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.

Trying to write...

I’ve had a hard time sitting down to write my blog lately. I blame it on my crazy schedule and trying to finish my thesis, but the truth is someone is trying to suck the joy out of my writing and he is starting to wear me down.

I was lucky as a child. I grew up in Dublin, Texas and I had some of the best classmates a kid could ever ask for. We were a very tight group—all 43 of us. I went to school with about 12 of those classmates from the time we entered kindergarten until we graduated high school.

I say I was lucky because I was never really bullied. I’m sure my experience is different than others from my school, and I don’t want to paint a rosy picture of Dublin. But I admit that I had it pretty darn good.

I think the worst thing that ever happened to me was when someone would make fun of my glasses or my crooked teeth or tell me my family was poor. I got made fun of for not going to church and for the fact that 

Daddy had a ponytail. A few girls called me a bitch behind my back and a boy threatened to kick my ass in the line at the snack bar, but that was about it.

So, perhaps my idea of bullying is different than others, but I feel pretty confident that I know a bully when I see on.

I believe a bully is a person who tries to scare you into doing something or tries to scare you into not doing something. A bully is the kind of person who threatens you if he doesn’t get his way.

A good bully knows your weaknesses and preys on them. A seasoned bully waits until you’re most vulnerable and then launches his attack.

I want to be that person who says, “Huff and puff all you want, I’m not afraid of you anymore.” Sometimes I do. But sometimes I get tired of fighting and looking over my shoulder all the time. Sometimes I’m exhausted and sometimes I start to believe that I am doing something wrong.

What’s even worse is when the bully believes what he is saying. He sounds so convincing that you begin to question everything you say and do.

That’s why I haven’t been able to write much. I feel like every word I type is being analyzed and criticized and it bothers me. It shouldn’t.

I’ve done nothing wrong. I’ve never lied. I’ve never been malicious. I’ve never harassed anyone. By the way, a writer has to do all of those things in order to be charged with defamation.

But despite the fact that I know I have done nothing wrong, that little voice in my head keeps saying, “Just delete the whole damn blog and start over.”

The part that bothers me the most is that I find myself not writing about important topics in my life because I don’t want to share those thoughts with some people, but a blog is an open forum and I can’t control who reads it. I know I can delete this bully as a subscriber, but he will continue to read anyway.

I’m going to try to keep writing and I’m going to try to keep writing about things that are important to me and to those who care about me. But a part of me feels very defeated today. An even bigger part of me doesn’t want to share my words, thoughts, and photos any more. I’m not sure what I am going to do about all of this, but I’m going to try to do what I tell my children to do—I’m going to ignore the bully and find someone who can take care of the problem for me.

Turn off the voices

I had my first job interview yesterday. I felt confident about the job. I know I’m qualified and I figured I would do okay with the question and answer part of the interview.

The owner of the company told me I seemed too quiet and shy to do the job properly. “I need to you to go out and speak to the press and make phone calls and I just don’t see you doing that very well.”

I almost laughed when he said that. “I don’t know why you feel that way. I do those things all the time and I do them very well.”

It made me think about how people perceive me. I guess I do come across to strangers as a quiet, insecure person who doesn’t like to make a fuss about stuff. But those who know me realize that I don’t mind making a fuss if I need to.

I asked Robby, “Is that what people think about me?”

He laughed and said, “I definitely don’t think that. I’ve been looking for your off switch since you first opened your mouth.”

We laughed about it and he told me that the right job would come along and that I didn’t need to change to get a job.

I don’t know if my quiet nature is a sign of weakness or not. But I’m just not that in-your-face kind of person. I guess I could have walked into that job interview and pretended to be this loud, pushy force to be reckoned with, but I would have felt silly acting like that. It’s just not who I am.

I probably won’t get that job. But I’m not sure that I really want it. I can’t spend the next few years trying to convince people I am someone I am not.

It has taken me many years to figure out who I really am. I am secure in the fact that I can be forceful and aggressive when I need to be. After all, I’m that lady who cut down trees in the middle of the night to protect my children on the street. That example probably wouldn’t have gotten me the job though.

