"Maybe it's time for you to switch careers"...

A seed of interesting idea:  My boss told me that some people work part time where I work, and still receive full benefits.
That would be a less risky way to begin a venture.

Fat Ass was Moved

New:
Here's where I will post exclusively about the weight loss/health aspect of my shawshank redemption.

Hope is a good thing

maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies
-Andy

I tell you, those voices soared.

if things had gone on that way,

this place would have got the best of him.
- Red

I.
A coworker who used to be a friend was walking with me on during our lunch hour. Tears were breaking her voice as she told me that the job was killing her soul. I was dumbfounded, just amazed to hear my own thoughts coming out of someone else's mouth. We wondered about just quitting, just going after something better, something that we were meant to do. That thing is different for each of us, and I couldn't elaborate on my dream much at that time. It was only an hour lunch break, after all.

So I empathized, I promptly bought her Douglas Coupland's Generation X (she wasn't as jazzed about it as I always am. I buy this book for people from time to time). After that, we went back to surviving: breaking the monotony by exchanging Weight Watchers recipes and interesting links. Then we got into a huge fight, and now we no longer talk.

II.
At some point, I realized the effect my depression was having on my kids. When the commercial comes on -- "Who does depression hurt?" ... -- I love to shout out the answers happily - "Everyone!" -- and we all laugh, but we also secretly know that I really am that gray, greasy-haired woman with the blank stare who forgot she was stirring something at the stove.

Though I really have taken action over the last 6 years to stay afloat: started a drama team, taken alternative treatment (minocycline) for my RA, biked enough to struggle through a metric century (62 mi) bike ride, dieted, etc. -- it's not been consistent, or enough. This past year, I find I'm sinking more than floating.

I can't leave my job abruptly. I have chronic health issues. The new medicine I'm on costs thousands per month. I also have two kids to provide for. And the economy, and mortgages, and 401k's, and blah blah blah.

And so I think:
What if I take small, but intentional and consistent steps toward something new?
And so I am.

I understand you're a man

who knows how to get things.
- Andy to Red

This is my rock hammer:

I must admit I didn't think much of Andy first time I laid eyes on him;

looked like a stiff breeze would blow him over. That was my first impression of the man.
-Red


I used to be full of joy.
I laughed a lot. I was good at making the best of what was there.
I've been a single mother since my youngest was 22 months old.
We lived on 13K a year  in a 675-sq ft house, where we opened a daycare so we could all stay home together.
I trusted God implicitly. The things he provided for us were fantastic:
I have a family that loves and supports me.
I've always had jobs that allowed me to spend a lot of time with my kids: newspaper route (we did this as a family - they remember throwing newspapers out of the back of my pick up as a good time), tutoring, daycare, waitressing (usually $100 in cash for 4 hours of fun work).
The daycare was full the day i was licensed (this is unheard of, it usually takes years to build a daycare business). We had a houseful of furniture the day we moved into the rental, all generously given by my mom's friends.
My daycare ate on free Roy Rogers tables that my dad acquired from a dump, and did crafts on the watermelon table ( a cheap thrift store find, circular, whose legs I cut to 1 ft then painted the top like a slice  -- rind, pink center and black seeds).
We had so much FUN: we held the Jurassic bible club, we played in the river on summer days and walked to the snocone shack summer evenings. We had the best parties: soccer, nutcracker, mermaid, shark.

I had a blue baby jogger - I'd throw pop tarts and books in with l and c and run after daycare. As soon as they were both on 2-wheelers (this happened by the time they were 4!!), they biked while i jogged. Once, on the golf course trail at Ft. Meade, a woman who saw me pushing one of my kids up a hill on their bike, said I was 'her hero'. Maybe this is bragging to write this, but it was a powerful compliment and I can still remember how it made me feel. 
I'm really not trying to brag, I'm explaining what I was: an athlete. I completed 3 Marine Corps Marathons and a few triathlons, and played lacrosse in a Baltimore womens league. My kids came to the races and the games. I couldn't wait until we could run races together.
 I loved just being physical - I played football with the kids at church, biked with this guy Mike (who is now a Cat 3 racer!), and hiked with my kids.

I started teaching (another job I'm not qualified for that I somehow --God-- managed to land) and our family changed some, but it was still a joy-filled time. I started a running club and a lacrosse club for the students. I remember a parent paying me this huge compliment -- she said that she and her husband were talking about me, and they observed that I really love my job.
And I did. I loved teaching, my family, my friends, my church, and my life.

Then everything changed:

My ex-husband shot himself on Feb 29, 2004. We'd been separated since 95, but we were married Feb 29th of 92, and I'll never know what the coincidence means.
We hadn't seen him for a while. His interaction with the kids was minimal; he had a new wife and new kids .

Within weeks of his death, I found I couldn't move my shoulder. Then it spread to my ankles, wrists, feet, hands, and knees. Every joint was painful. I shuffled instead of walked. I can remember asking for prayer that it was Lyme's disease, but I think I knew it was RA.

My mom has Rheumatoid arthritis.I've watched her struggle, and I didn't want any part of it. It's a degenerative, debilitating autoimmune disease, and some believe the onset can be triggered by stress. My mom's onset was in 93- when she was worried because I was in the middle of an unsafe marriage. I believe my ex-husband's death triggered mine.

So I started on Prednisone, and realized that teaching was over.  I stopped working with students at church. I couldn't do ordinary tasks without a lot of difficulty. My kids, who were 11 and 10 at this time, assumed most of the household chores.
I was able to get a government job (yet another job I'm not qualified for) that enabled me to earn a lot of money, provided excellent health benefits, and involved nothing more strenuous than sitting all day at a computer.

I struggle with all the loss. All of this has profoundly affected my kids, a fact I can't even bear to think about for too long.

My RA is much more controlled now, but I have other health issues  because an autoimmune disease is systemic, which means it affects everything.  I think I have depression, based on how I feel sometimes. I have gained so much weight, from not moving and taking steroids. I often feel like apologizing to people who have to look at me, or sit with me on the bus.

My job is gray, like a bar code stamp. Middle school students make jokes and talk about pop culture and philosophy;  government workers talk about weather and the commute. (In this economy, I feel I should add that I am thankful to have a job. But this is an explanation. This movie is so exactly like my job, when I watch it, I'm laughing but I secretly feel like crying.)

So the first time you lay eyes on me, I promise that you won't think much of me.

Institutionalized

These prison walls are funny.
First you hate 'em.
Then you get used to 'em.
Enough time passes, gets so you depend on them.
That's institutionalized.

-Red