For the past few months, my husband and I have realized that our lives are changing and we need to seek the best living situation for our family; in other words, find a place and city where we can all be happy and where our girls can thrive and have a good education, someplace we can live in for years to come, a place we can call 'home'. And so because there's much to do before moving to where ever we'll be moving to, having a full time job and taking care of the girls doesn't quite help to move things along. That's how the decision to quit my job came up, on one December evening, a month and a half before I said goodbye to the place that had become my second home. It was quite bittersweet: excitement for not having to deal with the commute and the frustration of being late for work every day and not being completely “there” for my kids and, on the other hand, sadness for leaving behind my good friend of ten years, the desk that had become my refuge from the madness at home and, where I felt most comfortable when it came to writing and thinking. It's strange but, I will miss that desk, the corner of room 806.
It's been two weeks now and to be honest, I haven't missed the office much yet but, of course, I'm currently on vacation. I immediately distanced myself from my reality so we'll have to wait until I'm back in New York, home and without a job for the first time in eleven years (yes, I'm repeating myself but hey, a lot goes down in eleven years; not something to take lightly). I'm not even sure that I want to face my reality back home. I love my children and I'm glad I have the chance to be there for them. I'm aware of how fortunate I am to have the opportunity to enjoy their childhood, to watch them grow, to be a bigger part of their lives but, I'm afraid of being a STAY at HOME mom. I even have a hard time saying those words.
Being a SAHM is not what I had envisioned for myself. Not that I think it's a bad thing for I have huge respect for those women that can raise their children well, maintain a clean home and prepare decent meals every day. It's a job like any other only that it's a much more important one. But I'm afraid of failing, of not being capable, of thinking less of myself for not having the successful career I once dreamed of.
I think I've written and rambled quite a bit. More to come on this decision I have to reach. Right now, I'm in what used to be my bedroom during my teenage years, enjoying the quiet night and oddly cool weather.