revelation
I realized why I fell into the abyss this week. It's been two months since I stopped working--full-time, for pay. After the first flush of hopeful interviews, the anger and tedium of application for unemployment, the rushing back and forth to help my parents, the changeover from school year to summer... the new normal is here, and it's scary.
My younger son commented on how nothing has changed. We've tried to keep it that way for them, scrounging and borrowing money for camp and summer entertainments, staying cheerful about de-cluttering and cleaning the house. They don't see the little economies--no Balticon this year, no Fireman's Carnival, no Irish Festival. Possibly no Renn Faire, or maybe only one day. The substitutions at the grocery, the lack of CSA produce, the reduction in eating out. The month without health insurance (due to bureaucracy mainly but no doctor visits because of having to pay up front and only maybe getting reimbursed.) Little stuff at this stage, but it's wearing. The big stuff looms before us, like a mountain range in the distance, a distance we can't accurately judge. We trudge forward.
The fact is that I don't want another job. I hated my old job, I enjoy the part-time work I'm doing, but I suspect it's not going to be enough.
It would be enough if R's job, and his health, was stable.
It might be enough if there were no kids involved; at least I'd be more willing to take the risk.
Familial relationships are held together with fraying string. There is shouting, and door slamming. The fear is like a riptide. Calm on the surface, deadly underneath.
Part of me wants a job offer, somewhere, anywhere, that I can go and do, by myself. I long for solitude and work that fills every moment.
My heart breaks when I look at younger son and think how much he would change in a year, or more. A year I might not see. #1 is transitioning to adulthood but still needs support. Monetary, which I'm no longer sure of providing. Emotional, which I possibly could do at a distance. R is overwhelmed by everything. I worry about them without me. I worry they'll do fine without me.
I worry. I fear. I apply. I interview. I get shot down at various places in the process. I'm lucky I had savings. No, I was wise to put money away. I hoard it, fearful it may have to last a long, long time. I wish I was older. I wish I was younger.
I wish this had never happened.
I'm glad, glad, glad it did.
I'm still here. I'm alive. The rest is negotiable.
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My younger son commented on how nothing has changed. We've tried to keep it that way for them, scrounging and borrowing money for camp and summer entertainments, staying cheerful about de-cluttering and cleaning the house. They don't see the little economies--no Balticon this year, no Fireman's Carnival, no Irish Festival. Possibly no Renn Faire, or maybe only one day. The substitutions at the grocery, the lack of CSA produce, the reduction in eating out. The month without health insurance (due to bureaucracy mainly but no doctor visits because of having to pay up front and only maybe getting reimbursed.) Little stuff at this stage, but it's wearing. The big stuff looms before us, like a mountain range in the distance, a distance we can't accurately judge. We trudge forward.
The fact is that I don't want another job. I hated my old job, I enjoy the part-time work I'm doing, but I suspect it's not going to be enough.
It would be enough if R's job, and his health, was stable.
It might be enough if there were no kids involved; at least I'd be more willing to take the risk.
Familial relationships are held together with fraying string. There is shouting, and door slamming. The fear is like a riptide. Calm on the surface, deadly underneath.
Part of me wants a job offer, somewhere, anywhere, that I can go and do, by myself. I long for solitude and work that fills every moment.
My heart breaks when I look at younger son and think how much he would change in a year, or more. A year I might not see. #1 is transitioning to adulthood but still needs support. Monetary, which I'm no longer sure of providing. Emotional, which I possibly could do at a distance. R is overwhelmed by everything. I worry about them without me. I worry they'll do fine without me.
I worry. I fear. I apply. I interview. I get shot down at various places in the process. I'm lucky I had savings. No, I was wise to put money away. I hoard it, fearful it may have to last a long, long time. I wish I was older. I wish I was younger.
I wish this had never happened.
I'm glad, glad, glad it did.
I'm still here. I'm alive. The rest is negotiable.
This entry was originally posted at http://vjs2259.dreamwidth.org/374269.html. Please comment there using OpenID.