For over a decade, I allowed my ex-husband to define what “work” meant to me. Apparently, what I was doing day in and day out at home with two young kids, wasn’t it.
I specifically remember one night he told me, “You help spend the money. You need to help make it!” I was seven months pregnant with our daughter at the time, and I had our three-year-old son in tow all day long. He often pressured me to take a graveyard shift at a grocery store in a dicey part of town for $7.25 an hour so I could start contributing to the household and add some value to our family.
Today is not the only day where I define what work means to me (after believing for so long that what I was doing wasn’t it), but also the day I have the opportunity to share it with you.
“Work” is any job I do, paid or unpaid, that’s important to me. It’s anything I work incredibly hard at, pour my heart and soul into — and anything that sits at the very core of who I am and have always been.
I’m a Mother, a Writer, a Musician, a Caregiver, an Athlete, and a Student.
And work doesn’t define me — I define it.
. . .
I’m a Caregiver for Seniors by day.
Although I often feel like the clean version of a professional escort service for the elderly — I love every minute of it.
I spend my mornings safely Uber-ing my clients around to wherever their hearts desire. Sometimes — it’s to places they’d rather not go, like funeral homes and emergency rooms. I take them out for all the soup-and-salad lunch specials their seemingly shrinking stomachs can handle and make sure their take their medication is taken on time — whether it’s before or after their meal.
I take my clients’ morning vitals, help them in and out of the shower, and help them get ready for whatever the day will bring. On special days you’ll find me tying their ties, fixing their collars, and escorting them to their sixtieth high-school reunions in a classy blue floral dress and curled hair.
Whether it’s a trip to the bank, picking up random items at the grocery store, putting a fresh dressing on a bleeding wound, or taking them to their Dermatology appointment — we belly laugh the whole way there. Whatever daily living activities my clients need help with, I always make sure my eyes (and smile) are bright, my hair is pinned back, my scrubs are clean and crisp, and I’m ready to show up for who and what they need me to be that day.
I love helping people. I love my Caregiving job because it doesn’t feel like work to me.
I’m a writer and a musician by night.
I write and play my guitar any (and all) hours of the day. But for sh*ts and giggles, let’s say I only do these things at night.
I write when I’m sad, happy, or mad. I pick up my guitar while mulling over similar emotions. It depends on what’s closest to me at the time — my phone or a guitar. I make a few bucks here and there, but believe you me — I’m not in it for the money.
I love healing myself and others through music. I love my job as a Writer of Words and Rhythms because it doesn’t feel like work.
If it’s not day or night — I’m something in between, somewhere in the middle.
I’m a mother, an athlete, and a student — but my ex-husband would really prefer if I sped up the pace on becoming that full-time Licensed Vocational Nurse so I could pay him support already.
I’m a Mom
I may have mentioned this once or twice throughout my writing career, but — I love being a mom. It’s the most brutal, most rewarding, most underpaid job in the world, and it’s my favorite of all my jobs. Come to think of it, motherhood, Medium, and my ex-husband have changed the way I approach “work” forever, and I am grateful for this.
I’m an Athlete
No, I don’t get paid to work out as those phenomenal elite CrossFit athletes do. But that’s okay — I have a pretty good time at my local “box” (CrossFit gym) anyway. I laugh, cry, sweat, say thank you, and go on my merry way with sore legs, calloused hands, and a happy heart. Taking care of myself for myself and my family are all the benefits I need from this job.
I’m a Student
I’m working on getting my life together — I am. But my ex-husband doesn’t get to pull the rug from under me one day and impute my income the next. So, I’m working my a** off in school. And I’m ecstatic for a summer break to catch my thirty-nine-year-old breath before cracking open those twenty-pound medical books again in the Fall.
I am working towards higher education to hopefully someday earn an hourly wage I can live on — not in my parents’ house.
Working on myself is work. It’s the type of work I wished I would have been doing a long time ago if I had listened to my gut. Nevertheless, I’m getting there, one college class at a time.
Final Thoughts
I had always planned to go back to work. After having two kids, I knew it would look slightly different than late nights in the restaurant business or full-time employment with a grueling commute and paying out the nose for daycare. As a matter of fact, when my daughter began Transitional Kindergarten, I landed my Caregiver a job. She was in school for two and a half hours, and thanks to my mom and dad, I figured out how to work four hours a day three times a week and put in extra hours during the weekend when my ex-husband was home. Unbeknownst to me, he was using those weekends to be anything but a “family man.”
Talk about a slap in the face.
Nevertheless, my point being: we never paid one damn zinc copper-coated cent for daycare. I googled ‘average cost of daycare for one year,’ and at an average of $700/month per child, I came up with $201,600. Did I think about being extra reasonable? Of course, I did because that’s who I am. Deducting the three years that my son was the only child made sense at first, but when I thought about how much more expensive it is for an infant in daycare, I decided it would all even out. I’d have to pull in a six-figure income to work and pay someone for the work I did over the ten years I was home with my kids.
That’s a lot of hours at the grocery store at $7.25 an hour.
. . .
Lastly, but certainly not least, I want to say Thank You to all the spouses out there with stable careers who are supporting their families financially. I am also doing my absolute best not to come across as passive-aggressive because the jackass in my story isn’t you. We appreciate you more than you will ever know. We know how hard living on one income is. And we hope our happy, well-adjusted kids, clean laundry, and a hot plate of dinner on the table are enough to make it all worth it. We do our best to show you how much your hard work means to us by working our asses off every day too.
I am aware of how the world has changed and continues to change. And how the role of a “house-wife” is becoming almost obsolete. I am grateful for what the world has become because it’s made me who I am today. Still, I stand by my old-fashioned values that I “worked” while being home with my kids all those years and fought the good fight not to put them in daycare.
We couldn’t have afforded it anyway.
. . .
I wasn’t expecting this piece to take the turn that it did. But as soon as I sat down, things started to flow out and over.
So, I just went for it.
Do I want to continue reaching for the stars in Healthcare? Do I want to keep my Caregiver job with an insanely flexible schedule so I can support my kids through one of the most excruciating times in their life? Or should I say screw it, quit my job, sacrifice my independence by living with my parents for a while, write for a living (no matter how little a month I make), and chose the hours that I work so I can be with my kids when they need me most?
Yes. Yes, to all of it, because I define what work means now— not anyone else.
. . .
Thank you for reading.
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This post was previously published on Being Known.
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The post ’Choose a Job You Love and You’ll Never Have to Work a Day in Your Life.’ appeared first on The Good Men Project.
