It’s a hard call to divulge one’s life on a blog while working in in the corporate world. I am honest and up front about my blog to employers so there are no surprises to any prospective torturer employer. It is no secret that I dream to be a famous writer.
It’s sometimes hard to know what to write on a blog though.
Should 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.
Or is that boring to the masses?
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.
Or does that sound like mom bragging?
Do I 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.
Does anyone really want to read about disease?
Should I 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?
Or should some parts of a bloggers life remain private?
The reason my posts recently dwindled, and my dream wavered is the job I was offered last October ended up being an all-hours of the day and night 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 a mother as well as 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 cement steps of pain. There I lay rolling around the ground in agony, unbeknown 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 entered my bedroom, as if I am some stranger in his house. It feels like I have been away in a prison camp. When I finally awoke from a weeks slumber I decided I wasn’t going back to quit my current job and find something else.
So, 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.
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.
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 backbone, along with a broken ankle.
Until next time-
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