings. They had office holiday parties; I had 3 AM writing sessions. They had performance reviews; I had to rely on client feedback and internal metrics to gauge my success.
But over time, I've come to recognize that maintaining professional identity isn't about mimicking conventional career structures. It's about creating new frameworks for understanding what professionalism means in unconventional contexts.
For me, this has included:
Creating work evidence that exists beyond my home
Even when much of my labor happens in private, at-home spaces or at our public library, I need tangible reminders that my work exists in the world. Publications, client testimonials, and community projects provide evidence of my professional impact that transcends my immediate environment. I often forget to collect this evidence and am trying to become better about it by setting quarterly reminders!
In fact, this Substack is very much a part of this for me as well as it being cathartic. I had a call just today with a fellow working mom who is thinking of coming on to Substack as a way to share her stories as her professional life and personal life also converge. She wants a creative outlet that also exists outside of her 9-5 where she is an administrator. I think recording our work in ways we can look back on and really remember all the things that go into what we do is powerful. It also helps with allaying those less helpful voices in our heads telling us we are invisible. We're not if we allow ourselves to be seen. I think the power comes from how we decide to share these bits of ourselves through our work, our shared thoughts and our voices.
Establishing firm boundaries where possible while sharing a bit of what I value
While much of my schedule is fluid by necessity, I've identified certain professional commitments that remain sacred. My 1:1 client sessions over the computer, for example, happen in my tiny office with a door that closes—a physical boundary that helps create a psychological one.
And, since it is my office and not a corporate cubicle, I do care about what surrounds me on my calls. I have art on the walls, photos of family, and I definitely rely on those reminders on the walls to help keep me in check, too. I value family. I value curiosity and creativity. I think it's important for my work environment to be conducive to work reflecting my values. I’m lucky enough to have a husband who can hang things in a beautiful way on the wall! I cannot hang anything straight. See below for a behind-the-scenes snapshot.
Honoring the professional value of adaptability
Rather than apologizing for my unconventional approach, I've learned to recognize that the adaptability required by my situation is itself a professional skill of value. The ability to transition quickly between roles, to work productively in fragmented time blocks, to maintain focus amidst unpredictability—these are competencies increasingly relevant in many professional contexts. I'm sure there are many other parents that do this and don't realize it's an in-demand skill. I'm lucky that each of my clients is aware (to some degree) of my realities. I know this because they ask about how I am doing, how my family is doing every time we talk. That was not always a perk of other places I worked. It's nice to pick who you work with!
The Soundtrack of Professional Adaptation
Music has always been my companion during these unusual work hours. For my pre-dawn work sessions, when I need to find focus while the rest of the house sleeps, I've often got my ear buds in. The gentle build of tracks helps me transition from sleep to productivity without the jarring effect of an alarm clock or strong coffee. Coffee is for later. 😉 ☕
When I'm lacking energy or struggling with my self-esteem, Sara Bareilles has my back. Her song "Brave" reminds me that maybe there's a way out of the cage where I sometimes feel trapped between roles—that letting the light in and letting my words fall out can be transformative. This unconventional professional life I've crafted might not look like others', but it takes courage to create and sustain. And on the hardest days, when transitions feel impossible, it helps to remember that everyone faces fears—I'm not alone in finding my brave.
Rethinking Rest as a Professional Practice
I recently discovered something that's transforming how I think about my professional sustainability, thanks to insights from my friend Laura Zug, who runs The Hive—a community for heart led community builders.
Laura shares this powerful perspective: "As community leaders, we're constantly holding space for others. But who's holding space for you?" She goes on to explain, "Rest isn't just stepping back. It's not just sleep or meditation or 'doing nothing.' It can actually be stepping INTO something that energizes you."
Laura beautifully describes our shared challenges as community leaders and caregivers: "We inspire vision, nurture belonging, and create harmony - all while keeping our own flame burning bright enough to light the way for others."
As she notes, "It's beautiful work, but it's demanding work. And in this digital age where disconnection often feels like the norm, the effort to maintain vibrant communities can leave us depleted."
