Tag Archives: depression

Career, Career Change

Life update and what’s ahead for 2025

1 Comment

My youngest cousin just posted that she was promoted to VP and while I am, of course, happy for her, I can’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy mixed with some serious sadness about my own non-existent career at 41. She’s in a different field, but she’s 30 and sprinting ahead towards what I’m sure will be even more success and I’m… I’m not sure what I’m doing. I’m not even crawling in my career right now. It’s more like I’m stuck in quicksand.

Do I have a job right now? No. Managed to grow the net worth through 2024 thanks to the markets moving up and up some more, but that isn’t going to be forever. Money is important but at this point I just want to feel proud of what I’ve done and I don’t. I can’t get a job. I can’t get a good job and I can’t even get a not-so-great one. I thought maybe grad school, but then I realized that doesn’t make any sense… why throw money at my problem when I need that money to keep growing, and I’m the problem.

So… what do I do? I ended up having my disability extended for depression, which has been helpful given it softens the bleeding for a bit, but that’s ending in three months. I may be eligible for $1800 a month in unemployment for a while, but that doesn’t exactly pay the bills. Part of me wants to just wait until my daughter is one, and then, it’s basically summer and that same part wants to wait until the end of summer to get a job… the other part of me is freaking out thinking I should get something NOW.

Weird convo today with my now-aware-of-things 6 year old in the car, where I mentioned I was getting a new job in 2025, and he asked about the job I already had, which I had to inform him is no longer a job I have without saying “mom got fired.” Why am I not working there? I didn’t agree with what they wanted me to do. Well, that’s part of it. “Mom saved a lot of money in her 20s so you don’t have to worry we will be fine, I just want a new job so we can go on nicer trips and get better presents.” Sort of the truth. Sort of.

Right now I just want a career path. I want a promotion. I’ve never really had a promotion. I want to do a good job and go from IC to manager to director to VP. I’ve been “director” level for 15 years in most roles and only once had direct reports. I don’t know if I care about having a team, but I do just want to be good at what I do. Good enough that someone says “promote that woman.” Now, I know that person saying “promote that woman” will be 10+ years younger than I am and the longer it takes, the worse that will get. Not that I think younger people are not worthy of being my manager and my manager’s manager and so on… I just feel… old… and like such a massive failure.

I have been applying to jobs here and there. I’ve been through a few interview rounds, even make it to the final rounds with two companies. One, well, the hiring manager was fired about a week after I didn’t get the job. The other was weird and I’m glad I didn’t get it, I would have failed there. They were all over the place, basically asking me when I could start then… ghosting me. The hiring manager there didn’t think I’d be able to handle startup life as a mom with a young baby which… was not cool for him to say… but also, given I know what startup life is… is probably true.

Bullets dodged?

I’ve never aspired to… do anything in my career, really. It just happened. I just kept doing things. Whatever I was asked to do. Sometimes logical things. Sometimes things that made me roll my eyes or question the meaning of life. But things happened. When I had the energy. When I wasn’t 41 years old with 3 young kids, two of whom are on the spectrum, and all of whom need my attention 24/7.

I’ve felt better the last month or so because I decided to stop thinking about work entirely. Outside of a small side project I have that gives me a little needed reminder that I’m capable of working, even in small amounts. Maybe I can get a job. But what kind of job? Will it be a dead-end, will-never-ever-ever-get-promoted job? Does that even matter?

VP. I’ll never be a VP. I don’t care. I guess. I just want to do something… good… for once. I’m scared and sad and what’s new, but hey, my net worth is $3.6M, so that’s something.

Career Change, Mental Illness

Trying to learn to be a normal, functioning human being

Leave a comment

“Your net worth is $3M — how can you not be a functioning human being?”

If anyone knows what is in my bank account, especially that the majority of it is from my personal savings and investments (even though I now track net worth collectively with my husband), the response to my explaining that I’m a barely-functioning adult human is this.

But it’s the honest-to-god truth. I’ve spent my life struggling. Not in the whoa-is-me sense, but just in my reality. It’s some combination of early childhood trauma (growing up in a domestic violence household), genetics, and whatever else makes me up. I’ve lost so many jobs over the years, from my earliest firing when I left a purse out at at train station at a little jewelry and accessories kiosk I briefly attempted to work at, to my most recent axe at the startup where I was on the executive team and failed to live up to expectations (I lasted a whopping four months).

I’ve long been embarrassed by my recurrent job loss. I look in the mirror and ask myself why. Everyone gets fired or laid off on occasion, but I’ve made it a habit. If we’re being honest here, I’ll let you in on a little secret — I’ve been fired nine times. Only ONE of those was what I’d consider a lay off. The rest were due to performance.

The good news? When I get the axe one more time, I’ll have a nifty clean ebook title “How I’ve been fired 10 times in 2 decades and have saved $3M.” Or something more punchy than that. I do like clean numbers.

No one understand how I’ve done this (outside of my husband’s $500k or so contribution to that). I don’t either. How — somehow — through luck, tenacity, fear, masochism, or some other force, I’ve managed to pick myself up again and again and push forward in the most positive and lucrative way possible. Loose a $190k job for being too socially awkward and unproductive to be an executive? Three months later, get another job that pays $250k a year through another contact that liked my from a prior position.

