The night before the Thanksgiving holiday, I received a message that I was being let go from my job, leaving me reeling in shock and tears, as I faced a holiday season with five kids and no stable income.
As a freelancer, I’m somewhat used to instability in my work, but as my writing jobs have slowly vanished over the course of the past year, having my last contract gig taken away really stung.
I will admit that I’m panicked and feeling all the emotions from embarrassment to fear to depression over being an almost 40-year-old woman with no real prospects or plans for the future, but I’m also trying to reframe being let go positively.
My family has always relied on my income
My husband and I have five children — three of whom are now teenagers — and while my family has always relied on my income to make ends meet, life feels more expensive than ever.
Our oldest is going to college next fall, our second oldest is about to turn 16, and wants to drive. Several of our children are involved in travel sports, and between the groceries and home upkeep bills alone, it truly feels like one of the most financially intensive times in our lives.
I also don’t have the luxury of a wealthy spouse to pick up the pieces. My husband is a public school teacher in a very rural district, and we have even qualified for free lunches ourselves. Therefore, the most logical and practical thing for me to do would be to rush to find a stable, full-time job ASAP.
But I’m going to be honest with you: a tiny piece of me is shouting to take this time to explore what I actually want to do in this next stage of my life.
Being let go has coincided with a shift in my motherhood
Somewhat coincidentally, the change in my job status has also happened alongside a shift in my path as a mother. This fall, my youngest child started kindergarten. After 17 straight years, I was no longer needed in a full-time capacity at home like I was before. While my focus has always been on being available to my kids first and fitting in work in the margins of family life and naptime, that need has significantly lessened.
That’s not to go without saying that I’m not needed — I’ve actually shared that in many ways, parenting older kids has felt more time and emotionally intensive for me, but I do feel a shift in how I view my identity and sense of self in passing the baby and toddler stage after spending so much time in it. Who am I when the kids are gone? How will I fill my days? Will I ever be able to retire and live comfortably if I’ve never worked a ‘real’ job?
Suddenly, I’m facing the reality of what my life will look like as my kids start to leave the nest. As a freelancer, I’ve always cobbled together whatever writing jobs I could, so while I had steady work (up until now), I never had a true career path or felt “settled” in my role. Truthfully, I felt like I was just faking it until I got too old or someone realized I wasn’t a good writer after all.
Now, it seems like my time is up.
While I try not to panic about mounting bills, I’m exploring some passion projects
I know I need to find real work, and I have put out feelers. I hold my nursing license, so I’ve already spoken with a recruiter at a local hospital and applied for some remote nursing positions.
But I’m also trying to do some things just for fun.
For instance, a few months ago, I trained to become a sub at our local library, and I signed up to be a recess monitor at my daughter’s school (I thought it would be fun to see her at recess and get some fresh air, but I’ll report back on that after I actually do it!).
Last Saturday, I worked my first shift at the library, and I loved it. It doesn’t pay very much, but I loved having a reason to get dressed and do my hair, the peace and quiet of a library on a winter afternoon, and the simple satisfaction of helping people find their next great read. I had an absolute blast, and my husband even remarked that I was ‘jovial’ when I got home.
I’m also exploring some other business ideas that have been on the back burner, based on things I enjoy, such as self-publishing fiction books on Amazon, becoming certified as a personal trainer, or expanding the small farm my husband and I own.
I know it’s a time to explore what the next part of my life looks like. I’m feeling that sort of restlessness that only a mother in the throes of perimenopause who has dedicated nearly two decades of her life to others can feel.
