I don't miss working anymore. Well, I kind of do. I do. I do still miss working. But not like I did. I used to ache. For a while, I was jonesing for that hectic life again. I was definitely in withdrawal. And it's not the job I was longing for. It was everything that came with it. The hustle. The rushing from one place to another. The pushing myself to stretch time, to make my time do cartwheels. I was so proud of myself for getting everything accomplished that I accomplished in a day. Sure, it ticked me off when people would say, "well, you have so much more time than I do," and I'd look at their schedule and I'd look at mine. How was I working full-time nights, doing all the community service things I was doing, school PTO, attempting to sleep and still having more time than everybody else?
Well, I wasn't. It just looked like I did because I made the time. I always made the time. I always said, "I'd make it work." I did so regardless of what it did to me mentally or to me physically. I did it again and again with pneumonia. I always made it work. And everyone knew I'd make it work. So therefore, surely I had more time than them...because it's not like they'd ever make it work. It had to be based on time, and nothing else.
But I don't miss working anymore. Not everything that came with it. Not the self doubt. And the constant feeling that I never did enough. Because now that I no longer am working, I finally realize my worth. I always thought working made me worth something. I felt like that when The Redhead was two and I decided to take a part-time job...to prove my worth. To show I too could be productive. And so many people were more than willing to let me know my lack of worth. They were more than willing to explain how much abundant time I had. Whether I was "just a mother." Whether I worked part-time almost every evening and weekend. Whether I worked full-time during the day. Even when I worked full-time nights. These people were so overly helpful. And it took me moving to the west coast and not working to realize that it was never about me. It was always about them.
I don't miss working.
When we moved out here, Mister Man negotiated a compromise with me. He really, really, really wanted me to stay home for a while. He asked me to stick it out for six months. Shortly after that initial negotiation, he upped it to a year. And then before I knew it, it became an indefinite stay. He loves dinners at home. He loves that I take The Redhead to practices and lessons and am available for sick days. I can handle all of the doctor and dentist appointments. I do the shopping. I handle the charity work. And I did a lot of that before, but now I do it without bags under my eyes. I do it without us comparing schedules and moving around time slots. The house is cleaner. And there's no sense in pretending- our house could not be clean when I was working. I had two people home when I wasn't there putting things in places they didn't belong. And I have two modes. Perfection. Or Chaos. I'm an all or nothing sort of girl.
Now don't get me wrong. I love to work. LOVE to work. I love cramming as much in a day as possible. I'm not a television girl. I'm not a restful girl. I'm the girl who moves constantly and has to always have something coming up, something due. I live my life like that. I'm always like that. I thrive off of that. But I have discovered that's my personality, for better or for worse, and I'm always going to be like that. Whether I have a real job or not. I'm always going to be doing something. That's who I am. Just because I don't have a job doesn't mean I'm any less, and it's taken me a REALLY long time to see that. I'm a workaholic by nature. And just because I'm actually enjoying not working doesn't make me lazy. I'm still coming to terms with that part. I'm a lucky wife though. I am. I know. I know I'm lucky for this lifestyle and situation. However, I'm realizing my family is lucky too. And I find they missed me and I missed them far more than I even miss working.
Even though I still do sort of miss it. But almost two years later, I miss it less. Withdrawal is over. But I'm still a junkie and recovery is tough. I know what's important now. And it's not my interpretation of what everyone else thinks. And that's the greatest thing to come from this.
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