I kept jumping from one thing to the next. For the last 20 years, give or take. And every morning I’d wake up not knowing WHAT to do. My best days were the days I was working on a project where the task was clear and I could use creativity and my superpower of listening to a whole bunch of mildly sociopathic people who think THEY ARE RIGHT at all times and make them ALL happy (thanks childhood trauma and ability to walk delicately on eggshells!) This is not to say those sociopath-lites were untalented or wrong (some of the time), but…

I’m worn down and burnt out by trying so hard to make everyone else happy. It seems I can’t do it anymore. The asks may be impossible, or I may just be incapable, or both. I’m tired. I’m depressed. If it weren’t for my adorable sweet little kiddos, and certainly if I hadn’t somehow built this substantial cushion to see me through the dark times, I might be more serious about making an escape plan from this life.

But that doesn’t change that I’m 40 and don’t know what to do. I finally agreed to take antidepressants and am finagling doses with my psychiatrist to see if anything will help (but can’t take ADHD meds since I’m nursing). I’ve tried ADHD meds before and they just made me a bit manic, but I’ve never worked with someone to adjust and monitor until maybe I could fake myself out for being a real life functioning human being TM.

Every single path I consider is terrifying to me…

Stay the course — somehow get a job in what I’ve been doing and just do better next time. I’ve applied to 150 jobs in what I’ve been doing and haven’t had any luck. The market sucks at the moment so it’s not just me not getting work, but every job post I read makes me die a little inside… just knowing even if someone out there buys that I can do the job, the reality is I can’t. I don’t think that way. I don’t know if there are any classes that can teach me to be good in the career.

It feels like I have to start over anyway… so if I’m starting over, why not do something new…

But then I go down the path of what a mess it will be to invest in myself for any new careers. What if I spend $10k, $50k, or more, and I’m back where I started? That seems like a waste. Is it better to just try to live as frugally as possible (which I’m also bad at but getting better at — it’s just my $7k mortgage makes it impossible to cut down enough to cover our COL even without summer camp and vacations and dinners out) and get a low-paid routine job? The answer to that is no — as I’m pretty horrible at low-paid routine jobs. I do better in roles that require strategic thought, that keep me on my toes, that give me a little dopamine rush on a project that needs to get done and will have some sort of stage to show for it.

I also like helping people. I’m scared to put myself in a position where I am responsible for another person, and I don’t actually see how I can help others, but I do find my greatest satisfaction comes from actually helping other people — shockingly, since I’m a narcissist of some sort probably.

So — I don’t know what to do. The other options:

MBA > TBD: I’d focus on quant and finance, an area I have -0% experience in. I was in advanced math in 10th grade and then in 11th grade they kicked me out and I had to take the “easy 9th grade math” to graduate high school since I couldn’t focus enough to mange through FST. I bought a bunch of calculus books on a whim a few years ago. They are sitting in my garage.

CFP: I like the IDEA of being a CFP. I like helping people with their money. But I don’t like the idea that being a CFP is really being a sales person. I couldn’t work for a company that sold anything I didn’t believe in. And I don’t have it in me to build a business that requires contacting people, making them clients and keeping them happy. I’m also interested in helping people make and manage budgets, but not sure there’s much money in that.

UX/HCI: designing user experiences is interesting to me. This one is a recurring theme. However, I’m so far behind in learning this area and don’t have the technical or research skills for a job like this. I could go back to school but the market is flooded with bootcamp grads and to get a grad degree from any reputable institution requires a solid portfolio. It will take years to even get there. Feels impossible. And I’m not sure I’d be any good at it.

UX content strategiest: an interesting option with no clear path to obtainment. All the UX content strategy roles I’ve seen require experience and a portfolio in this. Which I do not have. So, next…

Therapist: if helping people is my goal, this could be a good career change. But who am I to help others when I’m this much of a mess? I can’t exactly miss appointments with my clients. What if I say something and they get mad at me? I’m bad in tense situations.

Coder: per my other post, this could be interesting. I really want to feel like I have a skillset that is valuable where I can actually DO something because I know how to do it and deliver quality work that — works. Not work in a field where success is subjective. But I’m scared of this path for so many reasons. Per the above, my quant abilities are what abilities would be if they were divided by 0. I like patterns and solving problems, but am I smart enough to do this?

Or… I don’t know. I don’t want to be a stay at home mom forever. I’m enjoying it now and wouldn’t mind it for the next few years. I just need to figure out something I can do and do well. Something where I can wake up in the morning and not dread the day. Is that possible? Am I hopeless? I don’t know. I know I’m not doing well. I haven’t been for a long time.  I need hope. A change. A dream. Something.

Other

CoastFI: How do I make $150k a year doing what I love?

2 Comments

(I should probably start by saying I have no idea what I love.)

At this point with my portfolio I am pretty much CoastFI which means that as long as I don’t dip into my savings/investments I should be fine to retire (and probably retire early but at the least to retire at a normal retirement age.) That’s nice to know. It gives me some relief… but not enough… because I know how quickly I’m decimating my savings without a job.

My husband makes $110k a year, but that doesn’t include any health insurance. My estimate for our monthly expenses is $15k ($7k of that being our mortgage, another $2-3k being cost of home ownership). So $5k on life outside of our house. That alone is a reason I want to move, but my husband refuses, and I’m still torn on that since it feels like owning a home in the Bay Area is probably a good financial move long term (after we’ve made $600k in value in 4 years it feels like it might be… plus we have a 2.6% loan locked in for 27 more years on another $1.2M that we owe and taxes only go up 2% a year here.) Still… it’s frustrating to be so “house poor” when we don’t have to be. I imagine a life living in a MCOL city where we have money to take trips and all that on a lot less. Sell our house, walk with $900k cash, and basically buy something outright or with a small mortgage.

