Today I need to rant. Read it, ignore it, up to you!! I’m pissed off, and I’m upset. As you know, I’m back to work, although at the moment I’m just putting my foot in the door – 2 days a week for the next couple of weeks and then back to full time. I’m dreading full time, absolutely dreading it, for so many reasons! I guess the biggest one is my fear of not coping, that depression will come back and I’ll land back in hospital again.
But there’s another equally big, if not bigger one. My kids. I never, ever wanted to work full time while they were young. My eldest is to start school in September, and I so badly want to be able to be here for him after school, to help him with his homework, to take him to swimming or football or whatever it is he decides he wants to do. I had my heart set on it, I had it all worked out in my head. And then I did the sums. I know times are tough for an awful lot of people, but right now, quite frankly, my concern is only for my own family. And it’s just not going to work out. I am so unbelievably tired of having to make decisions for purely financial reasons. But right now, and for the foreseeable future, that’s the way it’s going to have to be. That kills me. My job is just a job. It’s there to pay the bills and nothing more. But I’m having such a hard time accepting that those bloody bills are the reason that my kids have to be in full time child care. I’m also sad, for me and for them. This isn’t how I planned it. None of this is how I planned it. Depression wasn’t supposed to happen, but it did. It took the joy of their early years away from me. Financial chaos wasn’t supposed to happen, but it did, and now it’s taking my decisions out of my hands, when we’re finally getting to a place where depression mightn’t be such a big issue any more, where I might actually be able to give of more of myself to my kids, and enjoy my time with them. But it isn’t to be.
I also feel incredibly guilty that I have to work full time. I know it can be rationalised till the cows come home. We need to keep a roof over our heads. Massive financial stress could trigger another episode, and then not only will we be broke, but we’ll be dealing with depression again. Again. And my kids are fine where they are. They’re well looked after, incredibly happy and doing great. But that’s not the point. I wanted to be the one doing this for them.
I realise this all sounds very melodramatic and self pitying, I realise I should be thankful for even having a job in the first place. But right now, all I can see is that the biggest, most important decision I’ve wanted to make in a long time, is once more being decided by something outside of my control, and quite frankly, that just sucks.