The Journey Home
It has been a long road getting here – “here” being in my home, full-time. I’ve worked for someone else since I was 15, and I’ve never really cared too much for authority. As my friends would say, “I do what I want,” and I do! The time just felt right to be “here,” even though the times I find myself in are less than ideal. But, a challenge has never stopped me before…
Four years ago I was celebrating seven years at a job that I loved (and was really good at), with co-workers that I loved and several bosses that I actually liked. Unfortunately, when you work for Corporate America you have to follow certain rules and keep certain parts of who you are private, or you will get fired. So, I got fired, two days after my seven year anniversary. It hurt. Like, a lot. And, it started an amazing downward spiral in my life with everything happening really fast.
Two months after losing my job and struggling to find a new one, our home had a leak in the crawl space, before I knew it my husband, step-son, our pets and I were living with my in-laws. It was nice to be with family and not in a hotel, but oh my, my does a Type A control freak like myself have a hard time living under anyone else’s roof. I knew it was temporary and it wasn’t half bad, I was unemployed and they have a pool in the backyard – “Alright,” I thought, “I’ll re-center, re-focus and get a tan.”
Then, we found out we were pregnant, we’d been trying for 18 months, but the timing was so hard. We decided that I should not go back to work full time until after our daughter was born, I was considered “at-risk,” because of my age. Moseley Rose was born on February 27, 2019, happy and healthy and I am obsessed with her.
I digress…It was too much for my husband, who was working to support our family, dealing with the insurance company, rebuilding our home and being a father to his son. He started struggling with depression and anxiety, he tried very hard to hide just how low he really was, I did finally figure it out, but maybe a little to late.
After our daughter was born, I suffered from PPD/PPA, it hit me out of nowhere. As I struggled to be a new mom, my husband’s battle with depression had become a full blown addiction to alcohol. He attempted suicide when our daughter was five months old, he spent the next six months unemployed, living in hotels or rehabs all while I was a single mom trying to pay the bills.
I did it. I got a job that I hated, but with a great group of people and ultimately, I paid the bills. Until COVID, when they cut a majority of our department. Ugh.
It has been one thing after the other, but that’s life. My tribe around me has been an amazing support system, my family loves me intensely and I never actually felt like a single mom. These experiences have only made me stronger, more resilient and more compassionate about how easy it is to fall, how hard it can be to rise, but how much fun the journey can be.
A Working Home is the result of the last four years, everything that has happened, everyone that I have encountered, and learning that I am capable of making the best out of life’s challenges. It will give me the chance to finally be my own boss and show my daughter that anything is possible with love, faith and endurance.