That isn’t happening, though, so I need to figure out how to make money so we can Coast and not flop.

Husband’s after tax is probably around $6k a month. So I need to make up $9k a month… or about $155k to break even. If I want to take vacations that involve airplanes (and islands and hotels) with my family of 5, I’m really needing $200k income… but for now I’m just trying to hit $150-$160k.

I haven’t had a lot of luck getting interviews and I know that I might have to settle for $100-$120k for the short term… if I can even get that. It seems not the worst to do that for a year or two as long as by year 3 I can be back up to at least $150k. It feels crazy writing this as the last time I earned less than $160k was in 2015! And that’s not inflation adjusted or anything. Salaries are so low right now and it’s an employer’s market. I haven’t shared how I got fired from my last job which was paying $200k plus bonus in Feb, but it was killing me and I wasn’t a fit for it… I’m sad it didn’t work out but really I needed the time off for my mental health while pregnant with baby 3. Now I’m not sure wtf to do. Job applying is getting me no where and my self confidence is at an all time low, at least work wise.

Some days I wish I had cuter feet, you know?

Aging, Anxiety, Networth

I’m Back! And my financial life is as confusing as ever.

12 Comments

My site has been down for a while. It apparently took a quick chat with my hosting provider to fix it, but my anxiety kept me from trying that until now. I finally decided I missed writing here enough to attempt getting this fixed. I didn’t realize it would be quite so easy.

I have no idea if anyone will still find this blog. Maybe some of you have my updates in your feeds and will see this pop up. If so — hi!

I don’t have time to write my entire life update tonight, but here’s a quick summary…

  • I’m now 40(!) years old (can you believe I started this blog when I was 22???)
  • I have three(!) kids. My oldest is about to turn 6, and my youngest is about to turn 2 months old.
  • Over the past 2 years I’ve lost two jobs and left one after 10 months. I was let go from my last role earlier this year while pregnant and haven’t found a position yet. Things aren’t quite dire (thank goodness for having a big cushion) but I’m pretty down about job prospects, my abilities, and what the hell I should do with the rest of my life before I retire.
  • Life is fucking expensive. Someone kick me for moving to the most expensive place to live in the country 20 years ago and not leaving.
  • It isn’t all a shit show… the house I bought in 2020 (for more than we could really afford) is worth about $600k more today. We could sell our house and walk with $900k+ in cash, which would set us up for a pretty good life most anywhere else.
  • Our total net worth right now is hovering around $3.3M (I stopped tracking separate because that’s a pain to figure out, but a lot of that is from my income and investments). We still owe $1.2M-ish on the house (ouch) with a $7k a month mortgage (double ouch), but things aren’t dire… yet.
  • Did I mention our net worth is $3.3M? This isn’t a humble brag… this is still me waking up every day thinking how da fuc did we get here (from $28k in 2007 plus the few thousand my husband had saved then).
  • Most of that is tied up in investments, the aforementioned home equity, et al, so the no job thing is still a mega issue.
  • We are bleeding cash right now. Our outflow is about $13k-$20k a month, depending on how sad I am and how much I am buying on Amazon on any given day. Or how much our house is breaking. Aiming to keep spending down but with a $7k mortgage an 3 kids there is only so much we can do…
  • I’m looking for a job. Contemplating a major career pivot but everything feels terrifying. I don’t trust myself to invest in myself even now. I’ve managed to bounce from one thing to the next where I let other people tell me what they think I’m good at… but I’ve never actually figured out what I’m… actually… good at. And my career history is a sad smorgasbord of fuck ups with the occasional project that cemented my next role or next next role as people forgot I’m not actually qualified for much.
  • I want to be qualified for… something. So I’m on maternity leave, luckily getting some pay through state disability, and thinking hard on what’s next. I’m also working with a psychiatrist to try to fix this brain of mine once and for all, but limited w/ what meds I can take because I’m nursing so it’s rough. I need to survive the next 22 months and then I’ll be done nursing and can take whatever. Drug me up.

Anyway, I’m back. Hello. If you see this feel free to drop a comment. Would love to know if anyone is still out there. Let me know if you have any questions on the above!

ADHD, Adulting, Career

Never Gonna Get Laid Off, Never Gonna Turn Around and Desert You…

10 Comments

Weellllllllllllp. Layoffs have hit my sector bigly and I’ve had an axe hanging over my head by a thread for a long while now with my boss salivating at the chance to slice the string. I know, though I don’t know, but I know, and everyone at the company knows, because it’s pretty obvious when such things are going down, that I have a job for mayyyybe two to three more weeks. Then — (f)unemployment? Ugh, if only I could take a chill pill and lean into the “fun” part of that, you know?

Here’s the deal… I never was a fit for this job, or any job I’ve had. I’ve gotten by on producing shiny objects — tricking people into thinking I can actually do a job. I’m not a one-trick pony, mind you — I have a whole host of magic up my sleeves. Problem is, I got short arms, and I run out of tricks soon enough. Then everyone realizes I’m a total fraud.

