It’s kind of like pulling a band-aid off. You feel that twinge of nerves, you know it’s going to hurt, but you go ahead & yank anyway.
So.
I am unemployed.
YANK.
It was unexpected.
YANK.
(also? ouch.)
.
More to come after coffee & getting dressed & figuring out my first day as a temporary stay-at-home-momma.
I’m really busy these days.
It hits me when I lay down at night & my hips ache so badly & I wonder why I’m so tired. I’m busy.
& I feel like I’m losing out on life.
Dramatic much? But I spend 9 hours a day behind a computer, trying to make sense of my project manager & the boss man’s travel schedule. I spend 2-3 hours per day in my car, trapped in bumper-to-bumper traffic. I get home & throw on dinner, try to soak up time with Harrison, but the moment he is in pajamas I am back the the grind of taking out trash, picking up toys, & making the house presentable just in case they schedule a showing. Just in case.
My one outlet, writing & sharing my thoughts & capturing them on film (albeit roughly), feels bone dry & I can’t help but fear if my lack of inspiration comes from lack of living. My friend Nish often describes her blog as the spill-over of life & I’ve always felt the same – my blog holds all of the emotions & thought processes that I cannot keep to myself. But these days, I feel like I’m on autopilot.
We race out the door every morning; my hair is flying & 75% of the time I have forgotten makeup, so I have yet to capture my attempt at growing my style.
The sun is down when I get home, so every night is a game of chase through the living room or vrooming cars around my ankles while I cook.
We did not take a winter long weekend to the mountains this year due to finances.
I see my friends grow & inspire & be viral & I shake my head at the emptiness of my own journal notes. I’m being left behind.
I have no idea what’s happening with Zooey Dash-a-whatever or the other Kar-dash-a-whatever’s because I don’t have cable. I have now been demoted to Former Pop Culture Princess.
I order clothes & Christmas presents & hell, even groceries online.
Some mothers ache for more interaction & more rigid schedule, but I long for days of a lazier pace & more sunshine with my tiny guy.
I just don’t know how to find it quite yet.
It’s been a hard few months & I haven’t been able to do the “full disclosure” thing on my blog in awhile. Which is leading the biggest writer’s block I’ve had since…well, since I started this whole blogging gig. Because I write something & them I’m all, “Well, that won’t make sense without the backstory” or “People are going to judge the hell out of that when they don’t know the reason behind it” & then I stay quiet. It’s maddening.
So.
In October, Doug was laid off when the company he worked for closed with no warning. There was lots of swearing on our parts for about 48 hours, then we buckled down hard. I dropped out of my project management class to get a refund on the tuition. Doug filed for unemployment. I picked up the gig at Babble & any sponsored post offered (remember that week in December where there were three in a row?) to help alleviate the dip into our emergency fund. We put the house on the market, knowing that we’d be in deep water if Doug went jobless for more than a year. & in this economy, that fear was entirely possible.
Doug & I have always been conservative with our finances, which means that in any environment of uncertainty, we treat it like a crisis.
In the middle of November, we discovered that Doug & Harry were no longer covered by insurance, nor was COBRA an option. This was after we attended Harrison’s two-year check-up, complete with three vaccines. Plus six private speech therapy sessions. On top of missing half our income, now we had a heavy month of uninsured medical expenses.
note: money is hard in marriage, even when there is plenty. it gets harder when times are tight.
At the same time, we have been oddly happier than we’ve been in a long time. Living so intentionally has created a sense of empowerment & togetherness. Simplicity really is a lovely thing when $8.00 Netflix is all you can afford. Hell, we’ve even been having more sex because…what else are we going to do on a Saturday evening with no money? In early December, Doug praised my Type A personality because Harrison’s Christmas gifts were purchased before the lay-off, which meant Santa would visit. We took great joy in splurging for a $3.00 Almond Joy coffee creamer that Doug wanted to buy but felt was unecessary. The smile on his face made me all warm & fuzzy. He made me coffee the next morning with the creamer.
