Sold an Education I May Never Need

Everyone has been hit by the bad economy in some manner over the past few years.  We've struggled to make ends meet losing jobs, homes and even relationships in the process.  I am not a stranger to the reach of the poor state of the economy.  I haven't had a raise in a few years, lost a home to foreclosure, and added a new member to my household to add to my financial strain.

In an effort to think ahead, to build a career that would be capable of supporting my family for years I finished my college education.  I began school back in 2005 while still working full time and caring for two children still in school also.  I studied day and night to earn my Bachelor's degree.  Upon completion in 2009 the state of the economy was poor.  I kept hearing that education is the key to a long and prosperous career.  I have my Bachelor's degree, but would it be enough to compete in this ever shrinking job market?

I was easily sold on the theory that eduction will set me apart from every other average Joe attempting to find a progressive job.  I decided investing in more eduction would be my ticket to financial freedom down the road.  Already in debt with student loans, I deferred my loans and continued my education with the current educator.  My new goal was a Master of Business Administration.

I must admit that nearly six years of college along with a full time job was tiresome.  Those last few classes were loathsome.  In time I finished my second degree and became a proud owner of an MBA.  With high GPA's and new found knowledge I was proud of my hard work.  Additionally I was certain with this new acronym attached to my name that the offers would come rolling in along with the salary to make paying off those loans a little less painful.   This has not happened.

I am currently in a position of over educated and under employed like many.  As the economy grows I wonder what my future potential may hold. Do I need to add a few certifications to my educational repertoire?  Have I only succeeded in making myself feel smarter, but in reality played a pretty bad hand of cards?

Private universities and colleges are running campaigns on national television selling prospective students on the fictitious ladder of success.  Commercials tell the story of offices moving up to the next level; success is waiting for them to finish that degree.  I played that game and invested in an education I simply can't pay back at this time.  Unfortunately the longer I wait the more my education will cost me. 

I still believe in education.  I want to keep learning something new every day for the rest of my life.  I am dedicated to continue growing in my career.  And as I sit at the top of my game in my current situation, banging my head on the perpetual glass ceiling, I wonder if I will even utilize the knowledge I gained from all the years of studying.  I fear I was sold an education that I may never need.

The Sandwich Generation

I'm nothing new.  I'm nothing ironic.  I'm just another person stuck in the middle.  I am the peanut butter and jelly between two slices of white bread.  I have my children and husband on one side of me and my mother on the other.  I'm stuck in the sandwich generation.

My kids are teenagers going through the usual teenage stuff.  I'm helping them the best I can to get them to that next phase of life - which I can only describe at this point as a semi-independent adult.  For most kids it takes a few tries and sometimes many years to achieve complete and total independence.  I guess you could say my husband and I were a special breed who were able to walk away from home early on and do it on our own without coming back time and time again.  I don't mind that my kids might still live at home into their 20s.  After all, I'm not ready for them to grow up and move out just yet anyway.

My mom has been here now four plus years.  So much has changed over that time and so much has stayed the same.  I admit to have gained some resentment for the situation, but in the end I am glad she is here, that she is safe.  Life at my house is tricky at times.  It's a delicate balance, walking a thin line trying to stay neutral in most all situations.  Even with that I feel stuck, stuck in the middle of my mom and my husband.  Both will tell me, ask me, and complain to me about the other.  I know that both try to keep most of their opinions and thoughts to themselves, but some will always sneak out.  I'm left to listen and try to understand both sides - without taking sides.  Sometimes I wonder how full I can become before I burst at the seams.

My mom is incredibly lonely since the passing of my father in 2008.  We never expect someone to pass, we are never prepared no matter what, but I think the suddenness of my fathers passing made it more difficult to comprehend.  Both my parents were alcoholics.  Mom has continued at her breakneck pace of drinking wine by the gallons.  She doesn't see her drinking as a problem so she doesn't understand what it does to those around her.  It's a sad way to live and a bad wrong way to deal with death.  It's made my position ever so difficult at times.

