Waffles Aren’t Just for Breakfast

A couple of weeks ago, right around when we started toying with the DC idea, my husband had a phone interview with a company in CA. A friend of his from HS works there and has been trying to get him to apply there since before he even lost his job back in Rochester. Finally we agreed he might as well see what happens. Well, the first interviewer liked him enough to pass his information further down the line, and now he has a second (phone) interview lined up for later this week. If that goes well too, they’ll be wanting to fly him out there to interview in person either later this month or early next month.

This whole turn of events has led to many late-night, long-drive, dinner-time, and telephone (while I’m on breaks at work) conversations between the two of us, weighing the pros and cons of this possibility from every imaginable angle. They say opportunity doesn’t knock twice, but this is definitely multiple knocks at this point. In the past, we’d ruled it out because O already had a decent job, and then because we didn’t want to move so far away. It always felt like a last-resort option. But even though we have definitely not exhausted all other possibilities, I do have to wonder how long this opportunity will realistically stick around.

As I consider this possibility for our family, I hear the voices of other people in our lives echoing in my head. I hear a lot of “shoulds,” and it’s difficult not to let those potential opinions color my perceptions. On the other hand, is “because I don’t want to!” a solid enough reason to say no, if the job is offered to him in the end?

Theoretically this job would offer us the financial freedom to visit home more often than we can from here, even though CA is further from NY than FL is. But how much more hassle would the flights be, especially when compared to our previous goal of moving to DC (from where we could also drive home relatively easily)?

Even if he is offered the job and we decide that he should take it, it doesn’t have to be forever. But how many times do I really want to uproot my entire life and move out of state, before finally settling someplace for the foreseeable future?

I don’t know. I just don’t know.

Digging Out of my Rut

Starting tomorrow, I begin a new (temporary) path.  I’ll be working outside of my home, full-time, for the first time since 2001.  In the past eight years, I’ve finished two college degrees, held two part-time jobs and a few work-from-home and/or volunteer positions, and birthed and cared for a now-almost-two-year-old little boy.  I haven’t worked in any kind of office since my son was born, and I haven’t worked a full 40-hour week since before I (re)started college.

Yes, I’m nervous.  I’m also excited.  Even before we moved to Florida, I had been wanting a change.  I have loved the past two years of being home to care for my son, but I was ready for something different.  Then, the plan had been that I would try to find something part-time back in NY, and put him in a day-care program for those part-days.

Then when everything fell apart on us in July and we made the decision to move down here, we discussed the possibility of me being the bread-winner and my husband being the stay-at-home parent. Of course, it was all just theoretical until one of us actually landed some kind of gainful employment. And that happened officially on Friday. I begin tomorrow on a temporary assignment scheduled to last through mid-January.

So yes, I’m excited for the change, but nervous about starting something new. I’m looking forward to the weekly paycheck, but concerned about how my son and husband will fare without me for ten (!) hours every day. I feel like a schoolgirl again, on an early September evening. I’ve picked out my clothes, packed my bag, and even bought a new purse (because my old one wasn’t big enough to comfortably house any reading material). I’ve had my shower this evening, so I don’t have to be up quite as obnoxiously early in the morning. Everything is ready for my 6:45 a.m. wakeup and 7:30 a.m. departure.

Am I ready? I guess I’ll have to be!

How Do You Hold Onto Hope?

I admit it; I’m feeling discouraged.  I am feeling as though nothing ever changes, no matter the amount of effort I expend.  This is true of my weight-loss goals, my job hunt, the quest for health insurance coverage… It feels like life itself is just stagnant, even in the areas in which I seek change.

Bathroom Scale, image from http://www.care2.com/

My weight has been stuck at the same place, give or take no more than 2 pounds, for probably close to a year now.  I’d dropped to about 7 pounds above my pre-pregnancy weight at one point, then gained a few pounds back… and there it stayed.  Since we moved to Florida, I’ve tried calorie-reduction and increased activity, and still it remained.  Whether I’m being “good” or not, the scale doesn’t seem to care.  I’m still going to the gym nearly every day, but recently I’ve stopped religiously counting my calories.  I’ve also stopped weighing myself because what’s the point?  It just leads to more discouragement.  (Of course, not weighing in leaves me with this fear in the back of my mind that I’m steadily gaining now, instead of continuing to plateau.)

