Freedom

Even though I don't claim the moniker "control freak" nor even pass as one most of the time, I do like to feel in control of major life decisions. Rolling down the hill inside a hamster ball put me out of sorts, until my loving AD explained that I was really on skis, and could stop any time I like, even climb back up the hill with a bit of effort.

That is, he told me (paraphrased) "If you want to go back to work, go back to work. So, we have a house [halfway across the country]. It will be ready for us when we are ready to go. If you want to work part-time, work part-time. If you want to go back for a while to see if it will work, go back for a while." If this version of the future doesn't work for you, try on another one.

Oh. Freedom. I am still free. I can stop the ball, or the skis. I can return to my job either full or part-time. I can try to pick up contract work. I can try to pick up other kinds of work. We can stay here another couple months while I decide. We can go right away, and live off savings, and I can spend my days with my boys and exploring how I'd like to live the rest of my life. Oh. I get it.

Remind me, now, what was I afraid of?

Ball is Rolling

Raw writing here. Acknowledging my emotions and trying to work through them for my own benefit. Feel free to read on, but I won't be offended if you turn back.

My thoughts are churning, swirling, as I fly head-over-heels inside the ball, rolling down the hill. I don't know what awaits me at the bottom of the hill, and I fear it. Perhaps the ball will be smashed to pieces, and life as I know it will end.

What will end? What am I afraid of losing? If I don't take chances, I risk losing myself.

My life these days consists largely of poop and pee and spit, and feeding and eating and sleeping. In between, I find myself busying myself with chores, with reading, in a desperate attempt to escape from my thoughts, those thoughts that muddy my sight, muddy my self-understanding. (They are still with me.)

Last week we went on a house-hunting trip. As we found something we liked, though it cost more than we were hoping, we put in an offer on a cute little old house with a biggish yard, two side-walked blocks from a park, walking distance to shopping, and a short drive from the shores of Lake Michigan. Closing is set for the end of March. All we await now is loan approval.

I find, in this land of bodily fluids and little rest, that I am not as confident about our choices, about my choices, as I was before little Composer was born. Things are not so serene now - I don't find myself happily watching the boys and peacefully acknowledging where I am. Everything is moving too fast. I'm not just afraid of what's happening, I'm downright terrified. I cling to the edge of the ship as it sails along, but I don't feel like I am setting the sails, or deciding which direction to go. Why? What is so scary?

I start to gain some insight, with the help of my mirror, AD. What do I want if money is no object? What do I want, if I see things with the right perspective? Nothing more than to spend time with my family, watch my boys grow and help them to learn as they teach me, to rediscover my own creative spirit, to live a little every day, rather than die a little in the grip of blinding fear of the unknown.

Ok, then it is a good decision to leave work and spend more time with my family. But when asked if I want to go back to work (or if I want to leave work) my mind seizes up and I can't answer. Why? What makes me so afraid to say "I'm quitting! I'm going to take 'their' advice and spend the next few years enjoying my babes while they are little. I'm going to live and love and create."

A big part of the answer appears to be money. We are picking up & moving across the country, to a location in which it will be difficult for me to find employment in my current field. AD's business is just getting off the ground, and may not make any money for months, or years. We will be living off of savings in the interim, and are locking ourselves into a costly (ever so much less so than in this part of the country) home loan. Now that we are investigating them in earnest, the moving costs are piling up. We are leaving behind my substantial salary and health care benefits for nothing. (No dollars that is.)

Voices in my head: "That's just not what you do! How long will our money last? What if the business doesn't become profitable on a convenient timetable? What if I need to go back to work? What if I want to go back to work?"

By moving across the country, we are cutting off a convenient "escape route" in my mind - that of going back to work, in the same place, a known quantity, a good job working on "cool" projects - just in case the need should arise.

But really, why should the need arise? We have a good standard of living, but we can afford to live on less, especially in a much less expensive part of the country. We can do without a lot of the little luxuries we have become accustomed to ... such as buying just about anything whenever we feel like it. (A side benefit from living on less might be that we are all more grateful and appreciative.) But say we really do need more money even after we cut corners as much as we are able? Well, hey, then AD, or I, or both of us can get a job. We are both employable, I am sure. Worst case scenario, if I decide I just must absolutely go back into my current profession, and I can't find a way to do it from the western shores of the Lake? Well, then, we will just have to move again. But we won't have to do that. We have other options.

What is important? Is it all these things in the house that are causing the moving costs to go up up up? Is it the "cool things" built by my current prestigious employer? Is it my fear of explaining myself to people? Is it my reputation, my salary, the "perks" of the job? Is it the warm weather and oranges growing in our backyard? Is it the number of dollar signs stored in the bank?

Jen's quote of MLK drives it home: I do this for me, but I also do it for my family. Nothing else is certain.

What Madeleine Albright Told Me

Last spring, AD started working with a career coach. After about a month, as part of the process, the coach asked to have a joint session with me. He asked me to name three people I admire, who could serve as role models for my life. I named my mother and father, and he suggested that I name the third person from outside my family. Quick, the first person that comes to your mind. ("The first thing that comes to your mind" seemed to be one of his favorite phrases.)

Me: Okay. Madeleine Albright.