I wish I could do justice to how perfect that little $3.00 creamer was for making us smile & realizing that something small to share was even better than a dozen roses or a new set of golf clubs or even a vacation.
Things began looking up again as my new insurance kicked in & the boys were covered again. We had good feedback on our house. Doug had several good interviews and began helping his old coworker start-up a company under a new investor (it launched this past week! he is gainfully employed again!). I made a bonus & we were able to afford a few Christmas splurges. I still adore my new job. Then Doug’s dad got sick & everything has turned into a bigger ball of stress since then.
The other night, driving in the dark for an hour with Harrison screaming for his Auntie, I thought I might be reaching a breaking point. I felt like I was constantly working, never shutting off, with the weight of everything on my shoulders. I felt that old nemesis trying to creep in, those choking thoughts that pull me under. You deserve this stress, your baby doesn’t love you, you’re a distracted wife, you have a bitter heart, you’ll never get it right…I think the worst part is that even when I feel good & stable, there is this prodigal twisty part of my soul just lurking.
Waiting for me to slip. Waiting for me to give just an inch.
But I’m not giving an inch. I’m fucking making it after all, okay?
.
p.s. we are so lucky, so thankful that doug was able to get a paycheck again after only two months of unemployment. we are bursting with gratitude towards my new job & the timeliness of babble’s job offer, which gave us security the past few months. my heart goes out to anyone that feels that stress longer than us & i know there are plenty of you out there. i wish there was more i could do other than simply say that i understand.
p.p.s. it feels so good to get this off my shoulders. like my body just took a huge cleansing breath.
photo
People see the new year differently. A new start, a continuation, perhaps the end (especially in 2012).
So they count it different ways. Numbers on the scale, resolutions written in ink, goals scratched in journals, or one word.
I have been silent this week because I do not know how to begin 2012. How do I begin with one word when I want to strive for so many words? How do I narrow that down? How do I resolve to get healthy before growing our family again without sounding cliche, all while waiting with anxious breath for one person to fall in love with our home?
The past year I fell in love with motherhood & battled demons & changed jobs & took on my first hard-core paid writing gig. We balanced on a fence throughout most of the year, waiting for chips to fall & our lives to finally settle. Some of them have, some of them haven’t, & I’ve found my voice oddly silent during these times. Maybe that’s maturity & wisdom that being 28 in 2011 brought me & will continue teaching as I turn 29 in 2012. Maybe it’s that little piece of me that keeps changing & growing & spinning bigger to where it’s not such a little piece anymore…it’s me.
The silly. The mother & wife. The spiritual. The career woman & homemaker. The blasphemous. The girl that struggles with life & contentedness & body image, who loves pretty pictures & yellow roses & yes, a good set of shapewear.
p.s. i have scribbled down words & resolutions & goals. i’ll be sharing soon.
As I said a wee bit ago, we do Santa in our home.
When I wrote that little manifesto, I held so much anticipation in my heart for the coming Christmas Eve.
That night, we sang by candlelight in church & ate spaghetti with family around the dining room table. Later than normal, Doug & I tucked a very sleepy Harrison into bed with Christmas jammies & The Polar Express. After changing into comfy clothes & pouring whisky & gingers, we sat down on the living room rug with Santa’s presents. We began with the most challenging piece, Harrison’s play kitchen. Over the next two hours, Doug & I laughed & talked about the past year. How much Harrison has grown, how he will love his new toys, how this season has been so amazing with his ability to participate. With Christmas carols playing in the background, I really got it.
Watching the presents come together, presents I bought for my little boy, carefully selecting what I thought he might like. I realized that these twelve hours between bedtime & Christmas morning were a parent’s best part of the year. The sacrifice & joy & complete infatuation with my child, all coming together on one day. When we laid down a little past midnight, I felt more excitement as a parent than as a child on Christmas, simply imagining his reaction at the gifts by the tree.
& Harrison’s smile on Christmas Day did not disappoint.
p.s. there are 360 days until harry is three at christmas & i cannot freakin’ wait.
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