Now Hiring, Must Have Clue. photo from http://www.carteworld.com

Obviously I can’t do the same with my job-hunt. I can’t scale it back out of frustration. The only thing I can do is to soldier on in the face of the incoming rejection letters and lack of interviews. The only change I can see making is to slowly reduce my pickiness and increase my desperation. I can look for jobs I don’t really want, jobs that are more likely to leave me miserable and tired at the end of the day, instead of leaving me feeling like I’ve done a good thing with my day. I don’t want to get to that point… but I am losing hope of finding the kind of job I actually want. And it’s not like I’m asking that much – I just want an office job with an area (or, really, anywhere in FL) university.

How, in the face of all of this negativity, do I hold on to my hope? How do I keep myself from drowning in all the rejections and letting it hammer away at my self-worth? I can write, and I can concentrate on the positives. But some days it feels like that is just staving off the inevitable.

I want a job, and I am more than qualified for the kind of job I want.
I want to lose weight, and 10-15 pounds doesn’t seem unreasonable.
I want health insurance I can afford, and everyone deserves that, I believe.
And most of all, I want to feel hope that all of the above can be achieved.

National Coming Out Day

Flags, signs and rainbows abound at the downtown Fort Myers "Coming Out for Equality" Event

A week or so ago, I had promised to use my Facebook status message to further National Coming Out Day, today. But then it occurred to me: family members read my Facebook. People I knew in my small-town high school read my Facebook. Many of these people don’t know I’m bisexual. This also led me to consider the fact that this blog is public, and its link is published on my resume whenever I apply for a writing-related position.

But then, isn’t that what Coming Out Day is for? My close friends and family have known for almost ten years now. I came out for the first time about twelve years ago, when I finally realized what denial I’d been putting myself through for so very long. There are parts of my family – my own father, even – who would be less than understanding, or perhaps just write it off as unimportant because, after all, I married a man in the end, right? *eyeroll* As for future employers, yes, it is a risk. But do I want to work for someone who would reject me for what I express here?

I did, in the end, set my status accordingly. And I went off to church, wearing my rainbow tie-dye shirt. At this point, I was still waffling as to whether or not I should attend the Coming Out For Equality event happening post-church, but I was leaning towards not going. Until, that is, one of our speakers got up and told her story. There were hints of my own history there, particularly how we kept our true selves buried for so very long, well beyond the concept of denial. I knew then, I needed to be at the protest/rally/gathering, or whatever you want to call it. Her speech cried out to me, called me to action, and inspired me to face my fears.

"The Sky Didn't Fall on New England." One of my very favorite signs from Coming Out for Equality, depicting a lesbian wedding in MA.

Those who know me well will likely be impressed by this, knowing that I went to the event without my husband and child. I don’t go places by myself, without someone I know very well. But I did, today. I caught a ride with an acquaintance from church, while O brought the Bug home for his afternoon nap.

Not only did I come out on the Internet and come out for equality, I also came out of my shell.

Writing As Therapy

It’s no secret to anyone that things are a little bit stressful here in the SJ household.  We’re in a new location, not even in our own home, and we’re both job hunting.  With so much up in the air, yes, anxiety levels are sometimes a little bit high.

So how am I, a woman with a mild-to-moderate case of GAD, coping with the extra stressors that have been piled on since July?  You know, other than resenting the ever-loving crap out of my husband’s former employer.  There are definitely better, more productive ways to manage my stress.

One such method is something I had started back in the dark, dark days of PPD hell – a focus on the positive.  My therapist at the time urged me to try to find positive things about each day and write them down.  I kept with it for a while, and I did notice a difference.  I’ve done it sporadically since then, when things felt particularly bleak, but it never became a real, solid routine.

A week and a half ago, though, one of my dearest friends started posting Daily Positives in her journal, and urged her readers to do the same for a period of eight days.  I latched right on to that bait, and immediately started to notice a difference.  In so doing, I determined that it was something I should keep doing.  Not just for eight days, but for as long as it feels right.  I’m starting with a month (today is day #11), but it may well continue after that as well.

In this time of recession, job loss, and personal turmoil, it is really easy to get lost in negatives.  Every day is NOT all sunshine and roses, even here in tropical Florida, where it’s hard to even remember that it’s autumn.  But every day does have at least a few rays of hope.  No, those rays don’t take away the worries.  They don’t stop my brain from obsessing about finding work, missing loved ones, or trivialities like Christmas plans or something someone said to me in passing.  But remembering the positives forces me to shift my focus, at least for the length of the journal entry (and usually quite a while beyond), onto something good and away from anything negative.  That can only be a good thing, as far as I’m concerned.