I don’t know what example I could have given at the interview to prove to him that I am not some shy mousy wall flower. I guess I didn’t feel the need to go out of my way to prove him wrong, because I’m tired of trying to explain myself to people these days.

I know I do the best I can and that I always try to do the right thing. I also know that some people will never see myself the way I see myself. They just see what they want to see or what they expect to see.

I try to be okay with that, but there will always be that part of me that wants to show people they are wrong about me.  There will always be that part of me that kind of believes what people say about me. There will always be that voice in my head that says, “you suck” and “you’re stupid.”

Hopefully I can continue to move forward and not dwell too much on the negative words that continue to come my way from job interviews and people in my personal life. Hopefully some of the those voices will just go away and give me some peace and quiet for once.

Dream job, where art thou?

Focus…focus…focus. I keep telling myself to just focus and get my work done, but my mind has been in a million different places lately.

Some of it is worry—I still have no job so I spend most of my free time scouring the internet for new job postings. I am running out of money. Luckily I’m thrifty, but someone has decided not to pay me the money he owes me so my small stash is almost on empty. Haven’t even started to think about how I will handle that situation—just add it to the list of things I have no control over.

Some of it is the fact that I have so much to do that I can’t decide what to do first and I waste time going from task to task instead of focusing on one task. My head seems to be in the clouds all day.

And some of it is because I’m focused on writing. Maybe this is what it is like to be a writer. I find myself daydreaming about how I should have written something different or what needs to be added or what needs to be cut. I guess it is better than writers block, but I know my children have got to be feeling a little left out these days.

So, then that adds guilt and now I am a complete overworked mom who feels like she is getting pulled in a million directions and I haven’t even mentioned my husband yet.

Robby is supportive as always, but I can tell he is starting to feel the pressure as well. Tread lightly seems to be his new catch phrase—kids, tread lightly, your mom has had another bad day.

Yes, I need to focus. But on what? Family, work, money, sleep, eating, cooking, cleaning, getting kids to do homework, feeding the dogs, finding work…

Sometimes I feel like I am my own worst enemy. I set myself up to be too busy. Yesterday, I wondered if I did it on purpose. Perhaps I did—maybe a little? I guess I was trying to distract myself from something that was lurking in the back of my mind.

When I decided to go back to school and get my masters, I promised myself that I would reach for the stars and that nothing would hold me back from my dream job. I thought my dream job was working for a magazine company in New York. I even pictured the apartment the children and I would live in and how we would need to live close to a park where we could walk the dogs. We would go to museums and shows and ride the subway. I wanted to give them an amazing life.

Last night I went to a job presentation by Conde Nast magazine corporation—they are the premier magazine publishers in New York and publish some of my favorite magazines like Wired, Vanity Fair, and The NewYorker.

I printed out my several copies of my resume, publishing lists, and writing samples. I grabbed a handful of business cards and put on a killer outfit. I made the decision to go for it. I knew Robby would never want to leave Savannah, but I had to find out if I could do this.

Everything went as planned until they began to play the promotional video about working for Conde Nast. I slowly began to realize that I have no interest in moving to New York. I have no interest in becoming one person in a sea of other writers and creative professionals. I have no interests in traffic, apartments, commuting, or uprooting my family.

For the first time in weeks, I became focused. I realized I don’t want to move. I want to make it big right here. I love this city, I love our home, I love my friends, and I love being a writer here. It may take a while to find that perfect job, but that’s okay.

I have a husband who adores me and probably would pack up and move to New York if that is what I wanted to do. For the first time in a long time, both of my children are really happy with their lives. And when 

I’m not distracted with my wants and wishes, I’m actually very happy with life here, too. And if I stopped moping around long enough, I realize I have the perfect life right now.

I got my focus back today. No telling what I will get accomplished now.

Getting so close...

It’s been a while since I wrote a blog. I've started some but erased them because they just weren't clicking.

I have 7 weeks of grad school to complete and then I’m done--hopefully forever—I hate homework.

In order to graduate, I have to write my thesis project. Our writing program is non-fiction based, so my thesis must be a non-fiction piece—it’s a story about my life.

