Next month will mark my nine year anniversary of not being “in the workplace.”
With the arrival of my first child, I realized I couldn’t go back to the same job which required me to be out of the house for a twelve hour period – on a good day. And while I worked with some exceptionally wonderful and supremely talented people, I also worked alongside some more devolved members of our species. As my maternity leave began to wind down I realized that the combination of time constraints and devolved humans would preclude me from leaving my child and going back to work. There was no way I could leave the most the important person in my life just to spend the bulk of my conscious day with a faction of people who were paving the way back to Pleistocene Era.
So I bid adieu to the designer purses and excruciatingly painful and excruciatingly expensive shoes that would no longer fit into my budget and grace the shelves of my closet. Boldly, albeit apprehensively, I joined the ranks of stay-at-home moms.
But as the call of retail kept growing louder I would foolishly attempt re-entry in to the work place only to realize that my attempts at gainful employment were futile. I’d do the the necessary tweaks and embellishments to an otherwise decent resume. After all, I’d worked as a television producer for many years and knew a thing or two about how to word scripts.
Trolling the job boards – which seemed to multiply exponentially every month – I would submit and submit countless incarnations of resumes hoping that one of them would catch the eye of a potential employer. I’d send out my cover letter emails, meant to convey a sample of my writing abilities, and without fail I’d get zero responses to the numerous job postings on virtually every job bank this side of the free world.
Okay not zero. But I prefer not to count the responses that offered me the opportunity to write for them in exchange for me paying them. I’m pretty sure that OSHA frowns on that sort of thing.
My time has come to face the facts that my job search has ended through no fault of my own.. Job hunting for a person who has been out of the work force for nine years is … useless. My old boss suggested I put down that I was CEO of my household accounting for the big gaping hole in my resume. And I did, adding words, like “organizing,” “orchestrating,” and, of course, “managing.” Nice in theory but no prospective employer seemed to buy it.
Now I have arrived at a harsh and inevitable realization – that it’s up to me to forge my own path. Ugh! That sounds so life coach-y and loaded with a cheesy hope and promise that I am loathe to keep.
So the first step on this journey involves my entrance into realm of the highly touted blogosphere. I am creating a job for myself(but does it count if there is no paycheck or benefits involved?). And I am more than ready commit to this…commitment.
But this commitment fills me with so much angst. And why is that? I am quite certain there is a psychological term/explanation for that and if you happen to know the name of that term I’d be very interested to learn what it is called.
There is also that nagging fear that no one will read my blog and this whole exercise will be a useless activity reminiscent of my job search. But I’m cool with that. Sort of. Well…Yikes! Here goes!