(another) New Chapter

I’m so glad I decided to go through with my graduation ceremony Saturday. It was great to see some of my old classmates and catch up on where everyone is heading and what’s going on with others in our little group.

Even though there were 1,700 former students in the graduation ceremony yesterday, only four of those were WRITers (that’s what we called ourselves in the writing dept.) I was one of those four and two others didn’t participate in the ceremony.

I was a little embarrassed to go back and face them and admit how hard it has been to find a job. One of my friends said, “I heard you are an editor now at the newspaper—that’s so awesome.”

I had to inform her that it was only temporary and they had just hired someone permanently for the job—and guess what—it wasn’t me.

Everyone’s faces got serious. We are all in the same boat—big, expensive degrees with no full-time, permanent writing jobs.

I’m not sure why, but it seems that I tend to get to be the guinea pig of life for my friends. I was able to catch them up on the freelance community in Savannah and point them in the right direction for part-time work.

With the bad news behind us, we got to move on to the good stuff in our lives. We made it through graduate school.

I thought I was the only one who struggled. We compared notes on the number of times we got into bed and cried and wanted to quit. We laughed about papers we hated to write and how that weird guy with the bushy hair who looks like he’s always wearing pajamas keeps his job as an Art History professor.

I even got a little award...not too shabby

And when the ceremony started and the music played, we leaned in close to each other and teared up. For the first time in a long time, I felt really proud of myself.

I felt like I finally achieved something really great…actually I know I achieved something really great. I started something and I followed through with it. That’s not very easy to do these days.

It’s funny because with each new task and struggle, I realize how much I learned from my mother. Nothing was ever good enough for her—and I don’t mean that in a bad way.

She is always satisfied with the simple things in life, but she is always looking for a way to make a little more money or to turn an old piece of furniture into something really special.

When we were kids, she would make popcorn every Friday night and we would watch television. It was never simple popcorn—she would go around her humble kitchen and put together a mixture of whatever she thought would taste good. And it always did taste good—it was also a taste that could never be replicated by someone else.

When I got married the first time around, Mom wore a red, Asian-themed dress to my wedding. We lovingly called it her “Chinese hooker dress.” While my grandmother didn’t approve, I loved it. Everyone who knows me well, knows my favorite color is red and I was happy Mom honored that.

After a few years, she recycled the hooker dress into a chair cover for an old padded rocker she found at the flea market. It made for a beautiful chair and a keepsake for a special day.

I know there is something really amazing about the ability to take the old and unwanted and turn it into something beautiful and unique—something no one else can fully replicate.

Life gave me a crappy divorce and left me at rock bottom with two children to care for and no job or healthcare. Somehow I have managed to turn that unwanted, ugly thing into something beautiful and unique—something no one else can ever replicate.

It doesn’t mean that my degree is better than everyone else’s because I feel I had to sacrifice so much to get to that graduation—there is no telling what other stories filled that giant civic center.

But, somehow I made it look easy. I found a way to make it work, and I found a way to make it my own.

I’m glad my mother taught me to be humble and to live simply. She taught me to find happiness in myself and my family. She taught me to take charge of my life and make things better even when the bank account is on empty and no one else knows how to help.

She also taught me to take a moment and enjoy what I made--and I plan to.

I have this renewed since of pride that I should have had when I finished classes in November. I realize now how important this degree is and how hard I worked for it.

I’m not desperate to find “just any” job now. To be honest, I decided to turn down any future job offers that aren’t worth of my talents and education because at the end of the day, I know I am worth more than an hourly wage desk job.

And, if no one wants to hire me, then that’s okay. I will just take another page from my mother’s untitled book and open my own business and create my own job—a job that no one else can ever replicate. 

Graduation is coming

My graduation is coming up—Saturday to be exact. The entire idea of going through with the formal ceremony seems a little weird to me, but I’m going to force myself to follow through and try to enjoy it.

First of all, I don’t like people making a big deal over me. My sister and my niece are coming to town for the event and Robby and the children are very excited. My mom made me promise to take lots of photos and my last-living grandmother sent me a card and money and told me how proud she is of me.