It's a tough position to be in.  Some days I want to come home from work and go straight to bed.  I don't want to deal with the avoidance of one person and the neediness of the other.  Instead I do what needs to be done. I'm always there to sit at the dinner table with mom even when no one else will.  I know that sometimes that is the only conversation she has all day.  And while I can't be held responsible for all of her happiness, all of her companionship, I still feel the obligation to do what I can to make life a little better for her, no matter the ramifications in my own.  I don't expect anyone else to do this, do these things I do for her.

Being both peanut butter and jelly isn't always fun.  In fact sometimes its downright unpleasant, but like everyone else stuck in the middle caring for two generations of family, I will continue on doing what I do in hopes it's making a difference in their lives.  I don't know any other way to do it.

Birthday Blues

I have to admit that I'm no longer sympathetic.  I've lost my patience.  I no longer feel empathy for a drunken cry.  The words she says, the stories she tells speaks volumes of who she is.  And even though I never knew these things about my mom all of my life, I am learning that she just isn't or wasn't who I ever thought.

My dad was a very patient man.  He loved who he loved and he stood behind them without fail.  In some aspects I am that exact same person.  I've stood behind her all these years woefully unaware of the feelings that swirled around her.  The hurt that she caused.  She was never popular, she was never even well liked.  And in the absense of my father these last four years have proved that matter of factly.

It's my mom's birthday today.  She is 69 years old.  My father lived 71 years.  She is bitter that he is gone.  She is sad that he is gone. I have those same feelings, but for different reasons.  I miss my dad terribly.  I miss that I can't listen to his long stories over and over again; I miss that I can't call him when I have a question about a home repairs anymore.  I miss hearing him call me Kat.  And I'm angry I am left here to deal with the misery my mother has become. 

She says tonight that my dad let his family down.  He didn't take care of himself and died.  He was 71 years old and he had cancer, a lot of cancer.  He wasn't outwardly sick for years, he didn't complain of pain.  He was still working full time barely functioning, but somehow keeping it a secret to everyone.  He was diagnosed with cancer on or around the first couple days of August and he died August 11th.  He didn't complain, he didn't cry, he just quickly slipped away.

I remember one day in the hospital after we found out he was really that sick and it was just the two of us in the room.  I cuddled up next to my dad on his bed.  He held onto my wrist tightly as I put around his chest.  I cried just then, laying next to him knowing what was next to come. 

My family was never particularly affectionate.  We didn't hug and kiss too much while I was growing up.  It felt and still feels awkward to hug my mom.  It's just not there, not in me.  But that day it felt right.  I needed my dad to know I loved him.  He told he should have taken better care of himself.  But my dad took care of himself as best he knew how.   And even if he made mistakes, he drank too much, he smoked too much he still took care of his family best he could and never expected a handout.

Hearing my mom say that tonight was hurtful.  I know she is upset that dad isn't here for another birthday.  The alcohol doesn't help the mood either.  Alcohol played a part in killing my father and it will surely play a role in eventual end of my mothers life.  I guess she can't or won't see that connection.  The fact that she is following the same path. 

I can't get past this wall I have put up.  I can't let myself feel bad for her anymore.  Maybe I am being selfish myself.  Alcoholism makes life kinda tough.

Will I ever be thin enough?

Trapped by a society who thinks thin is the only 'in', I have lived on a roller coaster of weight.  I grew up in a household with a mother who was on a perpetual diet.  Both she and my father maintained slender, if not underweight, bodies.  Even as they aged the notion that they must be thin remained.  When my father passed away almost four years ago I would bet he didn't weigh much more than 90lbs.  He had probably been sick for years, contributing to his frail body, but only admitting and succombing to his illness right at the end of his life.  A few days before my father passed away he said to me 'I should have taken better care of myself'.  Besides the alcohol abuse and the 50+ years of smoking, my father never over indulged in food, he probably never ate an adequate amount of food either.

The fear of becoming overweight prevented both my parents from a healthy lifestyle.  Alcohol and cigarettes became the main staple of their lives.  Many times it was their food.  My mother continues on with that premise giving her an aged beyond her years look and an unhealthy body.  She is oblivious to reality.

