A little clarification first...on my last post about pumping vs MDI, someone commented that they thought pumping was safer than MDI. I'm not sure if my post gave the impression that I think one is "safer" than the other or not, but personally, I don't think it's a matter of which is "safer". Neither option is "dangerous" on its own. But both can be lethal if they're not carefully used, but used correctly and with the thought, they're life-giving and phenomenal tools. We each just choose what we're most comfortable with.
On to what's been bugging me for some time now. I'm lost. I feel lost, drifting along and not sure what the directions are, let alone which one to head in. The story behind it is a bit of a long one. I'm not sure if I've mentioned it on here before or not, but I actually have a college degree. I graduated in 2003 with a degree in Elementary Education. I took a position as a paraprofessional/teacher's aide in an elementary school for the next school year. I applied and applied and applied. There were no openings and no job offers. Until I applied for one randomly at an education job fair. I got one offer for employment. In East Baton Rouge Parish, Louisiana. My husband, who was still my boyfriend at the time, was still in grad school. I have no doubt that if I'd taken that job offer, I wouldn't have married my husband and wouldn't have my two gorgeous children. I've never regretted turning that offer down. Instead, I spent the next school year taking whatever substitute teaching jobs came up while my husband finished his schooling, worked three jobs, and applied for permanent positions in the Twin Cities (we were in a college town just south of Minneapolis back then). When he got his first major job offer and moved up to the cities, I followed. I found a job doing before- and after-school child care. And when I was fired from that job (conveniently, the day after I turned in a fellow co-worker for showing up to work "three sheets to the wind"), I applied for a secretarial job. I never regretted that move either. I made some great friends, we managed to buy our home, get married, and conceive a child. When I was five months pregnant with Lily, my supervisor, whom I adored, went on leave to take care of her husband while he battled cancer. As he slowly lost his battle, I watched "the big boss" take away all of my supervisor's most enjoyable job duties. He stripped her position down until it was nothing more than a glorified receptionist and my position, as her assistant, was switched over to be supervised by someone who had told me before I announced my pregnancy that I "shouldn't bother having children because they're not worth the trouble". And so, at six and a half months along, I quit my job and decided to stay home until Lily was born and then look for a new position after.
Well, one thing led to another and now, nearly five years have passed without me returning to work. I've never regretted that decision either. I'm so blessed to have had the ability to stay home with my children! I'm lucky to have a husband who has not only supported me in this, but has shared in the decision and has encouraged me. My intention when Lily was born was to return to school in order to earn a Database Administrators Certificate. Not because I have any passion for it, but because jobs are somewhat plentiful and pay is good. And it's what I was doing as an "administrative assistant". I still had that intention until about a year ago. And then, something changed. I changed. I became more active. Suddenly, spending my days sitting on my rear-end at a desk doesn't sound appealing any more. The idea has become distasteful. And my husband has noticed. Surprisingly, he's actually offered more encouragement. I know he feels a huge burden, being the only one bringing in an income. But, he tells me to take my time and figure out what I want to do, what will make me happy. He tells me that there's no rush. I'm not sure where he found the generosity and patience to tell me that. I know he's disappointed in me. I'm not the most motivated of people. Actually, that's putting it way too nicely. I'm horribly un-motivated. I don't clean like he wishes I would. I spend money way more than I should. I don't keep myself in check and fall into depressed states randomly. I don't hold up my end of things and he's always having to take up the slack. I'm trying to work on that, but it's not easy and I keep slipping back into old, ugly habits. It hurts me to know that he's disappointed in me and to know that I'm increasing his burden. The problem is, the more I feel his disappointment, the more I feel like I'm not good enough, the more I want to just crawl into bed and hide from it all. Ugly cycle!
Anyway, here's the thing...I'm 34-years-old and I still have no clue what I want to be when I grow up! I have lots of ideas. Some of them are not at all practical or probable. I'd love to write books. But I have no clue where to start with that and to be honest, I don't have the confidence in myself and my abilities that it would take to do something like that. I'd love to do something with our church or something with being active and healthy. Not sure that there are any positions out there for either of those though. Obviously, I'd like to make enough money that we could start really paying off some of our massive student loan debt. I have no desire to go back into education. Not because I didn't enjoy working with the students, but because I hated working in a bureaucratic, politically-charged, under-appreciated industry. But that's about all I have. What do I want to do with my life?