Yesterday, I picked up my tickets for the event and I picked up my cap and gown. Needless to say, I was the oldest person standing in line. I was also the only person not wearing spandex and flip flops.

I felt silly. I felt out of place. I could hear that inner voice inside me saying, “You’re too old for this.”

But, I reminded myself that I needed to go through with this. I needed to come full circle with this journey I started back in September of 2010.

When I decided to go back to school in 2010, I didn’t apply for graduate school. I didn’t think I could even get in, so I decided to play it safe and take some undergrad classes and get back into the flow.

I quickly realized it was a mistake and switched to the graduate program the next quarter.

I almost quit twice. When I turned in my thesis in November and found out I was finished with my degree, I went to my car and cried.

Goodbye, SCAD

But I didn’t have long to celebrate—I had to find a job.

I’m still trying to find a permanent job but somehow I have made it financially and I have been able to establish myself as a professional in Savannah.

So, why is the graduation important? I guess a lot of people would say it’s because I accomplished something really great and I did something a lot of other people don’t have the courage to do.

But that’s not my reason. I want my children to see that all this hard work had a greater purpose. I want them to understand that hard work pays off in the future.

Children can’t see behind the next five minutes. My children hated the idea of me going to school and going to work. They wanted things to stay the same and for me to stay home with them.

I had to convince them that everything would be okay and I would still be around—and I was.

They were never late for school. They never missed an activity. I still ate lunch at school with them and volunteered in their classrooms. I stayed home with them when they were sick and made sure they always had their lunch and snack for school.  I hosted slumber parties and Girl Scout meetings. I sat through endless karate classes and play dates.

I hired the best sitters for the days I couldn't be at home after school or on weekends and they loved the time away from me--safely protected in their own home.

I still did everything that they were used to but I also went to school full-time.

I did mess up one time—I forgot to pack Jude’s snack for school one day. But that was it--the big mistake during those two years. I guess that’s not too bad...

I honestly don’t know how I managed to do it all. I didn’t put much thought into it. It’s just who I am.

I realize now that I was always as strong as I am now. How else could I have done all of that stuff?

Sure, I don’t need to wear a black gown and shake a bunch of hands to know I graduated. But my children need to see me—they need to see me in a different light. They need to see that moms are more than just homemakers and caretakers and free rides to the movies.

They need to see that moms are people who have dreams. Moms are people who still want to travel and stay in a hotel and order room service. Moms are people who have sexual fantasies and enjoy playing videos games in their pajamas every once in a while.  Some moms like to watch gross horror movies and get tattoos. And some moms like to go to Las Vegas every once in a while and drink one of those sweet drinks in the tall glasses with super-long straws. And moms want to be respected and feel like they have accomplished something great in life.

I think so many of us grow-up and only see our moms as “moms.” This is my chance to show my children that I am so much more and that they can be more, too—they just have to understand that if you live your life with good intentions and a good heart, you don’t have to sacrifice your family or your happiness.

Master of my destiny

About once a month I get a day when I can lie on the couch and watch television while the children do their homework. It usually lasts for about 20 minutes, but I enjoy it. Yesterday was one of those days.

I watched a little of Katie Couric’s new talk show and Sharon Osborne was her guest. Katie asked Sharon if she believed that women can have it all—career, marriage, children, etc. Sharon’s answered shocked me because I figured she would say, “Of course.”

She said, “No, I don’t believe that and I wish I could go back in time and give up all the money and the traveling and spend time with my children because they needed me.”
Not everyone can be that honest—especially on television.

I don’t believe you can have it all either, because in order to do something really well, then something else has to be placed on the back burner. I can see it in my own life. I can see what I have neglected over the years and what I nurtured. I can see what has thrived and what has suffered on the back burner.

I passed my thesis defense today.  So, as long as I can remember to finish my financial aid exit counseling in the next few weeks, I will earn my Masters of Fine Arts in Writing from Savannah College of Art and Design. I almost didn’t make it this far—there were many times when I thought about quitting.

