Do you know who you are?

Let's take the time to find out, shall we?

Well, well, well. Fancy meeting you here. You’re getting this email because you signed up on my very high-tech website, kinsey.fm, for updates on my next move. Either that or you’re one of my exes and I signed you up to remind you how great I’m doing. Seriously, I’m doing great.

The last couple of weeks were a whirlwind of farewells, soul-searching walks on the West Side, and Twitter threads (I’m sorry and I know I’m part of the problem) as I transitioned out of a job that had, in essence, become my entire personality.

I started at Morning Brew on July 16, 2018, and in each of the ~973 days I counted as an employee, I worked my tail off writing, editing, and building newsletters and, of course, taking Business Casual from nothing to something incredibly special.

Now, I don’t work there anymore. I’m “self-employed,” but I will readily admit that I don’t really know what that entails. What I do know is this: Working for yourself is simultaneously a privilege and a burden. I’m getting 8 hours of sleep every night, but I’ve been forced to spend some alone time in my own head...more on that shortly.

But first, some quick programming notes:

1. I quit my Morning Brew job two weeks ago. I’m about to explain my experience divorcing my personality from my job description. But let me be very clear: I am not not working.

2. My new venture is under construction and I’m very excited to share more with you (soon) about the business building process, the woes of independent creatorship, and all the dirty details of my next big thing.

3. That’s why I have this Substack—I promise not to abuse the send button with mindless updates, but I’m looking forward to mindfully sharing in the process of starting over. I get my best ideas and feedback from all of you, and I hope you’ll continue to offer your thoughts by hitting respond.

Sound good? Good. The vibes already feel superb in here. [Cue new intro tagline that I’m actively workshopping.]

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What I’m Thinking About

I’ll be 27 in a few months. Recently, the knowledge that my next birthday means a doubling of the cost of a yearly Soho House membership hit me like a Mack Truck. 27? Old? Too old? At least by the standards of those mostly baseless but really-well-dressed arbiters of culture?

Yes.

Now, before any of you tell me that I’m still an infant or that I won’t hit my physical prime as a woman until my mid-30s...I know you’re right, and I still feel really young most days (as long as I don’t drink gin the night before). But with each passing week, we’re all getting closer to the twilight years, no matter if your next birthday is your 27th or your 87th.

That thought has played over and over again in my head this week. Like an existential remix of “Peaches.” So much has changed in the last several months—I want to look back on this year and this season of life and this tremendous transformation and feel that I accomplished something meaningful—and that it wasn’t just work.

Here’s where you might expect me to list all the non-professional tasks of bettering myself I’ve ticked off during my break from the working world. And here’s where I tell you there is no list. I’ve had plenty to do, and yet I’ve been pretty lost since I quit my job.

Deprived of the corporate structure that’s run my life for the better part of the last decade, I’ve felt completely bereft of a personality. Who am I without a job? Can I accomplish anything without someone—a boss or an editor or a producer—telling me how to do it? Did all those interviews and Twitter threads break me a little, and can I ever put myself back together?

And perhaps most terrifying of all...do I really know who I am? Or am I just an amalgamation of tiny flecks of personality I’ve picked up from the hundreds of people I’ve interviewed over the last four years? Not a star in the sense we all secretly or not so secretly crave to become, but in the literal sense—am I actually just a collection of pieces of clouds and dust from other, larger celestial beings?

Petrified to admit this, but the answer might be yes. Also petrified to reference a years-old meme in my first send of this email, but this was me with everyone I interviewed:

I’ve spent years devoting hours every day to getting to know other people. It was part of my job—know them better than they know themselves. That’s how you ask good questions in a podcast interview. That’s how you deliver.

But what was I losing in that delivery? Had I allowed the part of my personality that was devoted to working at a hot startup to overtake all the rest of the things that once made me me? It’s a question we all face, podcast host or not: What are any of us giving up when we allow our LinkedIn description to dictate who we are as people?

My honest answer: A lot. I don’t really have any hobbies. When I go on first dates, I describe myself in terms of my profession. “I host a podcast. Well, hosted a podcast. Now I’m starting my own show. I used to write for fun, but I don’t really have time for it anymore. Would you like me to pass the bread or maybe tell you about the time I went live with Mark Cuban?” (Yes, I am single.)

Here’s the thing. My work is absolutely part of who I am, especially as someone who has been described professionally as a “personality” on more than one occasion. I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished through the work I’ve done intentionally, energetically, and ambitiously.

But how sad would it be if that work was all there really is to me?

In the absence of “normal” social interactions this Covid year, that reality has crept in like a bad sunburn. You applied SPF earlier. You think you’re fine until your sister points out how red your shoulders are. I attempted to maintain my personality despite grueling startup hours and no social life. I thought I was fine until I downloaded Clubhouse.

• Explanation: I’m never more aware of the fact that who I am might just be a byproduct of what I get paid to do than when I listen to the NYU girls roasting tech guys on Clubhouse. 

• One of the rules of the room? Describe yourself, but don’t pitch your startup or talk about your job. I break out in secondhand hives whenever someone starts shooting their shot because I’ve correlated so much of who I am to what I do. What would I say if I were brought up on stage?

When you can’t say what you do for a living, who are you? That’s the question I want to answer in this weird in-between time before my next job becomes my entire personality. Who am I?

I’m not getting any younger, so starting today I’m endeavoring to find out. I’m determined to make the answer more than just what I get paid to do. I think it’d be pretty cool if you joined me. Because even if you aren’t taking time to recuperate after four virtually breakless years of deeply challenging work, this year has changed us all. Let’s get to know ourselves again.

Here’s how I’m starting:

1. I’m reading memoirs from women who’ve faced similar existential challenges around my age. I started with Everything I Know About Love by Dolly Alderton. Right now I’m reading Little Weirds by Jenny Slate.

2. I’m writing for fun again and I’m keeping an audio journal (podcast habits die hard okay).

3. I’m purging my Twitter and Instagram of any follows that make me feel bad about myself. Consider this your final warning if you’re ever Tweeted about how many hours you worked in a week.

4. I’m trying new things as often as possible. Recently, my idea of trying new things has been cooking more. Hoping “trying new things” works itself up to something more groundbreaking, but I’m not rushing the process. For now, my roommate and I are enjoying my recently perfected jammy eggs.

5. And finally, I’m building something new. Staring at a blank page has forced me to rethink what works, what doesn’t work, and how I can bring the best, most self-aware version of me to the table. Sure, it’s my new job and I hope to God I make money doing it someday, but I promise “cofounder and chief content officer” will only be part of my personality...not the whole entire thing.

So...who are you without your job? Hit reply and tell me everything, write it down and keep it to yourself, or send your thoughts to trusted friends. Most importantly, take it anywhere.

I’m really glad you’re along for this ride, and I can’t wait to share just as much about what comes next personally as I do about what comes next professionally. Both might kick my ass, but at least I’m having fun.

—Kinsey

P.S. You’ve made it this far—might as well join in on my Instagram Live tomorrow (Saturday) at 11:30 am ET. Join the fun and shoot me a follow here.

P.P.S. I’m hosting a Clubhouse room with everyone’s favorite recovering project manager on Tuesday at 8:30 pm ET and I’d love to have you there. Check it out.

See y’all soon.