Work is where it’s at… or is it?
I’ve worked since I was about 15.
I first started as a receptionist at my family’s church, plus some babysitting gigs. Then I switched to working at the rare books department of the nearby university. I worked there summers for years, including while I was in college. During my time on my own college campus I worked 2 or sometimes 3 jobs at a time. When I graduated from college I had my first “real” job within a month of graduation. Even in law school I worked throughout, despite being warned I should just focus on academics. Then I worked as a lawyer for a lot of years.
Paid work is what I was raised to expect and have lived for the vast majority of my life. The only times I’ve ever not worked a paying job have been my junior year abroad when I had no work visa, and now.
Being a stay at home mom is work for sure. I cook, I clean, I wipe small butts, I feed children and break up their arguments and play with them and take them to appointments.
With our lot, there are a LOT of appointments because both of our full time girls are medically fragile with significant medical complications. So there’s a lot of physical therapy and the dentist, an orthopedic surgeon and two cardiologists, an audiologist and an ophthalmologist, an optometrist and a geneticist and of course a pediatrician. They both have academic needs, so there are CPSE and CSE meetings with the school. Then we also have horseback riding lessons for the youngest, which are therapeutic and amazing, and are breaking our bank. Plus we now have Arabic school on Sundays. Did I mention we live in podunk so everything is at least a half hour away? Family visits and the geneticist and the horseback riding lessons are each an hour away.
Parenting these two kids is no small task. I forget sometimes just how much it all is, but my calendar is loaded and we never ever have totally unscheduled days.
On top of all the parenting work, I have medical issues that cause significant fatigue and require me to sleep at least 10 hours a night and nap 2 hours a day. Every day. If I go without a nap I’m a wreck for 2 days. It’s just what my body does in response to at least 2 autoimmune diseases, plus fibromyalgia.
There is no way on god’s green earth that I could hold down a real job right now. I have nothing left! The fatigue alone is making working impossible. I have a tiny gig as a paid secretary for a planning board that I enjoy, but it pays less than $2000 a year and is very part time. It’s all I can manage.
Despite knowing I’m ridiculously busy and paid work isn’t possible right now, I am wrestling with demons about not working. I mean, I’m working. I’m working my tail off. But it’s not a paid job. Its not work. It’s not what I was raised to expect of myself. My mother worked from the time I started school until she retired many years later. My father always worked, often miserable jobs he hated, because work was what was expected to support the family. For years as an adult, I was the breadwinner of my family because working as an attorney paid a lot better than what my husband was doing.
When I quit work almost a year ago I didn’t expect my ego to take the hit it has and my fears to skyrocket about being “dependent” and a “burden” on my family. We are barely afloat financially. That’s not helping my guilt. Shouldn’t I do something to help my family financially?
A while ago I swallowed my pride and applied for disability. With my needing to sleep every day mid day I can’t hold down a real paid gig. I can’t do an ounce more than I’m already doing. But disability applications take months and months to process and I know I’ll get an initial denial and have to appeal it (80% of initial applications are denied), so heaven only knows how long it’s going to take before I even have a real answer about disability eligibility, much less potential income from it. So in the mean time, we are just carrying on and doing our best to make ends meet.
Not working working is a mind f*ck of epic proportions. I’m exhausted but earning nothing. I’m constantly moving but never caught up. I’m not using my brain’s power to produce anything or provide anything and I’m terribly afraid it’s a waste. I’m not helping my family financially and I feel like a failure for that.
If my husband gets home from work and the house is a mess because the kids have been Tasmanian devils, I get down on myself for not doing a good enough job at my “job.” I feel like I should be able to keep the house always neat since I’m home. Deep down I know that’s sheer lunacy – anyone who has met my kids knows that. They’re a lot. News flash: they’re always Tasmanian devils! And I am perpetually exhausted and trying my damndest to keep up and do what I can.
Crawling out
So how do I crawl out of this weird limbo I’m in? I don’t really have an answer other than to note that I’m ok, and remind myself of that regularly.
I think that when I quit my job last November, it was a mix of burnout (years and years worth of built up ADHD and autistic burnout) and my health problems. Now? It’s still a little lingering burnout a year later, but it’s better. My health ain’t letting me stay awake as many hours as I’d like or hold down a real job, but it’s allowing me a good life still and I’m grateful for that. My depression is in remission. My anxiety is hugely reduced now that I understand most of what I was experiencing wasn’t anxiety, it was overstimulation.
Almost a year after quitting lawyering, I feel like I can finally take a deep breath and let it out and not feel any concomitant waves of panic. I joke that I’m a recovering Catholic and lawyer, but it’s not really a joke.
Mentally, I’m doing better than I ever have. I’m generally a happy optimist. I’m doing good work raising these crazy beloved kids, and that is something that really matters in the grand scheme of things.
I’m going to beat this thing that tells me I’m inadequate because I’m not earning money. I will conquer this damn capitalist societal pressure to always produce something with my time and brain. I’m going to be okay with being instead of producing.
It’s a long slow journey but I’m getting there.
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