To help me through my holiday depression I’ve been watching a fair amount of movies on television. I’m currently watching “White Christmas” on AMC. Since this particular network is geared towards airing “classic” movies, it is often fraught with ads for senior citizens – like the constantly running ad for AARP insurance. “Let’s leave a little something for the kids,” the advanced-aged actors say. And it makes me sad because if I were to die tomorrow, my kids would have absolutely nothing monetarily to gain from my passing. Oh, and probably hate Christmas because they would be reminded of my demise each time the holiday rolled around.
For the past eight years I’ve depended on a man to cover me on his insurance and now that we’re divorced my life is literally worth nothing. This makes me sick. Sure, I have a few things to pass on to my children like beautiful silverware and a few other tidbits that my mother has given me over the years. But, if I were to die tomorrow, well, that would suck on so many levels.
I’m not meaning to be morbid here. It is a fact that I’ve lost many people this year so death is sorta on my mind. And aside from these deaths, I’ve experienced a tremendous amount of loss. I had a miscarriage. My marriage, which was WAY broken, finally died a very fitful death. Even though we were not very financially secure throughout our marriage, losing any sort of income is cause for hyperventilating. I’m starting over. And right now, I’m worth nothing. At least in a fiscal sense.
So, what does one do when faced with this situation? I’m 43 and I have nothing to show for my life with the exception of two beautiful children. I’ve not been anything but an excellent caregiver to my children, especially over the past eight years. And, unfortunately, this is difficult to convey on a resume. I can hear it now: “Oh. You’ve been a mom for the past several years. Good for you.” Re-entering the workplace is gonna be a bitch.
I recently took a test on what my ideal line of work would be. It turns out that everything I’m trained for is something that grates on my last nerve. I don’t like tedious work (like benefits administration, filing, or running reports). I don’t like conflict. I don’t like negotiation. Basically, what this test reported was that I should be a writer. Yeah. Okay. I’m on it. Easy Peasy, right?
I’m certainly not lacking for material. I know my posts have been few this year, mainly because of my “mental health” vacation, the ridiculous amount of loss I’ve experienced and divorce proceedings, but I have to say that I’ve garnered more material in the past 12 months than I’ve gathered in my entire life. In other words, this year has sucked big monkey balls. I’m working on writing about all of these events but many of them have just been too painful to write about. I’m not quite ready to rip off the band aid. I just got the bleeding under control and am not sure I’m ready to start hemorrhaging again.
I know it will come with time – that time heals all wounds – but this year has nearly taken me out. I’m tired. I’m cranky. And so ready for this year to be over. And you know me, I have to find the humor in things. Until I can do that I’m not ready to share.
Too bad I need a paying job right now. Maybe Santa will bring me an agent this year.
Stronger Than I Look 