Oh, before you start throwing “imposter syndrome” at me let me tell you that I am convinced most everyone is a fraud, their brains are just not trying to solve every single problem in the universe at once so they can slow down and focus on whatever it is they are doing at the moment and get it done and move on to the next thing. My anxious-as-fuck brain freezes up all while jolting around seeing ALL OF THE POSSIBILITY. And then, when I’m working on creative projects — which is most of my work — I don’t know how to give useful feedback as I nit pick to sculpt the project until I’m happy with it. I don’t actually know what the end result is until I see it, and that’s not the way one can work in the corp world. Everything is all frameworks this and Simon Sinek that. Yea, I came up with a blog business idea earlier that while on unemployment this winter I’m going to read every single “top” business book that my colleagues quote to quote-zoo to sound smart and I’m going to summarize them for people like me who have no attention span and create quizzes so we can all remember the important bits to sound like we know our shit.

After I get through my little project, I’ll be seeing stars and going to interviews quoting all of the visionary visionaries, nodding along as yet another CEO references yet another book that everyone in business obviously has read, duh, even though I haven’t, oops. Even if my name isn’t as alliterative or sepia-toned colorful as as 

I’m glad I’m getting let go. Really. Not really. Kind of. I should have left this job a long time ago. Let me say I am glad I didn’t. I’m so fucking lucky. Soooooo lucky. The amount of income I made the last two years is abso-fucking-lootely ridiculous. It’s unlikely I’ll ever see that kind of AGI on my annual tax return again, ever. Unless this blog blows up bigly and I get a book contract that goes top 10 NY Times bestseller list and my face magically appears in all of the airport bookstands next to all those other books someone must buy waiting for their flight because why else would they put them there?

So if you haven’t noticed I’m flipping out a wee little lot bit and terrified of what happens next. I’ve managed to land a series of interviews for a series of companies and they’ve all gone nowhere. I fucking HATE feeling like I have to fake it in interviews to get a job — both because I don’t like faking anything (TMI never faked it, that it, thank you much, yes I know you were wondering and wonderers cannot be left hanging in these parts) and also because that is just a recipe for disaster if I get hired under some pretense and then have to actually do the job. I just want to be able to be myself (well at least 80% of myself, I can leave  20% of myself  in the  NFT car in the virtual parking lot) and get hired for who I am and what I bring to the table. Ah, such wishful thinking. Who would hire that? Who would hire ME? I wouldn’t. That’s a problem.

I’ve got a whole host of ideas on what to do next. Because I need a job. One that pays well. I haven’t made less than $165k in over 7 years. And I’m looking at jobs that pay $100k-$125k. And I can’t even get those. I’m considering a year or two of a low-paid job to build up some specialist experience but still I have to get the job and do a good job at it and that all leads me to that I need an MBA and to get an MBA I need to learn math and take the GMAT and I’m going to be 40 in a year and it’s too late for all of this, I’m just fucked beyond fucked. I do figure that there are certain things I can improve — skills I can learn — and other things that are harder to get better at. Creativity seems hard to optimize. I can beg borrow and steal ideas but I’m never going to be some sort of creative genius. I can, however, perhaps, learn data science. So I’m shifting to trying to find a path that’s learnable. Real. Hard. Skills. Ones that pay well, ideally. Or I just start this business book blog and start interviewing business people and make a podcast and make myself a person that people quote. Yea, my dream job is being paid $250k to speak at a conference for an hour. Who’s hiring?

,

ADHD, Mental Illness

Career Revamp: How to Accept Lost Income and Savings?

8 Comments

I am trying to make it through my job, but at this point I’m acknowledging that my career is just not a fit. I’m very (incredibly) fortunate to be in a position where I’ve been paid a lot, which has allowed me to purchase a home and superfund my children’s college savings accounts. Compared to most of the world I’m in a really good place. It doesn’t feel that way, but I constantly I have to remind myself that I’m doing pretty great.

But it’s still hard to look at the future ahead of me and think about what to do next. I could pretty easily (with the right antidepressant anyway) stay in my current role and continue to earn $200k-$300k per year. If I knew 100% there was something else out there that would be a better fit I would be willing to give that up for lower compensation, but the reality is I don’t actually have any idea if another job would be any better. I could leave this role, take a position for $80k, have to dip into savings for years, and still be completely unhappy — maybe more so.

There are things about my career that aren’t a good fit for me. Some of these things are part of any job but maybe lesser so in another field. Having to influence people is really challenging for me. I am not a good communicator. I’m not great at being organized, but also I’m worse at it when I have a job that requires so much context switching and doesn’t have clear measures of success or completion. I worry that a job with clear measures of success and completion would bore me–when I’m bored I don’t do good work either.

I’m really seeking a career where I can be in “flow” more often than not. Maybe that’s unrealistic. I know I like working on projects where I’m collaborating with a team and building something and being part of that trajectory to create something from nothing and then get it out to the world. I think this is pretty consistent in the few moments in my career and life when I’ve felt in the right place. But this concept is not a career. This concept does not pay the mortgage.

I wish I could just figure out a way to do this job and not feel so horrible about it. But when it comes to creative work I find I’m either all in and doing really good work or I can’t engage at all. I can’t half engage. I can’t just get it done and not care and spend the rest of my day doing other things. It haunts me from the moment I wake up in the morning to the instant I fall asleep, and often even finds it way into my dreams and/or nightmares.

