On the upside, I sit in my favorite coffee shop at 10:30 in the morning on a weekday writing for the first time in months. When I bought my coffee a few minutes ago, I put 25 dollars on a gift card (a gift to myself) suggesting that I expect to be able to do this on a semi-regular basis. I wear flip-flops, black yoga pants and a dark green t-shirt. Sun glasses propped on top of my head, I suppose I am wearing the uniform of a stay at home mother and I must say, it is comfy. Just how I like it.
On the downside, I have been weepy all morning. You see, this is the first official day of my new job. For the next two years I have walked away from paid employment. I am someone who hopes not to lose my mind, someone who hopes to improve on the balance in our family of five which includes a dad who works long, long hours, me, two teenagers in high school, and one preteen with ADHD in middle school. I hope for basics like cooking more nutritious meals (or cooking at all), being a mother who can breath, more support for completing homework, a presence when a random teen decides to open up, flossing my teeth, some yoga, as well as developing my writing. If you are snickering at my unrealistic expectations, I understand.
Last Fall I wrote for this blog about my ambivalence about working and mothering three intense kids, one who I comfortably think of as high need. At that time, I decided to stick it out with my job as a psychologist who, for the past decade plus, has worked with kids and teens at a local medical center. Even after my decision to stay at work, however, I continued to be preoccupied and torn in two different, demanding directions. Then one day in June, with my husband’s full and loving support, I sat at my desk at work and thought if I don’t just do it, I will remain stuck and nothing will ever change. I decided not to stay in my job based on fear, but to make a change despite the fear. So, right then and there, I wrote a letter of resignation and sent it off to my manager. When we met later that day, I told my manager that I could stay until September in order to facilitate a smooth transition for my patients and the department.
The relief of this decision lasted about one day. Maybe two. This was then replaced by a constant state of feeling terrified. Continue reading