I've always tried to keep myself thin.   My average dress size was somewhere between a 4 and 6.  If I crossed over to that hated size 8 I would exercise and starve myself back to where I felt I should be.  That routine has been difficult to maintain as I have aged my life responsibilities have changed.  I'm no longer that skinny size 4 and I don't believe I will ever be again.  I've tried to come to terms with my size 10 pants, but it's difficult in a world of skinny pressures.  I can't say that I will ever be happy at this size, but my will to be that thin has faded.

My mother's continuous commentary on the size of everyone makes me wonder how I ever escaped a life of anexoria.  Her comments on myself and my daughter, while thought to be either meaningless or complimentary, awkwardly turn out to be hurtful.  I can easily stand up for my own child, but I can't seem to find the words to tell her how it hurts me.  I wonder at times how long will I be able to tolerate listening to her on-going tale of being a size 0 before I burst at the seams.

My son's girlfriend confided in me about her families issues with anexoria and the impact it has had on her and her life.  I can't imagine how she must really feel inside.  Conquering your issues with weight is diffiuclt enough, but to add in family who choose to live with anexoria as a lifestyle and continually push it on others must be unbareable.  I hope that she is able to overcome her issues with food and live a happy, healthy life.  It takes a strong mind and heart to stop listening to how others think you should live and live your own life.

I had to make that choice in my life to be who I am no matter what anyone else thinks.  I was a late bloomer in life.  I really didn't grow up until my late 20s.  My shy personality kept me from so many wonderful things in life.  My first hurdle was to become independent and confident.  With both of those traits I learned to love myself for who I am.  I learned to not question myself and be brave.  I don't have to be the thinnest girl in the room anymore.  I can be whoever I want to be and if people don't like me for who I am, no matter what my size, then they are not worth knowing. 

Will I ever be thin enough?  Probably not, but I will be happy with what I am anyway.

Why do high heels have to hurt so much?

Like most women I love shoes.  I have a closet full of high heels for every type of occassion imaginable.  I've been wearing high heels for about eight years now with an average of five days a week.  That's a lot of pressure on my feet.

Before I became a slave to my desk I was an aerobics instructor.  My footwear consisted of sneakers or sandals.  I put a lot of wear on my feet during those years.  I taught many high impact classes and as a result I had a stress fracture in my foot.  But even that didn't stop me from teaching.  I learned to hop around on one foot or land just right so I didn't feel pain.  I'm quite certain the doctor would not have agreed with the abuse I gave that foot, but it's hard to stop someone dedicated to fitness.

As that part of my life phased out and I transitioned into office work I found a penchant for high heels.  Following true to my mother, I have developed bad feet.  Bunions and blisters have been my primary enemy.  And while the pain is quite bad at times I still can't break the habit of wearing heels. 

High heels make me feel thin.  There I said it.  Since I no longer spend hours upon hours exercising I have developed what I call chair butt.  I'm certain the combination of a slower metobolism that comes with age, a more sedentary lifestyle and the unfortunate need for drugs to control my heart I don't have that rail thin body anymore.  I am very aware that wearing a pair of heels doesn't change the size of my back side anymore than it would change the number on the scale.  They just make me feel better about myself.

My mom's feet are awful.  Her bunions are huge and her toes are permanently bent and overlapping.  I don't want those feet when I get older.  I realize exactly that is potentially on the horizon for me if I don't make a change. 

I would estimate my feet hurt about 75% of the time now.  It doesn't matter if I am barefoot, wearing sandals  or heels the pain is non stop.  I consider having surgery to take care of the bunion issue which is likely the cause of most of the pain, but mentally I'm not prepared to give up my heels. 

Life is a balancing act

It's been a little over a week since the teenager moved in and it's been more of a challenge than I imaged.  He isn't our first house guest as such.  A few summers ago one of my daughters friends stayed with us for nearly a month.  It wasn't because she wasn't able to go home, but her home was a small two bedroom duplex that housed two adults and four children.  She was just looking for a place to stretch out for a bit and our home fit her need at the moment.  She didn't expect anything from us and was never a problem to have around.  She was happy to have a family around such as mine.

