It has been brought to my attention that I have not been blogging like I used to, or recently, really not much at all.  My friends pressure me to share more of my life on this blog, in that they feel the real story lies there, along with my musings about raising Brian.

It's a hard call to divulge one's life while working in in the corporate world.  I am honest and up front about my blog so there are no surprises to any prospective torturer employer.  It is no secret that I dream to be a famous writer.  I am also up-front about that dark corner of my personality this dream, even though some employers look at me like "Oh, you are one of those menopause ladies playing with a new life idea [insert roll of eyes here]." Maybe, but at least I have a dream...

I pride myself on creating a blog that is funny and lifts people's spirits.  It is my intent that everyone leave here having enjoyed the experience, with a good laugh at the craziness we call parenting, especially that quirky relationship known as "Mother and Son".  I hesitate to weave more of my life into the blog unless I can tell it in such a way that you laugh and take your own life a little less seriously.

Could I begin writing more of my life where I recently rolled down a flight of stairs and managed a grade three sprain to my right ankle (it's a ligament tear where it slightly fractured the bone it was attached to)?  Or do I start with the interview to be a literary assistant  with one of the best literary agents around, only to end up being her second choice?  And how I fought to accept the fact that I didn't land the job I wanted more than water?  Or do I tell how I then interviewed with one of the top women speakers from The Secret and Chicken Soup for the Soul, only to miss that job because my Vedic Astrology chart didn't line up with her Karma?  Here I always thought being born on the Fourth of July made me a special, sacred soul ... who knew?  Or how the thought that I was born at the wrong hour made me laugh during the weeks that followed?  Or there's the story of the crash of the Real Estate Bubble and how it trickled flooded the lives of my friends and my ex husband, and how my ex husband and I pooled our resources to save each other?  Yes folks, hell did freeze over. 

Then there is the story of Brian's struggles to overcome his learning disability, ultimately making his way to A's and B's going into the 8Th grade.  There was his triumphant ability to overcome his stuttering and stand up in front of audiences to perform in school plays.  He now is looking at Engineering as a career choice.

Or write of my success at overcoming our broken medical system in the treatment of Hashimotos Disease, and my search for answers regarding hypothyroidism?  Friends and family speak often of the fight I waged, insisting on the right doctor and treatment protocol.  The days of sleeping 24 hours and thinking I was dying are a faint memory.  If anyone has been watching Oprah struggle with the same thing you can understand how it can happen to anyone.

Or write about the single life-defining event, a grave mistake I made which brought me to my knees three years ago?  The event which forced me begin to write after 20 years of shoving my creativity so far down my throat that it was buried under my left heel like a small piece of dirt?  And the subsequent story of how writing healed my wounded soul?

I often hold back from these kind of stories because I think raising children is a kick.  I enjoy writing about the experiences we share as parents and let the world know how much we have in common. We are more alike than different. Sharing those difference over laughter is the sweet nectar of my life.

The reason my posts recently dwindled, and my dream wavered is that the final job I chose way back last October (the one that was to support me while I write) ended up being an all-consuming position that despised family time and days off.  The Symphony tried to say it was just the world of non-profit, and I tried to fit that mold. Like a magician I juggled Brian's needs against a work schedule that placed no value in the fact that I was first a mother, then an employee.  It was as if the best part of me was not allowed to exist.  Brian consistently begged me to quit, but I kept putting him off, promising things would get better ... but they didn't.

Then two weekends ago the Universe jumped right into the middle of my life.  My dearest friend Elisabet handed me the reigns to her dog so she could run to the bathroom.  Without paying attention, her dog took off in a dead run down a flight of stairs, hurling me into the air and tumbling me down 12 hard steps of pain.  There I lay rolling around the ground in agony, unbeknownst to me that this would change the direction of my life.

I was forced into bed to recover, and literally slept for a week.  My son was so happy to see me that he constantly enters my bedroom, as if I am some stranger in his house.  It feels like I have been away on a long survival vacation.  When I finally awoke from a weeks slumber I decided I wasn't going back to work at the same place.

I resigned. 

Brian, of course, is thrilled.  We all know that if a teenage boy shows emotions of elation, then I am very much on the right track.  Besides, now he has someone to feed him so he doesn't have to get out of his gaming chair.  I mean, come on Mom.

But ever try to interview for work when you have a torn ligament in your right ankle?  I've been on a couple, and don't think the interviewers have any idea just exactly how much pain I was in.  Needless to say I hope the contentious furrow of my eyebrows didn't make them think I was just sitting there passing gas. 

Some of you may think that during these tremulous times, it is crazy for me to walk away from a secure job.  Maybe.  But there was so much unhappiness back there, and I don't resonate with that kind of sadness.  Life is a precious gift, and time spent with Brian are pure moments of bliss.  Work can be demanding and exhausting, but should also be fun and lift your spirits, other wise, it's just another paycheck.  Time away from Brian had better be worth that paycheck.

So here I am ... back as the writing redhead you know.  My friends should be happy that I've given you a small window into my life. 

Ahhhhhh .... Brian just asked me to fix him something to eat.  We are at that point of teenage where he resembles a new born bird with it's mouth open 11 am to 10 pm.  Where the food goes,  I have no idea, but he has already grown an inch this summer.

And I have grown a braver soul.

Until next time-

C

http://www.aweekinthelifeofaredhead.com