Really all I want is to feel good at something and like I’m actually contributing value. I don’t think I am now. Often I’m told that I must be or else I would’t be paid what I’m paid. Well, someone at the top believes in me despite my being a total mess, but not to the point where he cares to help my career make any sense. My job is to get random things done that are high-stress projects with no clear definition of success other than a bunch of people decide they are ok and then they are done.

The work I have is not impossible time-wise. It’s just impossible in the sense that I cannot do it. Or, I do manage to do it, at the last minute, after a whole lot of stress. Maybe that’s why I get paid so much. Because no one else really wants to do the jobs I do.

I’m just tired. Tired of not knowing what my career is. Tired of feeling like everything could fall out from under me at any moment. I realize I’ll never be perfect at my job, but I would love to have a real career where I start at a lower level and have regular promotions every few years because I’ve actually done a good job. Is it possible for me to do a consistently good job at anything? If I could do ANYTHING what would that be?

I think fundamentally I need to revisit if I’m really a creative person. I’m constantly pushed into creative type roles but I don’t think I’m creative at all. In fact, maybe I’m at the point in my life where I prefer to be quantitative in my work. Not that I know how to be, but maybe that’s an area to explore. I just can’t imagine myself in a job interview where I can hold my own where I’m asked questions about data. I process too slowly. No one would hire me.

And I like to do things my own way, which isn’t how the world works. People want you to know what you’re doing and follow the established path with minor deviations.

Part of me wants a job where I interact with people more. Again, going back to the drawing board — being some kind of counselor… or even a nutritionist? But then I realize that I’m just not mentally well enough to have a job that requires being stable enough to see clients regularly. So that crosses off a lot of jobs out there. I don’t know. Maybe my current job is the best job I’ll ever have. It pays well. It’s not that hard, it’s more like managing a puzzle that constantly has new pieces showing up and you just have to figure out how to put it all together well enough that people don’t realize you’re missing pieces and then you move on to the next puzzle. Nothing ever feels done or good. And that makes me feel sick.

I’m trying hard to start building a life outside of work. To at least focus on my health with exercise and eating well. If my entire career is going to go to shit then the least I can do is make sure I’m as healthy as I can be physically. I have to try to believe that there is an answer out there for me somewhere. I need to find it and I need to drive the change. I need to start believing in myself. I’m embarrassed of how I present myself to people. I’m going to be 40 soon. I need to get my shit together.  On so many levels. I should go to the psychiatrist and get meds and I will soon. I’m not sure how that really helps but maybe it does. I’m willing to try anything right now. To help me stop being this–whoever it is that I am. I need to grow up, grow a pair, and just get on with it. Life isn’t waiting for me and I’m too impatient to wait for it.

Career, Career Change

Struggling and Scared. What’s New?

2 Comments

I have 70 days until I will feel good about leaving my current job. But that still leaves the big question – what job should I go to next?

Reading job postings is the most depressing thing ever. I don’t have any skills that would land me a new job. And the jobs I’m qualified for, well, they aren’t even clear fits, and they would pay A LOT less. My only hope for making the same income is to take a VP level role, which is possible since I think I can probably convince some company no one wants to work at to hire me to run a department… I’ve done it before… but that means I actually can’t suck at this time. And while I think I’d be better than I was in my early 30s, I don’t see myself really being able to do the job well.

I keep having this sinking feeling that I’m stuck. That isn’t worst case, of course. That means I continue to do a good enough job where I don’t get fired. For however long I need to do that. I’m just not getting any more relevant experience for leaving and the longer I stay the more stuck I become. Until I get so depressed that I can’t function and end up losing my job anyway.

But I feel like I need to dig into something meaningful as my next step. I’m scared because part of me likes not giving a shit about my job beyond just doing a good enough job. If I am doing something that actually betters the world then I will be extra angry at myself when I slip up. It feels good to not care, I guess, but then I can’t motivate myself to do good work, so I think I need to care overall.

I wonder if I took some time off would I have the energy to get back to things. But I’m still convinced I don’t have the ability to learn enough skills to be employable in any job that a sane person would want to have. My number one skill is managing to make crazy sociopaths happy by doing what they want even though I disagree with it entirely. It’s not the best life though, at least for the past few years, it has paid well. But this year it’s leaning into being asked to do things that I’m not ethically ok with plus I don’t believe in and I just hate it all.

I’m curious what I’ll get for my bonus and raise (if any) this year. If I don’t get a raise again that’s going to hurt because inflation is bonkers. But I’m, well, not putting any money on a potential raise. I know even 5% is going to be pretty standard this year and anything below that is just a kick in the face and a clear sign to GTFO. But where do I go? I really don’t know. I’m just so worn down. I’m taking it week by week. 10 weeks left. Just 10 weeks. I can at least get through the 10 weeks right?

Adulting, Mental Illness

It Would Be Nice

Leave a comment

The squirrels are the only creatures who seem to love the palm tree in my front yard, for my husband, myself, and my neighbors certainly don’t. To hire someone to clean the palm tree costs about $2000 and to remove it the same, so we’ve been pondering removing it for a good year but can’t make up our minds. There isn’t much mind being made up in this house about much of anything. It’s a problem. My only mind making happens in periods of mania where rash decisions are anything but wise and seem made without any manner of forecasting the future discomfort they will inflict. Thus, decisions either get made and regretted, or not made at all. I’m still unclear which is worse.

But the palm tree needs to go. I think.