The Fruits of Our Labors

Like many people, I’ve never given a whole lot of thought to what Labor Day actually means. It’s been a day off from school or work, the unofficial end of summer, and sometimes a day for picnics and barbecues with loved ones. But what does it really mean?

This year, though, the true meaning is particularly salient for me. This year, not only are my husband and I each seeking work ourselves, but it seems like the whole country is re-evaluating what it means to be employed. People retire from a life-long career, then end up taking on part- or even full-time work anyway because they can’t afford to make ends meet. Job security in the majority of fields is wavering, with the dark cloud of downsizing always threatening. And people are stuck in dead-end, miserable occupations because they can’t afford to quit.

It sounds bleak, doesn’t it? Not much of a thing to celebrate on this first Monday in September. To be honest, being in a brand new area without friends or family to picnic with, we likely won’t be doing much celebrating, ourselves. But if we were, it would be as a tribute to those who are striving to improve the state of the economy. No one can deny that the country has hit some fairly dire straits in recent years. But we will bounce back. However long it takes, whatever path we follow, things will improve.

Keep that thought in your mind, particularly if you are one of those who is either unemployed or stuck in a job that leaves you feeling unfulfilled. Sit back, crack open a beer, throw some burgers on the grill, and enjoy this break from mundania.

This post was inspired by the sermon at The Unitarian Universalist Church of Ft Myers on Sunday, September 6, 2009.

Feeling Like a Grown-up

(not our actual car)

In 2004, my husband and I bought our first “real” car. It was actually the third car we owned together – the first we bought from a guy down the street for $600, and the second was given to us by O’s brother. Our current car, a Subaru Outback sedan, was our first experience with going to a dealership, taking test drives, getting financing, and eventually coming home with a shiny new-to-us vehicle.

Throughout the whole experience, I remembered going to car dealerships (and being bored to tears!) with my parents, when I was a child. It’s rather surreal to do things for yourself that you remember your parents doing when you were a child. It really hit me then (at age 28) – I was a grown-up, at least in one way.

one of the houses we looked at

This year, O and I started shopping for houses. That, too, brought back memories of trips with my parents to view homes. Doing it myself, though, was overwhelming and more than a little terrifying. Somehow it was a lot less scary dealing with cars than with houses. Perhaps because instead of the 5-figures of debt that a car purchase brings, we were looking at going for 6. Six-figure sums are pretty intimidating to think about! Besides, we were choosing the place where our son would grow up, thereby reminding me of all the responsibilities in my life. So again, now at 33 years of age, I was becoming a grown-up in a whole new way.

People ask me sometimes what I want to be when I “grow up,” and I jokingly respond that I don’t necessarily plan to grow up at all. Those who know my family well know that we all tend to stay pretty young-at-heart well into our golden years. I’ve gotten married (twice), become a mother, graduated from college. I’ve made life-changing decisions, and moved way from the area that was my home for nearly 26 years. I know what I want my career to be, and I am taking steps in that direction. I’m the one who generally handles our finances, and I am very responsible with our spending.

Somewhere along the line, when I wasn’t looking, I think I actually did become a Grown-up. In all the ways that count.

The Downside to Looking on the Bright Side

The economic troubles facing our nation struck a little too close to home today. We’d known today was the day and were therefore prepared for the worst. I sat by my computer all morning, waiting for each piece of news to filter down to my husband and then to me. In the end, he was spared. But not before a million worst-case scenarios and plan B, C, D, etc. had their chances to play around in my head.

In my imagination, we had endless possibilities. O could go back to school and finish his degree and/or take over as stay-at-home parent while I returned to full-time work outside the home. We could move out of this frozen tundra where we currently live and head further south. It would be a struggle to do any of these things on short notice like this, but there were options out there, if the worst had happened today.

Let me just state for the record, I am beyond relieved that my husband is still employed, and my heart goes out to all those who are not. I am also proud that I was not all doom and gloom about the prospect. However, the flip-side to all this optimism, and looking at the bright side is that you begin to have little fantasies. Looking at a potential loss as an potential opportunity means that when the loss doesn’t occur, the opportunity is lost, instead.

Obviously the safety and security of a steady income is not something I take for granted – especially after today. But still I can’t help but wonder about the “what ifs.”

But maybe I just shouldn’t think so far ahead in the future.

my husband's Xerox hat