Tuesday, February 14, 2017

I'm Not Dead!

One Year, Six Months, and Nineteen Days.
81 Weeks and Two Days.
569 Days.
13,656 hours (give or take).

Regardless of how you break it down, I have been absent from my blog for a REALLY long time.

I didn't plan it.

I don't have an excuse, but I do have an explanation.

After I completed the requirements for my doctorate I was in a funk.  Nothing felt quite right.  I felt like an overeducated, underpaid, special education teacher. I started to pursue my endorsement in school administration.  Then I quit.

Then I realized I couldn't apply for any of the jobs I was interested in without an endorsement in school administration. So I took the rest of the classes. I continued my learning - reading, writing papers - the exhaustion continued.

It wasn't until I contacted the graduate librarian at my university about an unrelated question that I realized what was wrong with me. Postdoc Depression.  I doubt that you'll find that in the DSM-V, but for me it has been very real.  I achieved something that I have wanted since I was about 10 years old. I should be happy. Proud.  And I am, but (you knew there would be a but) what do I do now?

I celebrate this...
At my Hooding Ceremony with my younger brother and sister. (Yep, I'm the oldest!)
And I remember the important things...

My AMAZING Family!
Yes, I am a Doctor of Education. But the most important titles I hold are Wife and Mommy.  I can't forget that.  Being a woman is tough business.  It hasn't even been 100 years since we have been given the right to vote.  Women with families have only entered the workforce during my lifetime.  There are no instructions.  There are no rules.  We have to make it up as we go along.

So right now, I am working everyday to be the best mom, special education teacher, and wife that I can be.  Sometimes  Often, my role as wife takes a back seat to my other roles, and that is not something I am proud of.  But it's true.  

I often think of my now 95 year old grandmother and the choices she had at my age.  By this point she had six children who ranged in age from (around) 20 years old to an infant.  My grandfather had a good job as an accountant, but what options did grandma have?  I'm not sure daycare centers were even available in the early 1960s.  I try and remember that I am doing things many women have not done before.  There are no instructions, no hard and fast guidelines on how to "have it all."  

I have what I want.  

And this, for now, is enough.

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