Now that I am a single mother I have to think about all kinds of things I never thought of before. The foremost in my mind is money. I can’t help but feel bad about the fact that I let Jordo shoulder that burden alone. I’ll be honest, I read his journals, and money was one of the main themes in them. It was a huge source of stress even though he told me on a daily basis “it’s alright babe, God will take care of us.” He always did but that didn’t alleviate the feeling of panic as bills rolled in and our bank account dwindled.
So now here I sit wondering if it’s worth it to get a job and bring in a little extra cash. I’m not in dire straights, but I could get there very easily if I stop paying attention. Here’s the thing, would I even be bringing in more money? I’d have to find childcare for the kiddo, which would cost money. I don’t want to get into some huge career which would take me away from him for hours and hours a day so should I even put in the effort?
I’m beginning to feel lazy and worthless on top of being tired from being a mom all day. It’s a very strange dichotomy. On one hand I know I work hard all day long and the rest I get when Jack naps or is in bed for the night is well deserved. On the other hand there’s regular society looking at me staying home all day/going to the park/hanging out with other mom friends which is then interpreted as lazy or easy or not really work at all, since I don’t get paid for it. So I have this feeling of uselessness, and a feeling of accomplishment all at the same time.
The feeling of uselessness is new. When Jordo was alive I was home taking of the house and son for him. It was ok because he was out contributing to society and bringing home a paycheck. Now what who do I do it for? For Jack? For myself? I have this thought constantly in my head that I need to be doing something. I need to have a job that’s “real” so when people ask me what I do I can tell them, I’m a barista, I’m a librarian, I write and actually get paid for it.
When I tell people I’m a stay at home mom they look at me blankly, glance quickly at my left hand and upon seeing it bare the blank look quickly turns to confusion before they say “oh, well that’s nice” or something along those lines.
Why does it matter so much what we do for a living? Why isn’t what we do for other people more important? Or what we do for our families, no matter what sort of family we have? Why is our occupation the end all and be all of who we are? Maybe people should talk more about who they are rather than what they do.