Michelle Smiles

Teaching my children to question authority, except mine.

Gulp

March11

Last night’s shoe purchase soothed my adult-onset OCD. Because I am so overwhelmed with all of the things I need to do in order to get myself down to Guatemala to foster, I’ve been getting stuck on details. Most recently the shoes and giving notice at work. I can now check both of those off my lists.

Yes, that is right, I gave my 3 week notice at work on Friday – hence the title of this post. I had been trying to resign since Wednesday morning but kept chickening out. Quitting my job makes it all very real and very final. It scares me to walk away from my income source but I also feel guilty leaving. My boss is so over worked already that I know she doesn’t have time to replace me or absorb my duties. And my project isn’t done…although it is nearer to complete than I would have guessed if asked 3 months ago. It’s funny that I always thought if I could get to this level, I would be able to make a difference. By getting to this level, I’ve simply discovered that the egos are bigger, the need to protect territory is more ingrained, and the memory of why we are all here (to help kids and families) has faded. I did manage to finally get a salary that most college students who didn’t major in psychology might expect upon graduation – woohoo! (By the way – friends don’t let friends major in Psychology.) Yes, I am in a position to effect change system wide rather than just helping one child at a time but the people around me throw up so many obstacles and the system itself is so large and dysfunctional it becomes almost impossible to change anything. Because I don’t like what I am doing now, my identity isn’t wrapped up in my job like it always has been in the past but I still don’t know how to not work. I’ve never not worked. I worked 1 full time and 2 part time jobs for the first 4 years after college while working on my masters degree in my spare time. When I finally eased back to only one job and wasn’t going to grad school anymore it felt positively sinful. Since hitting my 30’s and marrying Steve, my priorities have shifted and the importance of my job has dropped but to not have a job at all is frightening to me. And the fact that my job isn’t that important is a major shift in my identity. It was never about my “career” – it was always about the people that I was helping. I love being a social worker (man I sound like a pollyanna). I loved doing therapy with battered women and kids and addicts. I loved helping parents be better parents. I loved really connecting with adolescents who thought no adult could possibly understand them. I loved helping a broken and defeated woman find her strength and power again. Now I am trying to frame my new job (stay at home mom) in those terms. I’m trying to think of all of the amazing things I will doing to help one child, my child, grow into a happy and confident woman. And instead of pennies, I’ll be paid in giggles and sloppy kisses and sticky hands and crayon drawings decorating my frig and discovering the world through the awe of a child’s eyes. I’m still scared to have quit my job but the terms of the new one seem pretty cool.

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