I have to admit I am afraid to write this. I’m afraid of being judged, and I’m also afraid of sounding ungrateful and snobbish. But maybe it will help to know these thoughts are not just my own inner turmoil, after all. They are fact, at least in my mind. One of the reasons I have decided to finally write this down is because I KNOW I am not the only person out there who has felt this way. I can artificially connect with other people who have felt ashamed and pathetic, too! (Read the sarcasm there 😉 ).
I’ll temper this with a short introduction. I’m someone who usually manages to look at the bright side of things. I have a home, a caring husband, and a life that is fairly cozy. I am not writing this from a position that I realize many people are in, where a job is not a luxury but a necessity. I know that I have the luxury of being supported by my husband, and budgeting to live within our means. I also know that I loathe that reliance.
You see, I’ve had to move around a lot due to my husband’s job. This started right after I got out of college, when his career would had to take first place. I thought I was okay with that, and I was determined to make it work. I am ashamed to admit that it feels like my goals have dissipated the longer I have been in this situation. First I blamed it on the economy…and then I blamed myself. Now, I have been trying to figure out ways to make it so I once again have goals worthy of voicing. You see, I don’t want some minimum-wage food service job. I don’t want to bust my neck to eek up the $2 tip someone left me on a $40 tab, just to go home and not see my family since my shift ended late. I don’t want to have to work 50 hours a week just to clear enough money so Uncle Sam and the Department of Education get paid. Oh, wait…isn’t that what a degree is for? To help you succeed in the world, they said. To give you a leg up, they said.
I call bull. I have that lovely BA and it has not helped me other than heaping a steaming pile of student loans into my debt-t0-income ratio. I have managed to take 4 years of education and extra-curriculars and turn them into a desire to be 17 again, just so I could not go to school and have this debt. I feel guilty for putting my parents in this situation. Even though I don’t want to, I feel guilty for every time we “splurge” and go to the movies, or when I want to do something superficial like get hair extensions because I opted for the $12 hair cut instead of the salon visit.
I guess I didn’t learn my lesson well enough, because here I am, thinking maybe I’ll go back to school. What would I major in? What for? Oh, that’s right, let’s get those student loans in deferment with a full-time course load! In the meantime, let’s also plop a whole bunch debt on top of that pile of loans. There is one perk: the catch-22! You can now get internships for credit for extra work experience, and know that it is totally okay to be unemployed. Occupation: full-time student!
Here’s what I keep hearing when I interview. “You’re not a match,” or “we’re looking for different qualifications,” or “you present yourself well but we are seeking a candidate with more experience.” What ever happened to entry-level? No, that’s not good enough. I resent every application I send in, wishing they would just speak to me instead of at me and give me a chance. I especially hate getting excited when reading a job description thinking I would be perfect for this job, only to find that I don’t have the prerequisite 1-2, or usually 3-5 years experience. I practice in front of the mirror ignoring my disappointment. I so dearly want to say, “I’m so sick of being told ‘no’ and I just want someone to give me a chance. Please, please give me the opportunity. I’m very dedicated and willing to learn!” I find ways to twist my words around so I don’t sound desperate. Then, I hang up the phone or leave the parking lot crying because I know that once again my hopes are too high. It doesn’t matter how “bright” or “talented” I am, or that I “can do anything I set my mind to”. If I’m never given the opportunity, then I’m failing.
Three years of failure is about as much as a woman can take. I so desperately want a job that will allow me to have a modicum of self-respect that I have considered having kids just so I can say I’m a stay-at-home-mom instead of a housewife. I am a housewife, and I hate it.
You know what they say…you can’t see the forest for the trees. Maybe I’ll come out of this, look back at it and laugh. Tomorrow is another day.
PS. Please be kind if you choose to comment and remember I am a human being.
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