In her announcement for an upcoming workshop, Laura highlights a simple but profound invitation from Maegan Megginson:
"Give yourself permission to rest and see what happens."
This statement is reshaping how I approach my fragmented professional life. I signed up for Meagan’s 10-day email series in which she helps you “cut through the noise and find your way back to yourself–without time blocking, hiring extra help, or trying to “just do less” and am loving it! I’m thrilled that Laura has connected with her.
I'm excited to share that Laura is hosting a special workshop inside The Hive on Friday, April 4. In this 90-minute deep dive, and Maegan will guide participants through the 7 types of rest we all need and help create a personalized Rest Menu with simple practices that allow us to show up fully for our professional and personal responsibilities without sacrificing ourselves.
The workshop is open to everyone—not just Hive members! Here's your link to register: https://app.heartbeat.chat/laurazug/events/EE6AEE
If you're interested in joining The Hive community on an ongoing basis, you can get a discount code from me. Just let me know if you’re interested in the comments.
As Laura reminds us in her invitation,
"You can't light the way if your own flame is flickering." 🕯️
This wisdom applies perfectly to those of us balancing professional identity with intensive caregiving responsibilities and, of course, anyone struggling with work/life demands.
The Unexpected Integration
Perhaps the most surprising discovery in this journey has been how my caregiving insights have enhanced my professional work, particularly in career coaching. Working with a son who didn't speak until age five—communicating instead through drawing and writing—has given me unique perspectives on alternative communication styles in professional settings, too.
When I coach neurodivergent clients navigating the workplace, I bring not just my professional training but lived experience with:
Finding alternative pathways when traditional ones aren't accessible
Recognizing and advocating for accommodations that enable success
Identifying strengths that may be overlooked in conventional assessments
Building sustainable routines that honor neurodivergent needs
If you are looking for a career coach for you or a loved one, feel free to pop onto my calendar to book a free discovery call. I'm happy to chat!
Similarly, when I work with other parents trying to maintain professional identity while caregiving, I can offer authentic guidance. I understand the complex dance of meeting multiple needs simultaneously, the guilt that can arise from divided attention, and the creative problem-solving required to build a meaningful career within real constraints. I feel lucky that I get to help people in these ways through my work.
The Reality Check
Let me be clear: this way of working is not without costs. The fragmentation of attention, the chronic sleep deficit, the lack of clear boundaries between work and home—these challenges are real and significant. Some days, the juggling act fails spectacularly. Meetings get rescheduled because of the unexpected. Completing projects on time can take finagling in creative ways that may not exist in other work environments.
But what I've learned is that acknowledging these realities isn't admitting defeat—it's embracing the wholeness of a life that includes both professional contribution and intensive caregiving. Neither diminishes the other; they exist in complex relationship, sometimes in tension, sometimes in harmony.
Looking Forward: Sustainable Professional Identity
I'm both hopeful and cautious about the future. The pandemic normalized remote work and flexible schedules in ways that benefit many caregivers. But truly inclusive professional environments require more than just flexibility—they need cultures that recognize the value of diverse work patterns and life circumstances.
For now, I'll continue crafting my professional identity in these unconventional spaces—typing quietly while the house sleeps, transitioning between roles with practiced attention, finding meaning in work that happens outside traditional boundaries. My office has no walls and no fixed hours, but the work that happens within it is no less valuable, no less professional, no less worthy of being appreciated. It's taken me a while to see that, but now I'm happy to help others see it for themselves!
Professional identity isn't about where or when you work. It's about the impact you create, the problems you solve, the value you bring—even when that happens from your bed while the world sleeps.
Here's to more restful sleeps amidst the good work,
How do you maintain your professional identity while balancing intensive caregiving responsibilities? What strategies have helped you? Share your experiences with our Glimmer Nest community by joining via the chat button below.
☕ This version of my newsletter will always be freely available with no paywall. If these resources and reflections on balancing career with caregiving have been valuable to you, you can support my continued work by buying me a coffee. Each cup helps create more content for our community of work-from-home parents.
My endless admiration for you, Kat. For carving your path so courageously and for writing about it so eloquently!
I am so grateful for those 4 AM async chitchats with you! 🥰