My Fears - Let Me Show you them
Yesterday was my last day on the job.
I am officially unemployed.
I've worked since the time I was old enough to babysit. I then moved on to retail slave, cubicle warrior and restaurant rat. And while I've been really disgruntled with my job lately, the news of my replacement delivered this past Friday hit me like a rock between the eyes.
I can't shake the stay-at-home mom stigma. (*DISCLAIMER: Before I go further, I warn any SAHMs reading this that this is, indeed, MY domain, my thoughts, my feelings and I am entitled to them. I am not here to coddle the feelings of those who may find my posts offensive. If you don't like what I'm saying, there is plenty other reading material available on this site that you may find more palatable.) Certainly there is much honor and reward in choosing to be present for your children. I know this intellectually. But I am also a victim of false perceptions. Visions of the scrapbooking, stroller-pushing, overweight, unkempt, stay-at-home mom who is rarely seen without a basket of laundry under one arm, haunts me. Already I have no time to consider my wardrobe. Who cares? Already I disregard the grays peeking out from my roots. Who has time? Already I am too tired to consider writing like I said I was going to start doing once this day came.
And will being unemployed reduce my adult conversations to child development theories and the best way to get a ketchup stain out of a onesie? Am I beholden to coffee clutching and galavanting through Walmart as a means of daytime entertainment for myself?
I didn't realize how much of my career became my identity. I'm experiencing something akin to phantom limb syndrome.
I am officially unemployed.
I've worked since the time I was old enough to babysit. I then moved on to retail slave, cubicle warrior and restaurant rat. And while I've been really disgruntled with my job lately, the news of my replacement delivered this past Friday hit me like a rock between the eyes.
I can't shake the stay-at-home mom stigma. (*DISCLAIMER: Before I go further, I warn any SAHMs reading this that this is, indeed, MY domain, my thoughts, my feelings and I am entitled to them. I am not here to coddle the feelings of those who may find my posts offensive. If you don't like what I'm saying, there is plenty other reading material available on this site that you may find more palatable.) Certainly there is much honor and reward in choosing to be present for your children. I know this intellectually. But I am also a victim of false perceptions. Visions of the scrapbooking, stroller-pushing, overweight, unkempt, stay-at-home mom who is rarely seen without a basket of laundry under one arm, haunts me. Already I have no time to consider my wardrobe. Who cares? Already I disregard the grays peeking out from my roots. Who has time? Already I am too tired to consider writing like I said I was going to start doing once this day came.
And will being unemployed reduce my adult conversations to child development theories and the best way to get a ketchup stain out of a onesie? Am I beholden to coffee clutching and galavanting through Walmart as a means of daytime entertainment for myself?
I didn't realize how much of my career became my identity. I'm experiencing something akin to phantom limb syndrome.