A peek under the circus tent
My ex-boss made me realize something i'd never thought about.
First, my ex-boss: she's brilliant, beautiful, motivated and inspiring. When she quit, I teared up, right there in the church conference room in front of my coworkers, and not just because she's my friend, but because the woman was tailormade for this job--and I needed her there. Cuz she's awesome sauce. ANYWAY. We met for pizza while our girls were at girl scouts, and she said she's rethinking what she wants to do with her life, that she may try something totally new. She loves cooking and architecture--I didn't know about the architecture thing, so I was fascinated and supportive. Imagine pushing 40 and starting a different path, based solely on your passions. I knew it was possible, I just didn't realize until that moment how impossible it was for me.
But here's why. No pity party required; i'm gonna try to do this without any immense self-deprecation, but it'll be hard because, well fuck, it's a little sad. First, finances. We've never had a lot, AND I always need to point out that it's not really our fault. We haven't made any ridiculous financial decisions--well, maybe a few--but we've always pulled through, because i'm literally a financial wizard, starry hat and all. Through job changes and other life BS, we've managed to stay in our house, complete with a plethora of animals. We eat pizza someone else made every week, and my kids have good Christmases. But our house is small and furnished more like a fresh-from-college bachelor pad. We embrace hand-me-downs and thrift shops and discount grocery stores, and my kids get reduced school lunches and free health insurance. Amidst all that, my husband works full time for a small company that understands his family's unique needs, and I work part-time as a teacher, part-time as a crafter/small business owner, seasonally at the Renaissance Faire, and I try to keep up with hair-painting and cutting techniques in case I ever have to actually use my cosmetology license and work in a salon. I didn't get to the point of this, yet, did I?
My kids are 11 and 14, old enough to be latchkey kids. However, due to her health issues, my daughter (11) can't be home alone, and my son (14) is still learning to take care of his own damn self, so I gratefully took a job at their former preschool because it would allow me to be home when they are (then low and behold, I realized I was good at it! and I love it!). My daughter has roughly two specialist appointments every month, two therapies twice a week, and I have a job that understands this and can accommodate me.
The bottom line is that our lives are about survival. We're working ourselves into early graves trying to maintain what we have, feed our kids, keep them clean. I can't sit and think about what i'd rather be doing because any other schedule just. wont. work. I'm like those poverty-stricken, third world moms you hear about, taking in laundry and sewing and living on lentils to make ends meet. Ok, that's a bit of a stretch, but I like reading about those women 'cause it's kind of simple and romantic, too.
My every waking moment is focused on making this shit show work--properly caring for my daughter, properly guiding my son out of the land of bad grades, knife obsession and porn, keeping the house looking like something CPS wouldn't be concerned about and making enough money to pay for it all. At the end of the day, I need wine to settle down, and I don't like that either, but what the hell. It's a fucking circus around here, and sometimes I get too tired to ring-lead anymore.
So I make my coffee, feed the dog, medicate the girl, pop my meds and soldier on. Because it's the only option. Just keep swimming, Dory said.
I'm sensing I need to squeeze some gratitude out of this shit sponge of a life, and i'm looking for a way to do that. I'm into mojo, new age, prayer, affirmations, The Secret and all of that, and I've dug myself out of pits before. I just feel like this one is deeper, the walls are slipperier, and sometimes i'm too tired to try, so I sit at the bottom and grumble about the hand I was dealt. And I know that that way is beneath me--I'm better than that, and I need a way out. Hence my presence here. Maybe this will help, this writing thing. Maybe not. But it's worth a try. Thanks for reading.
First, my ex-boss: she's brilliant, beautiful, motivated and inspiring. When she quit, I teared up, right there in the church conference room in front of my coworkers, and not just because she's my friend, but because the woman was tailormade for this job--and I needed her there. Cuz she's awesome sauce. ANYWAY. We met for pizza while our girls were at girl scouts, and she said she's rethinking what she wants to do with her life, that she may try something totally new. She loves cooking and architecture--I didn't know about the architecture thing, so I was fascinated and supportive. Imagine pushing 40 and starting a different path, based solely on your passions. I knew it was possible, I just didn't realize until that moment how impossible it was for me.
But here's why. No pity party required; i'm gonna try to do this without any immense self-deprecation, but it'll be hard because, well fuck, it's a little sad. First, finances. We've never had a lot, AND I always need to point out that it's not really our fault. We haven't made any ridiculous financial decisions--well, maybe a few--but we've always pulled through, because i'm literally a financial wizard, starry hat and all. Through job changes and other life BS, we've managed to stay in our house, complete with a plethora of animals. We eat pizza someone else made every week, and my kids have good Christmases. But our house is small and furnished more like a fresh-from-college bachelor pad. We embrace hand-me-downs and thrift shops and discount grocery stores, and my kids get reduced school lunches and free health insurance. Amidst all that, my husband works full time for a small company that understands his family's unique needs, and I work part-time as a teacher, part-time as a crafter/small business owner, seasonally at the Renaissance Faire, and I try to keep up with hair-painting and cutting techniques in case I ever have to actually use my cosmetology license and work in a salon. I didn't get to the point of this, yet, did I?
My kids are 11 and 14, old enough to be latchkey kids. However, due to her health issues, my daughter (11) can't be home alone, and my son (14) is still learning to take care of his own damn self, so I gratefully took a job at their former preschool because it would allow me to be home when they are (then low and behold, I realized I was good at it! and I love it!). My daughter has roughly two specialist appointments every month, two therapies twice a week, and I have a job that understands this and can accommodate me.
The bottom line is that our lives are about survival. We're working ourselves into early graves trying to maintain what we have, feed our kids, keep them clean. I can't sit and think about what i'd rather be doing because any other schedule just. wont. work. I'm like those poverty-stricken, third world moms you hear about, taking in laundry and sewing and living on lentils to make ends meet. Ok, that's a bit of a stretch, but I like reading about those women 'cause it's kind of simple and romantic, too.
My every waking moment is focused on making this shit show work--properly caring for my daughter, properly guiding my son out of the land of bad grades, knife obsession and porn, keeping the house looking like something CPS wouldn't be concerned about and making enough money to pay for it all. At the end of the day, I need wine to settle down, and I don't like that either, but what the hell. It's a fucking circus around here, and sometimes I get too tired to ring-lead anymore.
So I make my coffee, feed the dog, medicate the girl, pop my meds and soldier on. Because it's the only option. Just keep swimming, Dory said.
I'm sensing I need to squeeze some gratitude out of this shit sponge of a life, and i'm looking for a way to do that. I'm into mojo, new age, prayer, affirmations, The Secret and all of that, and I've dug myself out of pits before. I just feel like this one is deeper, the walls are slipperier, and sometimes i'm too tired to try, so I sit at the bottom and grumble about the hand I was dealt. And I know that that way is beneath me--I'm better than that, and I need a way out. Hence my presence here. Maybe this will help, this writing thing. Maybe not. But it's worth a try. Thanks for reading.
Comments
Post a Comment