This young man staying with us comes from a difficult home and a lot of baggage.  He needs help getting himself on the right track to adulthood, but I'm unsure if we are the right people to help him get there.  Some of the issue is basic distrust.  We haven't known him long enough to feel really comfortable with him in our home.  Maybe something we should have considered before we agreed to the situation.  Hindsight is always 20/20.  I have tried to encourage him to look for a part time work and scolded him when he skipped school.  Rules are present wherever you go, something he fails to grasp.  I've treated him like one of my own this past week hoping he will feel at home. 

Life is a difficult balancing act.  There doesn't seem to be any directions to take you from point A to point B.  Some days I wish I knew exactly what to expect and where life was headed, because then I would be prepared for each step ahead. I would brace myself for the impact of uncertain events with prepared reactions and emotions or be ready to celebrate in the event of unexpected triumph.

I envy people who say their lives are in balance. People who live an existence without the rolling turmoil of an unbalanced life.  But does that truly exist anyway?  So many life with a false facade surrounding their beings.

In our daily balancing act, what we can predict is how we will react to the situations that arise in our lives.  In this journey I call life I hope to share who I am and what I have, but I can only stretch so far.  Life is not predictable, it's not going to be easy no matter which path you take.  And sometimes doing what you feel is the right thing isn't always the best thing. 

Teaching your children altruism

I grew up in a household that was giving.  We lived in a medium sized college town.  The local school is small and private, but was directly across the street from my childhood home.  Over the years college aged kids would come through our house as frequent dinner guests.  My parents acted as their surrogate parents while they finished growing up in the 80s.  And even though we were quite poor my parents always made it a point to share what we had.

As an adult I have tried to instill that lesson within my own children.  I am happy to say that they are the most generous, caring and giving children I have ever met. This brings me back to my last blog, Who will love your children?  My son's friend moved into our home last night.  He brought with him very little simply because he has very little.  After learning that my son had been buying him dinner almost every night after school and even took it upon himself to buy the kid shoes when he needed it I was beaming with pride.  He didn't do these things for the recognition, he didn't even tell me until yesterday; he did it because he saw someone struggling, someone in need. 

In the past he has come home from school and asked if he could give another kid a pair of his black dress pants.  After all, he as a couple pairs and the kid had none to wear for an upcoming band concert.  A teacher once told us that he is such a nice kid that she believed he would literally give another child the shirt off his back.  My son just cares about others.

My only concern with my son's generosity is being taken advantage of.  If I think back to my parents, my father in particular, he did what was necessary to make others happy.  He worked in a family business and when it was time to sell the business and move on, he gave all of his proceeds/earnings to his parents for their retirement.  While this left us in bad situation, he felt that was his duty, his obligation. 

I have opened my home to my mother since my father's passing in 2008.  She doesn't pay rent, utilities, phone, cable.  She isn't asked to do anything.  I somehow feel this is my duty, my obligation following closely in my fathers footsteps.  Here in lies my personal battle.  Am I being taken advantage of?  I have spoke about my trials and tribulations with my situation and I often times wonder if my generosity and how I have taught my children to follow is going to lead them down the same path.

My son asked me yesterday if I think it would be ok for him to buy his friend a laptop.  He has been working full time for a couple of months now and earns a decent salary for a teen.   I told him that I think everything he has done is great and I am proud of how he is stepping up to help someone in need, but also that he has to draw the line somewhere.  He can't be this kids mother, he can't do it all for him.  This kid has to grow up a little too, he has to become responsible for himself.  Those perks aren't something that he should be buying for him.  And while my son understands this I know that he will continue to give to this kid and I worry he will over do it. 

My children see me giving everyday by trying to keep the peace at home.  I attempt to always sit with mom for dinner even if it means skipping a night out with friends or hurrying through work obligations. I try to make it a point to take her places on the weekends and I feel I've gone the extra mile to make her feel at home.  But in reality, my  mother, while in her late 60s, is perfectly capable of caring for herself, supporting herself.  She is fully able to work a part time job for a few extra bucks to pay for her own cell phone or just to have something to do.  Instead, just as my father, she has left all financial burdens and social interactions on me and my family and expecting for the same care she received from my father. 

Have I made a mistake by showing my children what altruism means?  Have I rendered them to a position where they sometimes will forget about themselves too often?  I want my children to give, I want them to recognize that they are fortunate for what they have, but I don't want them to suffer in the end and give up too much.