There are so many weddings this year. Well, two. My cousin’s which is just a short flight away but an expense of perhaps $3000 after taking grandma to watch the kids and booking a hotel room that can fit all of us, which isn’t easy to find. Waiting to book the hotel room means prices go up which means I spend even more. Then there’s my sister’s wedding, which she is rushing to get done this year supposedly, though no date has been set yet. Her and her finance are off on a whirlwind adventure of seeking out wedding venues just like my husband and I did six years ago.

Six years ago was an entirely different time. Almost so ancient it merits its own series like Bridgerton although that isn’t actually based in any real time so this particular comparison doesn’t work and yet it feels like it does — because was that life six years ago any more real than the world created by Julia Quinn — because what was life actually six years ago? Was it real?

My father still alive, a bit of denial through the entire family about the situation at hand and falling for his lies about the fiscal health of his and my mother’s bank account. Six years ago before two children who are very much humans now. Six years ago before the worst manic period of my life where thank god I managed to only let words not actions inflict the innocent, even though I ruined a few of the things in life that were actually good because that’s what I do apparently — self sabotage so the things and friendships that actually are wonderful are poisoned by this mental health catastrophe that goes into hibernation in my brain and comes out every once in a blue moon and turns me into this over confident person I most certainly am not. So there’s that. And I live in fear of that person coming back though I tell myself I’m older now and wiser and I can control that part of me if she surfaces again and I’m too tired now anyway to have that kind of energy where even if I thought I might be charismatic I’d surely prefer to dream the reaction to that charisma over act upon it. It’s interesting, though, how certain I am that I’m bipolar and yet not being able to convince any practitioner of this because I’m too ashamed to explain exactly who I’ve become in the past or maybe I try but no one believes me when I seem like just a depressed person trying to exaggerate the past. Or maybe I don’t even believe it because I force myself to forget out of sheer embarrasment and regret that spins like a spiked pit in my stomach whenever I’m jolted back to a time when I wasn’t really me albeit I was still me, I wasn’t like, schizophrenic, I was just — some other me who was sad to the point of wanting to crater in but that isn’t even it. Just craving some kind of connection, I guess, in this delusion that maybe such connection might exist somewhere, but then in falling back to earth realizing no no no in fact there’s nothing to connect to and you are best lost on an island and not having this notion that someone will one day find you there and rescue you from yourself. Because that doesn’t actually happen. And that’s ok. What’s not ok is when you start getting confused about what’s real or what isn’t. When your mind plays tricks on itself. It’s scary and upsetting. So you want to keep yourself stable now. It’s all that matters.

Six years later, you have a house, you have two kids, you have managed to hold down a job for four years and see your bank account grow with stock that you don’t deserve but you got nonetheless. And you’re six years older which shows in the few strands of grays in your hair and the paleness of your skin and the aches in your joints which you realize are just beginning. You’ve experienced the beginning of a global pandemic, like everyone else, and the era of covid, which may not go away anytime soon. You have PTSD from it like everyone else, but perhaps it saved you, locking you in your house and not letting you escape into the world with your impractical imagination.

But it would be nice. To just find peace with it all. This world. It isn’t much longer that I have to experience it. Who knows how long. I’d think 40 years of health if I’m lucky. Half way there. If it was climbing up a mountain I’d feel good about making it to this point but it’s not, it’s life, and there is nothing else once you get to the top. And so here I am, living a depressed but more or so practical life, and trying to decide which kitchen table to buy because I ought to make decisions faster than once every two years, so maybe I can do other things in life, other than searching Wayfair and watching the sun hoping it will go down quickly so I can just go back to sleep.

Career

The Roads You Didn’t Take

Leave a comment

There’s a part of me that still believes I have a big career in me. I could return to school for an executive MBA and find my voice and confidence to move up quickly on a high-potential path from junior executive to C-suite.

With my astute decision making leading to unprecedented revenue growth I’d no longer have to apply to jobs — jobs would apply to me. And 10 years later I’d look back at the last decade not as a smorgasbord of fake-it-till-you-make-it and no substantial work meriting pride but a full narrative around doing a whole bunch of great things. Maybe I’d be in one of those lists… despite no longer being young enough to make it into a 40 under 40. Perhaps a 50 under 50 but over 40. A 6 shy of 60. The one to watch. The one whose career is worth at least a couple of articles in respected trade publications.

Or – I quit the workforce entirely to write full time. A novel. A memoir. A TV series. A film or play or interactive art piece titled “pretentious” because it obviously is.  I create a storyline and cast and direct and edit something that goes on the internet and goes viral. Because everyone goes viral these days so why not me? I do something unique enough to capture some audience that wants more.

Or… I hand in my resignation and live off savings, moving to some town no one has heard of to live a life that won’t ever be heard of either. As a mom. Driving my kids to practices and classes and field trips. Volunteering at the school because there’s so much free time and I ought to use it doing something useful. 10 years of that.

Or none of these, more likely, just a schmuck doing some job half-ass not because I want to but because that’s all I’m genuinely capable of. Working for sociopathic leaders who at best are fake kind when you serve their visions well and at worst make you feel like shit until you land in a mental institution or die, whichever comes first.

There are so many roads and yet most of them seem so far away. Their starting point is a huge death defying leap across a chasm of diamond-tipped spikes just waiting to gut me alive. So I stay safely on the other side despite this wall behind me speeding up from a distance, clearly ready to nudge me off the ledge with no more space for a respectable momentum-building leap. So I wait until I fall violently to the end or I run and jump and try to make it across with my legs swirling at full speed in the air, like some long jumper who actually knows what the hell she’s doing — or perhaps not as gracefully but somehow I make it across, ready to take on the other side.

