I really, really thought I wanted this...
When I decided to leave my old work-at-home job, I was ready. I am not ashamed to say I craved normal conversation. I really (really) wanted to get back out into a world with other adults to talk to, conversations that weren't predominately about nursing or sleeping habits or developmental milestones, and I wanted part of my pre-baby life back. After 2 years of working at home with my son (who also had grown from newborn infant to a full-fledged toddler)--I thought this work thing would be a perfect way to regain some form of control over my life and boost my self-confidence that had somehow plummeted into despair and doubt about my ability to do anything but change diapers, fix fun and enticing toddler food, and clean house.
The result: I went back to corporate America.
This decision as a whole has had many positive side effects--we are more financially stable, the kiddo loves school and interacting with his friends (now, that took a few weeks), I was able to prove that I hadn't lost my business sense (or technical knowledge), and I do get an occasional lunch hour to do "whatever I want." These "whatever I want" days are nice--as when I was a work and stay at home mom--they were the ONE thing I wanted-- desperately. I never felt like I had ANY me time--even though the husband and I did what we could to plan days (and even weekends) for me to get this time. Just now, I could COUNT on getting "whatever I want" time at least once a week, and often most lunch hours.
What's the problem? Some of it is guilt-- guilt of the whole leave-the-kid-at-day-care-thing (though, I LOVE his day care, his teachers, their mission), guilt of not spending more time with the kiddo, guilt of letting him run havoc on the house when I get home so I can do the cleaning and cooking I can't do because I am not at home during the day anymore. Guilt for all the neurotic mom-things we do or can't do because we aren't super-human.
But (almost) even moreso it is an issue of what I used to be able to do WHILE working at home. Sometimes that meant a load of laundry. Emptying the dishwasher. Reading the kiddo a book. Calling a friend. All this other useless stuff that I still do anyway. But I mean the BIG thing--and that was write. Write my fiction, non-fiction, articles... whatever without worrying.
See, this corporate America work thing--as you all know--requires you to work from 9ish to 5ish. And that normally means 8ish to almost 6ish and it eats at your brain even when you aren't in the office. Late night calls, e-mails, tight deadlines--none of it help the situation. Even if you were like me and PROMISED yourself that you would not get wrapped up in your work. IT SUCKS YOU IN. Sometimes you don't even notice.
I had NO IDEA how sucked in I was--until last night. Or maybe it was last week (it all blends together now in mundane routine). I am still struggling with my next novel-in-progress. Still. Almost a year after I started it. Granted I have reworked/rewritten it four times--but it is still slower than I like and not as far along as I had hoped. I can only guess that if I were still working at home that I might have more time to devote to this book. Or that it might be complete if I weren't in an office. But these are all guesses. I don't know--and I am sure this is one of those grass-is-always-greener moments.
What I do know is that the nonsense that is pushed at me daily on the corporate job is insanely ridiculous, falsely urgentized (is that a word?), and totally and utterly mundane. And I chose to come back to this? Someone should have hit with a blunt, hard, sharp object. How could I be so stupid?
The result: I went back to corporate America.
This decision as a whole has had many positive side effects--we are more financially stable, the kiddo loves school and interacting with his friends (now, that took a few weeks), I was able to prove that I hadn't lost my business sense (or technical knowledge), and I do get an occasional lunch hour to do "whatever I want." These "whatever I want" days are nice--as when I was a work and stay at home mom--they were the ONE thing I wanted-- desperately. I never felt like I had ANY me time--even though the husband and I did what we could to plan days (and even weekends) for me to get this time. Just now, I could COUNT on getting "whatever I want" time at least once a week, and often most lunch hours.
What's the problem? Some of it is guilt-- guilt of the whole leave-the-kid-at-day-care-thing (though, I LOVE his day care, his teachers, their mission), guilt of not spending more time with the kiddo, guilt of letting him run havoc on the house when I get home so I can do the cleaning and cooking I can't do because I am not at home during the day anymore. Guilt for all the neurotic mom-things we do or can't do because we aren't super-human.
But (almost) even moreso it is an issue of what I used to be able to do WHILE working at home. Sometimes that meant a load of laundry. Emptying the dishwasher. Reading the kiddo a book. Calling a friend. All this other useless stuff that I still do anyway. But I mean the BIG thing--and that was write. Write my fiction, non-fiction, articles... whatever without worrying.
See, this corporate America work thing--as you all know--requires you to work from 9ish to 5ish. And that normally means 8ish to almost 6ish and it eats at your brain even when you aren't in the office. Late night calls, e-mails, tight deadlines--none of it help the situation. Even if you were like me and PROMISED yourself that you would not get wrapped up in your work. IT SUCKS YOU IN. Sometimes you don't even notice.
I had NO IDEA how sucked in I was--until last night. Or maybe it was last week (it all blends together now in mundane routine). I am still struggling with my next novel-in-progress. Still. Almost a year after I started it. Granted I have reworked/rewritten it four times--but it is still slower than I like and not as far along as I had hoped. I can only guess that if I were still working at home that I might have more time to devote to this book. Or that it might be complete if I weren't in an office. But these are all guesses. I don't know--and I am sure this is one of those grass-is-always-greener moments.
What I do know is that the nonsense that is pushed at me daily on the corporate job is insanely ridiculous, falsely urgentized (is that a word?), and totally and utterly mundane. And I chose to come back to this? Someone should have hit with a blunt, hard, sharp object. How could I be so stupid?