I don’t like putting things on the back burner. I like to know that I am taking care of everyone and everything—I like to know that I am fulfilling my obligations. I also like to know that I am doing a great job and putting all of my effort into everything I do.

It was hard to find the right balance between school and home life. There were times when I couldn’t be at home for my children when they got off the bus. There were times when babysitters had to take them to their activities and sign my name on homework sheets.

There were times when I had to prepare to go to court the same week I had a major paper due. Just last week I was faced with Veronica’s trip to the emergency room for a fractured arm, my parents’ home in North Carolina burned to the ground, and my ex-husband told me that he plans to file a contempt charge against me and hopefully get me arrested.  This all happens the same time I try to finish my thesis, study for a test in another class, and try to complete my freelance work for my new job.

Luckily there is always room on the back burner for stuff I don’t have time to deal with. But I can’t always be lucky enough to put bad things on the back burner.

Some days I put Robby on the back burner and some days it is the kids. Some days it is school and some days it is work. But most days it is me.

I’m not trying to garner sympathy for the last statement. I think it is just the nature of most mothers. We tend to put ourselves last. Most times we never even realize we do it—it just comes natural. Perhaps this is why I don’t take many opportunities to lie on the couch and watch television.

Going back to school to get my masters degree was a decision that I made mostly for myself. I wanted to be self-sufficient and be able to take care of the children on my own. I couldn’t find a job with my bachelors degree, so it just seemed like the obvious choice to make.

Two years didn’t seem like a long time when I started the program. What’s funny is that I didn’t even enroll as a graduate student in the beginning. My self-esteem was so low that I enrolled as an undergrad. I thought I would spend some time getting my feet wet—I didn’t think there was any way I could get accepted to a graduate program.

But that only lasted a quarter and I put in my packet and started graduate school. Several months after I started school, I went to court to get my divorce and I asked for 2 years of alimony. “All I need is enough financial support to get through the next few years,” I told the mediator. My ex-husband agreed to my demands and the race began.

But I hit some major snags along the way. The children got sick sometimes. They had activities that required my attendance. I had my divorced finalized. Veronica got hurt and broke her legs. My bank account ran on empty and I worried about finding a way to pay the bills and buy groceries.

Two separate times I gave in to the pressure. I got into bed and cried. I convinced myself that I would quit school and find a job and maybe finish my degree later. I was tired of putting the children on the back burner. I was tired of being broke. I was tired of doing homework. I just wanted to be a good mom and have a normal life.

The last time I tried to quit, Robby sat me down and said, “I cannot let you quit. You are too smart to not have your masters degree. If I can finish my masters degree, then you can.”

For some reason, his words really struck a chord with me. Those words echoed through my mind for the next 9 months and carried me through to the end.

I’m not sure what the rest of my life will be like. I know that I still need to find a job and continue putting people and events on the back burner. I know I can’t have it all, but I also know that I don’t want to have it all. I just want to have what I have right now—healthy, thriving children, a happy marriage, and the confidence to hold my head high and know that I did something that makes me proud.

I haven’t been really proud of myself in a very long time—I can’t even remember the last time I felt pride about myself. Sure, I’ve been proud of my children or material objects, but not of myself.

Maybe pride is what has been missing all these years? I’m not sure, but I feel complete now and I’m more than happy to put my insecurities on the back burner. Hopefully they will simmer for a long time.

The journey is almost over...

Two years ago today, I began a journey to make my life better. I enrolled in the writing program at Savannah College of Art andDesign. Although I have a BA in English, I chose to enroll as an undergraduate. The thought of trying to get in as a graduate student overwhelmed me. I had to have a portfolio to submit and I assumed they wouldn’t want me and everyone would be better than me.

After a few weeks of undergrad classes, I realized I made the wrong choice. I quickly submitted my application for the graduate program and I got in with no problems. The feeling that everyone in the program is a better writer than me or that they get published more than me or that I’m too old to start a new career is a lingering insecurity that will probably always haunt me. Perhaps it is the reason I continue to work as I hard as I do.