I don’t know and I’ll never know which is why I seem to just be waiting to be pushed off. Most people are here with me. Who says the other side is any better?

Career, Depression, Mental Illness, Parenting & Motherhood

Can’t Sleep When Things Are Going Well and Caving In

Leave a comment

$2.5M. I guess that is our current net worth, give or take, if you don’t count taxes or fees on sale of our house. I usually do but tonight I felt like giving myself a little fiscal pep talk so I threw together another spreadsheet (when I should be sleeping) which has us over the $2.5M mark. Even though that’s not real because if we sold our home and sold all our stock holdings taxes would make that a lot less. 

Still, the fact that in some not completely bullshit calculation we are at $2.5M is a significant milestone.

My husband and I picked one of those impossible net worth numbers we have/had to hit in order to consider a third child. $2.5M! That’s not going to happen, right?

Well… depends who is counting. But tonight, I’m counting it.

I’m not going to have a baby tomorrow. But given the savings goals been hit for each child ($500k, $1M, and $2.5M… if baby 3 is a possibility we’re at least at goal.) So that’s nice. None of the money feels real. And I know because I’m still rather heavy in tech stocks I’m going to regret that and it will come crashing down. I’m probably 30% in higher-risk stuff but I’m bored and antsy and FOMOing my life away so here I am holding way too. much FAANG and laughing about it until I’m crying about it. Oh well. When the game is squarely rigged against us — go big or go home? Or, stop taking risks because I’m almost old now? Probably that.

Money is a funny thing. $2.5M is a lot of money. No argument there. Yet I’m perusing the tuition rates for these fancy private schools for gifted kids and my jaw is dropping to the floor smack bang and flipping right back up into a cartoon spiral in reading that school for one kid for ONE year costs $35k or even $50k+. I mean. I don’t care how gifted your kid is. If your kids is that gifted give your kid $35k and have them build a business. Or a spaceship. Or a TikTok empire. I mean, if you are making $1M a year consistently forever then maybe $35k is a drop in the bucket but my bucket, rich as it may be, is snapping its lid on any thought of sending my son(s) to any sort of fancy private school.

I do wonder with my son… I have no idea if he’s gifted or just advanced or even how being also autistic and behind in some areas will make him who he is over the long run. I’m worried for him. Mostly in what happens when he starts to realize he doesn’t fit into the world around him. Right now he doesn’t care. At all. But I think as he matures he’ll realize that he’s different. I certainly know that feeling. My husband blossomed as the alien he is with a small group of smart-as-fuck weirdo friends. Well, maybe blossomed is the wrong word… but he survived and seemed to have fun along the way. I didn’t fare quite as well in my childhood and especially adolescent and early adult years.

And I wonder how much of what we’re capable of is based on the environment we’re put in and what we’re told we’re capable of and how we’re treated when we fail. It’s fucking strange to me to think some kids are shipped off to “gifted” programs where they walk around thinking they’re better than everyone else just because they can recognize patterns and a holographic memory (not a thing I made it up but I’ve decided it’s a thing.) I had some equally fucked up concept of my own intellect as a child based on my father’s commentary of both my smarts and my failure to live up to potential because I was clearly lazy and not trying hard enough when no no no I just couldn’t think straight and the anxiety took over very young when from an early age I felt like I was a misfit and was sad about bothering everyone while also longing so desperately to fit in and connect… but who was there to connect with? It’s not exactly all that different now.

So my son is clearly different and I want to support him while also letting him figure things out on his own. I always thought I’d be the mom who cheers my son on when he takes risks and fails but already I feel like I’m failing him on the failure support despite trying. He is already so anxious, so aware, so thoughtful in a mind that doesn’t yet understand the world or what is really going on. But he’s starting to. And I can tell as the world starts to make sense it becomes more and more scary. After a solid block of sleeping alone in his room in his bed he has been venturing out to sleep in our bed. And it’s sweet to cuddle and all but I can tell that his mind is spinning and processing all of it.

I haven’t told him my father is dead and he doesn’t know what death is yet but he certainly understands that my dad is missing out there somewhere. I don’t know what he thinks of him in his head. I worry for when my husband and my living parent’s pass away. I didn’t have to deal with grandparent death as a child except my mom’s father died when I was 8 and I guess he was always old and distant and it didn’t phase me much though I was a little sad at the thought of not knowing him well. And my great grandmother who was so old in her wheelchair through my young years – I don’t remember her dying but I remember her at some point being gone…

But because we are older parents and the ages are getting further and further apart between birth and the next birth there’s more death early on and it’s just something that is but it’s so terrible to have to experience it and to have to experience it with young kids. How on earth will I ever explain to my son when his best friend, who happens to be 78, no longer will be available to play with him ever again? My husband will be distraught and likely forever disabled emotionally by the loss of either of his parents. There are plenty of books on the subject but that doesn’t make it any easier.