Why I thought of Madeleine Albright, I don't really know. In fact, I don't really know much about her, at all, except that she was the first woman who held the position of U.S. Secretary of State. I also imagine that she is a strong woman, and I have heard that she attained this powerful position after raising a family.

So then the coach asked me another on-the-spot question of the sort I'd rather avoid: "If you could talk to Madeleine Albright right now, what would she tell you?" (Quick, the first thing that comes to your mind.)

Me: "You don't have to choose."

Coach: "What don't you want to choose?"

Me: "Between work and my family."

~~~~~

(In response to your comments on my previous post.)

Decisions have always been difficult for me. When I took this job (only a little more than a year ago), I thought about it for nearly a month before deciding not to take it, and subsequently changing my mind in light of a change in circumstances. Now, I've been deliberating on the choice to leave the same job for more than six months. I feel sometimes like I am a daisy being picked "now she loves her job, now she doesn't, now she stays at work, now she quits."

I have made my choice, but it is very difficult for me to admit that. Perhaps I am waiting for circumstances to change, or for February, or for the last reservations to fall away. Perhaps I am still waiting for certainty.

I know that I am following my heart. I know that when I choose to leave, I can also choose to return. I know that nothing is forever. But living with that knowledge and accepting it is a daily challenge for me.

Lucky I only fear the worst

These scary stories and Lillian's Very Bad News have me thinking about how lucky I am.

I have a job that pays the bills (even though rent is $2000/month) and subsidizes health care premiums for the whole family. We can afford quality child care (and I highly recommend the au pair program as an affordable means of child care, especially if you have more than one child needing care). Although there is no paid maternity leave, I am eligible for short-term disability pay for approximately the first six weeks after the baby is born, and I live in one of the very few states with paid family leave.

Nonetheless, I am contemplating leaving all of this behind. No - I have decided to leave, although I give myself permission to change my mind. I am afraid of what may await me when I leave my career behind, both personally and financially. But I am also drawn to spend more time with my boys, so that I can learn again the lesson that Articulate Dad and I used to practice, "Live each day as though it were your first, with the wide-open, wondering eyes of a child."

Articulate has recently applied for a very interesting interdisciplinary academic post, and we are keeping our fingers crossed that it will work out. Of course, I want it to work out because it could be very personally rewarding and satisfying for A.D. But I also have selfish motivations in that it would ease my fears, and make it easier to explain why I am leaving work. But what if he doesn't get the position? Is it irresponsible of me (us) to leave my job, this source of stability and security?

I want the freedom to choose my life, but I fear that my choices will not yield the results I expect, that I may end up in a scary story of my own making.

I would do better to remember that security is an illusion, and that all things in life are temporary. In the recent California fires, all we suffered was some bad air quality, but certainly a lot of people learned a lesson in the impermanence of all things.

Fear is a part of life. But I can let go of my fear, and trust that everything will turn out all right.

Recuperation

I spent two days at home to recuperate, but didn't end up doing much resting on either one. I did take some time for myself on Monday, listening to an article about Opting Out from North Carolina public radio. I particularly liked a comment from one of the callers, Anna, who had left her high-powered career in Boston to move to North Carolina where her husband pursued his dream to be a school teacher and she stay home with their child. In Boston, he had been a stay-at-home dad while she worked, but then she decided to "opt out" of her career, and they opted into a different lifestyle in which, she recounts, "I've never been happier and I've never been poorer in my whole life."

That kind of testimonial is important for me to hear. As much as we all know that money can't buy happiness, I certainly have reservations about leaving work, partly because of the (somewhat irrational) fear of not having enough money.

Now here's my picking and choosing mind at work again. Just because money can't buy happiness, does that mean I'll be happier with less of it? More to the point, will I be happier if I leave work than if I stay?

The answer to that question can, in part, be found in the two days I was just at home. As I mentioned, I didn't actually spend much time resting while at home. In addition to listening to other women talk about being poor and happy, enjoying some time to myself, enjoying some time with my boys, and doing some work, I did something just a little bit creative. I figured out, all on my own, without a sewing machine, how to convert some of A.D.'s old T-shirt's into Halloween costumes for the boys. While the "kitty ghost", for the Painter, still needs a little work, the Inventor's pumpkin costume turned out pretty cute. (Pictures coming soon.)

Thinking about that simple, creative, loving act, making Halloween costumes for the boys, makes me smile.

Exploring New Cities (Virtually)

"After explaining themselves to befuddled family and friends, they packed up and moved across the country."

Having decided to do the same, it is nice to know we are not alone. The "explaining ... to befuddled family and friends" is one of the things that makes it difficult to go. Not only do we have our own fear of how we will sustain ourselves to deal with, but also the fear that no one else will understand.

I have added some lists to the sidebar: what we are looking for in a place to live, and possibilities we are currently considering. I put them in the sidebar so I can look at them often, edit as needed, and feel like we are making progress in this endeavor. In steering a new course for our lives, it is more productive to set our sights on our destination than focus on why we're leaving this place we've started from.

Articulate thinks it may be more difficult to live near family than elsewhere, because, in seeing family more often, we will have that much more explaining to do. But I think that if we are confident in our course it won't matter how often we are interrogated. As with the same kinds of questions from our children, we can explain until we run out of patience, and continue nonetheless to do what we feel is best.