Today, I began the final leg of that journey as my final quarter at SCAD began this morning. I honestly don’t know have I managed to juggle my life and my studies, but I have done it and I am completely exhausted. I am excited to see the nearing end of homework, projects, and research papers, but I’m also worried.

I thought a master’s degree would ensure my job security and I would go to a few job fairs and submit a few applications and then bam! I would get hired and start paying my school loans off and begin saving for my future.

After my divorce, I was left with no health insurance, no retirement, and no savings. That has not changed and my job prospects are not looking so hot right now.

Since February, I applied for over 20 jobs and I have not received one interview. I’m not panicking yet, but my stomach gets a tad queasy when I look at my bank statement and wonder how I will manage with no job andno school loans to fill in the blanks.

But when I started graduate school, I promised myself 2 things:

1.     I will not accept work from a company that I do not respect

2.     I will look for work outside of Savannah before I will take a dead end job just to pay the bills.

I don’t know what is going to happen in these next 10 weeks of my final days as a student. But I just cannot allow myself to believe that I have done all of this work for nothing. I know there is a job out there for me that will give me what I need. Maybe I’m just looking in the wrong place

Can't you see I've waited long enough?

Those of you who know me know that I love the Foo Fighters. Despite the hundreds of songs I have stored on my iPod, I tend to listen to a random shuffle of the six Foo Fighters' albums I have on my playlist.

This morning, I went to the gym to do my morning run on the treadmill. I don’t exercise for fitness or weight loss—I run for my sanity. So, this morning I had to crank up the speed to run off the stress that lingered from the holidays and starting a new quarter at SCAD.

Wasting Light is the last album the Foo Fighters put out. It has been nominated for several Grammys including their nod for album of the year. In my opinion, it’s the best album they have ever made.

I don’t have a favorite song on the album, but I do have a favorite running tune, “Walk.” It’s the last song on the album and Dave Grohl reportedly said he wanted to put the song at the end because it wraps up the album's theme of time and second chances.

The end of the song is the segment that resonates with me. Here are those lyrics:

Now
For the very first time
Don't you pay no mind?
Set me free again
You keep alive a moment at a time
But still inside a whisper to a liar
To sacrifice but knowing to survive
The first decline another state of mind
I'm on my knees, I'm praying for a sign
Forever, whenever
I never wanna die
I never wanna die
I never wanna die
I'm on my knees
I never wanna die
I'm dancing on my grave
I'm running through the fire
Forever, whatever
I never wanna die
I never wanna leave
I'll never say goodbye
Forever, whatever
Forever, whatever

I'm learning to walk again
I believe I've waited long enough
Where do I begin?
I'm learning to talk again
Can't you see I've waited long enough?
Where do I begin?

Several days ago I realized when I sat down to think about my New Year’s resolutions that something was very different about me this year. I couldn’t figure out what it was though. Then it hit me yesterday when I was walking onto campus to start my fourth quarter at SCAD—I don’t want to quit anymore. I’m excited to be alive—I’m excited to be living.

It may be hard to believe that behind this tough exterior is a very tired person. I’m tired of fighting and struggling to make ends meet. I’m tired of trying to balance my duties of mom with full-time student. I’m tired of looking at an empty bank account.

I’ve never considered suicide, but there have been days when I wished someone would come to my house and pick up my children and take them away for a while so I could hide from the world under my blankets. This thought has always bothered me because I love my children dearly and I hate the idea of being separated from them.

This morning I could feel the lyrics speaking to me-- “I’m dancing on my grave, I’m running through the fire…I never wanna die.” And it all became clear to me—not long ago, a part of me did want to die. It’s not the part of me that loves my children and wants to watch them grow up. It’s not the part of me that wants to earn my master’s degree. It’s not the part of me that wants to marry Robby.

So, I had to ask myself, “What other parts of me are there?” And I realized that the parts of me that wanted to quit seem to be dead now. They don't exist anymore. They don’t whisper “you’re stupid” in my ear any longer. I haven’t thought about having someone pick up my children in a very long time.

I have this new sense of energy and love for life that I cannot fully describe. I truly want to live again. And in the words of Dave Grohl, “I believe I’ve waited long enough.”