And then there’s my own mortality. How did I get here? Well, covid. And my fear of getting a booster shot after the first 2 Pfizer shots seriously messed me up. I don’t know what was worse — how bad the shots messed with my body or how little doctors believed me (or how the doctors who did believe me said there was nothing they could do!) You start wondering if you’re crazy and just stuck in a placebo effect anti-panacea. Maybe your eye didn’t go blind and come back with dark floaters. Maybe you didn’t have the most intense headache like a monster clenching on your scalp and squeezing you to a pulp then stabbing you with ice picks for weeks. Maybe your hear didn’t shake like a motor and turn on and off when you were lying still at night. Maybe you haven’t had a series of experiences where your left arm and lip goes numb and you feel as if you’re possibly dying or stroking out or something.

But then you know all of that is real and you’re terrified of getting a booster shot when your body seems to be finally almost back to normal. The floaters have almost faded. You can go outside in sunlight and not cry because of your vision.

At the same time you know if you don’t get a shot you very well might die. You’re not being a hypochondriac or overdramatic. It’s just fact. You’re overweight now and that’s super high risk plus your depression is also a risk factor and you’re the blood type that seems to get hid hardest and now you’re over six months out from your last shot. Covid is an assassin out there looking for you and you can run by you can’t hide. So. I should get the shot. But then…  I don’t know. Months of feeling horrible again. Will I recover faster this time, or slower? What if I lose my vision entirely? Unlikely, but after my experience I don’t know what to think is possible anymore. And I’m so not an anti-vaxxer. I got my flu shot and I get it every year. I’ve had every shot in the book. But this really took me out. I’m scared. Of getting the shot and not getting the shot.

Meanwhile… life is being life. There’s been sickness in my house recently, a whole lot of it, but not covid. While my 3 year old seems invincible and has never had a fever (he was coughing a bit this week) my almost 1 year old was taken out by a fever up to 103.7. Poor kiddo. He’s still getting better. Slowly. And I’m trying to do my job that I’m so behind on. I managed to fight a billion fires today (a number of my own ADHD making) and I think there’s a chance I’ve caught up if I really put my head down and push through the next 3 months with tight project management kung fu fighting pow pow pow exhibitions.

But then…

My house is a mess.

My 3 year old son who is reading and memorizing the periodic table and yelling bloody murder at me if I count out of order ever and grabbing his ears should any unpleasant sound roll in or by needs support and therapies and doctors appointments and playdates and experiences and for me to be there and I’m not, I’m not there enough because even when I’m not working I’m so fucking tired or I am working because I can’t focus during the day and well it’s 2:30 now and hey I’m awake writing writing all the thoughts in my head then maybe I can sleep I guess possibly I don’ know. I want to be there for him. I want to sign him up for a thing or two but everything is expensive and yea I “have the money” but do I? I don’t know. If only I could be one of those people who just knew I’d always have a job — outside of mass layoffs — who had skills that were just employable like being a programmer or something but no I’m not that my skillset is pretty much straight up bullshit and while it’s not my first rodeo I’m still being thrown into a pit of mud and spiked in front of a crowd feigning concern. So.

And my younger son. What a personality. What a personality who needs attention and care and love and support. He is so focused and driven and will NOT GIVE UP if he puts his mind to something. I admire that in him though it makes it hard to hide anything from him because he remembers where you put it and he keeps trying to get it. We’re going to be in big trouble when he learns how to climb… he’s already starting to figure it out. I can’t believe he’s already almost 18 months (well , in 7 months) which is the beginning of when covid started with my first son and when I had the time to retreat from the world and go for walks with him that were first him sleeping while I pushed and later on more social walks for us as he counted all the numbers on the houses and shouted out letters as we walked by at 2.5.

Life goes really fucking fast. I mean they tell you it does. But you don’t know what that means until you’re in the thick of it. Here I am. Wading in quicksand and staring dewy-eyed at the sun, blinking to bat off the razor-blades of time.

And my mother needs to sell her house, hoarder house, but that’s another story. Or is it. Well it’s all my story. But who cares. I went out there and tried to help and apparently made more of a mess so she can’t handle it and she’s spending a fortune getting it cleaned up even though I got rid of so much she’s probably still saving money in the end. I can’t believe my mother is 68. Even though we have a bit of a jagged relationship I still don’t know how I can be in this world without her. Many of my friends wonder why I still talk to her. But I see her somewhat as my child as well. Not that I’m the best mother to her either. Mother to my mother. But I love her like a child, not like a mother, if that makes any sense. And if/when she dies it will likely feel like losing a child, and I’m worried about that pain, I’m worried I can’t handle more loss despite knowing loss is a gift of life because it means I’ve managed to keep on living. I’m scared of it all. I wish I could go back to the days when I knew nothing about the inevitable. I look at my sons and envy them and pity them. They can’t be kept in the dark forever. Especially with how fucked up the world is. Speaking of dark, things can get dark even faster. So much horrible things out there. I want to hide them from all of it. But they also need to know. I feel guilty for having kids sometimes. Even though grateful. Like what did I bring these innocent creatures into? Maybe they can do great things but — that’s if they survive it all. And then they still die in the end so that makes me feel pretty sick to be honest. Even if in the best case I’ll be long gone when that happens and they’ll have lived long lives and maybe had children of their own I still feel nauseous thinking about it. So I ought to stop because going down that rabbit hole is never a pretty one.

Anyway. It’s 2:39 and I need to sleep. I was probably going to write more things like about my new virtual therapist who is 83 who told me he can tell I’m highly intelligent and that I ought to be a professor and a columnist he named some columnist I reminded him of and I was supposed to know the reference but I didn’t because I don’t know much of anything but I’ll take the compliment with me to my grave or at least my mattress for now.