This is ridiculous ...

Sep 22, 2008 15:12

Warning: pathetic whine ahead.

I've just emailed my friend about whether there's any teaching available for the new semester. Now I know there probably isn't any; she told me when I went for the thrice-damned interview that there was only likely to be money available for part-time teachers for practical classes and guess what, they've already got new staff to teach the practical subjects that I used to do. People like the technician who knows how to work the studio but has never read the news, or recorded packages for broadcast, or covered a story for radio. People who know how to work the equipment, in other words, but who don't have the craft skills or the practical on-the-job experience that I have.

So I'm sitting here typing the email and I start crying again. Why??? Because it reminds me of why work is so important to me. How it's part of my identity, how it makes me the person I am. How my husband treats me differently when I'm earning money (I know it shouldn't make a difference to him but it does). How I want to contribute to the family in a financial way, because that's where I can point to the net pay and say, "Look what I did this month." You can't do that with hot, home-cooked dinners that are eaten, or dishes that are washed and put away only to be used again, or rooms that are tidied only to be messed up, or housework of any sort that's undervalued and forgotten about - except when you don't do it, of course, then everyone complains.

How every time I want to buy something for myself, especially now in the credit crunch, I have to think, "Is it justified?" Because if I'm not bringing in money, I don't feel like I should be taking money from the budget. And I know that's crap, but that's how I feel right now. I feel worthless. Worth-less. Devalued. All because I'm not earning.

How did I come to do this to myself? I can argue my case; I can point to the money we saved by having me stay at home to look after the kids (the PhD was wonderfully helpful there, oh yes, except of course I never actually achieved the bloody doctorate in the end). But when it comes down to it, that's just a specious argument because society itself doesn't value women who stay at home. Heck, *I* don't value myself for staying at home. And because I don't value myself, I don't achieve as much as I could around the house ... and the vicious spiral continues.

Having my mother-in-law say to my mum, "*She*'s not working, so *she* should be keeping the house tidier!" just makes me feel even worse.

I want to work, to earn money, to get back that sense of self again. I just want to do work that I enjoy, that pays me a reasonable amount of money and that allows me to put my talents to best use. I'd rather not get stuck in any old job because, heck, I'm 44; I have qualifications; I have 27 years of workplace experience. I think that's worth something. I took care, while the kids were babies, to keep my CV active. Every year of the last 13 is covered by some sort of part-time work, mostly teaching or lecturing. I thought that would be an advantage, but I am painfully coming to realise that it is NOT.

I've not been entirely negative in my thinking. I could go back to freelance journalism, writing articles for anyone who'd pay for them. So what's stopping me?

Quite simply, confidence.

I've lost my confidence ... in myself. In my abilities, in my work ethic, in just picking up the phone and pitching an idea to an editor. And the only person who can get me out of this is myself. But when you feel worthless in every sense of the word, how do you get the confidence in yourself to do something about it?

Anyway, I feel a wee bit better for writing this. It's entirely self-pitying, of course, and I could just privacy-protect it and keep it to myself, but I would love to know if other women out there feel the same. And that's why I'm taking the unusual step (for me) of not friends-locking this post.

Feel free to comment.

work

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