Dear September

Dear September,

I’ve been keeping a secret from you.  This blog is about my adventures in housewifery - and I do love being at home - but I’ve been hiding something.  And poor September has paid the price for my preoccupation. See how sad you look in the blog archive section with your two little posts?  July and August are laughing at you like you’re Steve Rogers pre-Captain America.  I’m sorry, September: I haven’t paid attention to you because – and here’s the confession - I applied for a job at the end of August.

It wasn’t just any job.  It was the job - the one I’d been hoping for since graduation.  It combined my interests perfectly, it seemed intellectually stimulating, and it even offered some international travel opportunities.  Plus, I knew a few folks at the organization.   Feeling like a woman who found her true love a day after swearing off men, I excitedly submitted my cover letter and resume.  September started to fly by:  I got called in for a first interview, did well on my written exam, got called in for a second interview, and crossed my fingers every night in my sleep. All the while, I nervously opened my inbox and jumped whenever my phone rang. 

But there was a duality to my nervousness.  Of course, I was afraid that I wouldn’t get the job, and the over-achiever in me would be really disappointed.  Yet another, equally present fear rang between my ears – a fear that I would get the job.  Why that fear?  First of all, we’d have to move, and I’m convinced that one of the nine circles of hell involves packing tape and utility set-ups. 

More importantly, I’m hesitant to upset the status quo right now because I’m so happy with it.  Like I said in my very first blog post, I really like being at home, but that’s a characteristic I’m still struggling with.  The biggest guilt factor prodding my conscience is the temptation to have more income, which is just even more tempting than that bar of dark chocolate sitting on the kitchen counter.  Excuse me for one second...  

So going into the hiring process, I felt conflicted.  I wanted the job because it was perfect for me.  But I was also apprehensive about diving head first back into a nine-to-five desk job because I’m happier without one.  So I waited to hear back from the organization, and I finally got the phone call on Monday afternoon.

I didn’t get it.

Considering my split feelings about the job, I was pretty surprised by my reaction to the news.  I politely thanked them for considering my candidacy, hung up the phone and immediately threw my hands up over my face to hide the torrent of tears leaking from my eyes.  Unashamedly, I cried for about 30 minutes, and then I threw my unnecessary-because-it’s-overcast-sunglasses over my red puffy eyes and went over to my parents’ house to let Teddy run around their backyard.  Then I got Chipotle dinner and watched Real Housewives of Beverly Hills.  The three “B”’s of Annie’s coping: burrito bowl and Bravo.

Feelings of failure, lost efforts, and severe disappointment made my eyes swell with tears, but I’m sure that the water works would have come regardless of the hiring outcome because of the magnitude of emotional energy I had invested in this opportunity.  You see, this particular job opportunity presented me with a huge fork in the road.  And if you can’t tell by the length of this post already, I poured a lot of thought and emotion into this opportunity  because I knew the outcome’s ability to uniquely impact my life. 

Certainly, day-to-day events impact our life paths in ways we can never be aware of.  We call it serendipity.   I’m reminded of the line in The Curious Case of Benjamin Button in which Mr. Button describes all the tiny circumstances that came together to cause a car accident that uniquely impacted one of the characters:

 If only one thing had happened differently: if that shoelace hadn't broken; or that delivery truck had moved moments earlier; or that package had been wrapped and ready, because the girl hadn't broken up with her boyfriend; or that man had set his alarm and got up five minutes earlier; or that taxi driver hadn't stopped for a cup of coffee; or that woman had remembered her coat, and got into an earlier cab, Daisy and her friend would've crossed the street, and the taxi would've driven by. But life being what it is — a series of intersecting lives and incidents, out of anyone's control — that taxi did not go by, and that driver was momentarily distracted, and that taxi hit Daisy, and her leg was crushed.

But then there are times in our lives – perhaps when we decide where to go college, when we move cities to be closer to a loved one, and when we decide to have children - when we are acutely aware of the impact certain events will have on our life paths.  This particular job opportunity was one of those times for me.  Faced with my internal conflict about going back to work, I knew that the outcome of this hiring process would take me down one of two very different “roads in a yellow wood”:  Career-woman or housewife. 

It’s turned out to be the latter path, and I’m just fine with it.  I’m still disappointed, but the job-hesitant part of my mind is slowly taking over.  I’m sure part of it is self-defensiveness – I didn’t even want it anyway, but I’d rather feel okay about it than not. 

Some folks like to say that “Everything happens for a reason” as justification for the big Why’s in life.  I’m not sure that I believe that; I don’t think that my lost opportunity was pre-determined. But instead of stewing in the sticky broth of doubt and resentment that can accompany pure self-determinism, I’m actively choosing another way.  I choose to be happy with my life’s path, no matter the bends and curves within it.   

So that’s what’s been going on, September.  I hope you understand why I’ve been neglecting you.  But October has something to look forward to:  I made a bet with my parents that if I didn’t get the job, we'd go vegan for 30 days.  It all starts this Sunday at dinner.  Stay tuned!