October 14, 2004

• UPdate:

  
  

  My car is ready so I can pick it up now.  And the manager who interviewed me called to let me know they offered the position to someone else who had more experience.  Bummer. 

  
  

   

  
  

  I Keep Thinking ...

  
  

  I was supposed to hear yesterday whether I got the job that I was really hoping for, but no call.  ~sigh~  I was offered a cashier position at Target last Friday.  But then the arrangements I thought were in place for childcare fell through.  SO when I had to tell them I could only work days and no weekends, they withdrew their offer. 

  
  

  I'm back to square one, looking for a day job. 

  
  

  In the meantime, I'm in another one of those places I never thought I'd be.  I made that appointment with the Human Services people absolutely confident that I would never keep it.  But ... looks like I'll be there with my paperwork filled out.  How do single moms do it?  Its very frustrating.  If it were just me, if I had no family obligations, I could have been working months ago.  I found out when I filled out the preliminary forms that the boys and I are poverty stricken.  In fact, we fall in the category of the 30th percentile level of poverty.  I could get a good job and we'd still be officially poor. 

  
  

  Yet we have food in the cupboard, we have a roof over our head, warm clothes, and an internet connection.  Okay, I know that part of the reason that we have these things is that I have accumulated resources from before my marriage ended.  If I'd had to start from scratch providing these things for my kids, the scene would be very different.  I'm grateful that I'm not in the position of some women I've known who literally left their marriage with nothing more than the clothes on their backs.  I've also had help from friends who stepped in and demonstrated that they won't let me fall.  I had the grace of almost six months rent free living. 

  
  

  My therapist and I have had this conversation about how surreal it is to know that my means are so meager and yet to feel so ... comfortable.  It's the very definition of cognitive dissonance.  The numbers say one thing and my actual daily living experience says something entirely different. 

  
  

  There's a parable in the Bible about people who went to work for a certain man.  He offered them a certain wage for the job and they agreed to take it.  Then the clock ticked and at midday, he hired more people and offered them the same wage as those who'd been working since that morning.  The clock tocks and not long before the day ends, he hires even more people and pays them the same thing he pays the people who have labored hard all day.  The people who've been there all day complain at what they see as unfair treatment.  The employer answers by pointing out that he paid them the wage they agreed to work for.  He asks them if it's not his money to do with as he wishes?  What is it to them if he chooses to be generous with these late-comers. 

  
  

  I'm a late-comer.  It seems to me that anyone born in America is starting out in the field at sometime after 4 pm. we are so far ahead of the rest.  No wonder we are the envy of the world.  Azar Nafisi describes the attitude of the Islamic Republic of Iran toward the United States.  She says that we are simultaneously the object of scorn and great envy.  America has been elevated to legendary and fantastical status in the eyes of those who see us as coming to the field and reaping rewards for labor we have not performed.  For the first time in my life, I truly understand where they are coming from.  Of course, I fear that unless I get a job quickly, I have further to fall.  But fear and guilt are the rocks and baboons that keep me laughing.

  
  

  I don't have my car back.  They keep telling me that it will be ready soon.  It was supposed to be ready on Tuesday, but when I called yesterday they were still working on it.  I want my car back.  I know this may sound unreasonable and childish, but I'm tired of driving this snazzy Mustang.  I haven't earned a snazzy Mustang and it just feels wrong to be getting around in this fancy car with its killer stereo system.  Okay, it feels wrong when I think about it.  When I'm driving, I really enjoy the way it handles on curves and  accelerates on hills.  But I'm ready to be back in the Sunfire with speakers that squeak if I turn the volume up past a whisper and an engine that whines on a 2% grade.  I'd like to back the clock up a bit to a time where I feel more comfortable.

  
  

  Do I sound depressed?  I'm not depressed, I don't care what the doctor says.  And that's something else that I'm conflicted about.  See, according to the questionaires, the assessments and the diagnosis of two respected professionals, I'm clinically depressed.  I don't see myself as depressed.  Especially since I started using my affirmations and word pictures.  It's just impossible to be depressed if I'm laughing, and between the rock and the baboon, I laugh a lot.  So I'm working at being the best parent I can be, making the best decisions I can make, and finding a way to give myself a sense of owning my place in this world.  Except that I may never own it, because more and more and more, I see that my place isn't something I have or ever could earn.  It's a grace. 

  
  

   

  • 2:14 pm
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