I’ve not written anything for a while as I’ve rejoined the big bad world of work. After a couple of years getting my mental health sorted and spending time with the kids, I decided it was time to get my big girl pants on and brave working again.
Little man is settled in a fantastic nursery where the level of care and the activities they have him doing are amazing. Middle is still attending the same school even though we’ve moved out of area, to provide her with some stability.
And this is where the guilt has started to seep in. If I wasn’t working I’d be able to do the drop offs in the morning in a less hurried, stressy manner. I’d be able to keep on top of the housework better. I’d see more of my kids. I’d see more of my husband. I’d have the time to make time to relax. To do the mindfulness and relaxation exercises I’ve been taught. To actually finish a craft project I started on months ago.
At first I thought I enjoyed my job. But after a number of years in the military I forgot just how bitchy civvie street can be. How lackadaisical these environments are. “It’s 5pm so stuff this task and the impact on whether I finish it or not; I’m doing one.” And this is my opinion after 2 weeks!!
Maybe it’s me. Maybe I expect too much from my colleagues. Maybe I just need to take on their attitude. But that’s not me.
I want to do the best for me and mine. That’s why I went back to work. To feel like I’m contributing. But perhaps I’m not one of those women who can work full time and bring up my family simultaneously. And maybe I’m going to have to be at peace with that scenario. To persuade myself that I’m not a quitter. That it’s ok not to do something if it isn’t working for you. If not just for my own sanity but that of my family’s.
If nothing else, to prove to Middle that you don’t have to conform to what society expects in these “modern times”. You don’t have to be super woman doing everything. As long as you and your family are happy and content, bollocks to what society thinks.