I’ve spent weeks writing this thing and it is emotionally draining to say the least. I’ve been reading through old journals during the process in order to keep events fresh in my mind—that’s also emotionally draining.

It’s amazing what the brain chooses to forget. It’s also amazing to see how much I have changed in the past 4 years.

I guess I am most surprised by how easily I allowed myself to become a shell of who I really was. I wish I could turn back the clock and give my children the mother they deserved earlier in their lives and see how differently they would turn out—but there is no sense in putting those ideas in my head. I did the best I could at the time. I just had no idea that I had become that person.

I became a person who would fight battles for my children and my friends, but never fought for myself. I never made anyone treat me with respect. I’m sure a therapist would say it was because I didn't respect myself. But I don’t see it that way exactly.

Writing this thesis has opened my eyes to how broken I was before I even married to my exhusband. My life was a series of “getting so close to the prize” but always falling short because someone else put their needs ahead of mine—I put their needs ahead of mine.

As a mother, I feel like I should put my needs before my children. I think most mothers instinctively feel that way. But I put my happiness on the back burner for everyone else and it wasn't because they made me—it was because I felt comfortable with that arrangement.

I guess the biggest wish is to go back in time to find my child self and whisper in her ear—“You don’t have to feel guilty for being happy. It’s okay to get your way, too.” And while I know that I cannot do that either, I can just continue to whisper it to my adult self.

It’s not selfish to make yourself happy. As a mother, you should make your happiness the number one priority, because your children cannot be happy when you are sad—I know that first-hand.

I’ve also realized that I needed all of those bad experiences in my life to get to where I am today. I finally have my hands on the prize—there is no more “getting so close” anymore. 

We are worthy of love

I’ve always been told that my children are a reflection of me. I like to think of that reflection in flattering terms. A few weeks ago, I was hit with the reality that my children are indeed a reflection of me—a reflection that embodies the good and the bad parts of me. And just like how I cannot change my appearance in the mirror by saying “I don’t have wrinkles on my forehead,” I cannot change my reflection in my children by saying “Don’t feel like you aren’t worthy of love.”

We are having a hard time with Veronica. Sure, it’s normal for an 11 year old girl to be emotional and dramatic, but she seems to carry more baggage than normal. She just started a new school and it’s an art school that can kick her out at any time if she can’t pull her weight with grades and her artwork. That’s a lot of pressure for a kid. She also has the added pressure of wearing leg braces and using a wheelchair. That’s tough for any middle school student trying to fit in.

But for the first time, I noticed something I had never noticed before—she has picked up on a habit that I have been trying to overcome for several years now. She feels she is not worthy of love. I think she probably doesn’t even love herself that much.

It’s frustrating because I have done everything I can to make sure she feels love. I am happy now and I have the love of a great man who adores the children. Being happy helps, but I cannot undo the damage that was done to her. Feeling like someone you love doesn’t love you back is one of the most painful experiences anyone can have. But when a parent makes you feel this way, it affects every relationship you have for the rest of your life. I experienced this as a child. I never felt lovable. My parents have apologized for making me feel this way and I am working on putting this behind me, but it’s obvious I have passed this onto my daughter.

But I realize how that feeling of being unworthy caused me to make the choices I made in the past. I continue to make mistakes and allow people to bully me and make me feel guilty in an effort to keep the peace and make the children happy.

I know I have to change these habits in order to reflect a different person on my children. I have to reflect exactly how I want them to be treated by other people and how I want them to treat other people, but more importantly, I have to reflect how I want them to treat themselves.

Veronica is lovable and I love her dearly. Every time I feel myself get weak and begin to give in to the bullying, I just picture her face. I tell myself, “We deserve better than this. We deserve to be loved wholeheartedly, not when it’s convenient.”

To hear my child say, “It’s okay, I’m used to it,” breaks my heart. No one should have to be used to being treated badly by someone they love. And yet, I have allowed it in order to keep the peace and to do what I think is best for everyone. But it’s not good enough and I was wrong. Perhaps if I stand up to the bullying, then one day she will too. Until then, I have to find a way to make her feel worthy of real love.

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