Sitting on the Naughty Step

The SuperNanny always picks a spot for time outs. This has been my focus for the last week. I wanted to put myself in time out, really think about life, figure out some stuff. I wish it was nicer out, nothing makes me happier than a beach town. Instead, I went to Washington DC to wander museums and think about politics, history, and all those subjects that culminated in my love of social work school. I slept a bit on the bus, I drew a bunch of stuff with words and shapes, and walked. There was something so calming – despite being a city – about being there. This morning, I woke up back in NYC in BankerBF’s bed and my calm, relaxed feelings had dissipated.

Blogging out these feelings is nerve wracking. It makes me feel sad and ashamed that I’m uncertain about social work. I’m scared that social work is an invitation to continue a negative pattern of self-destructively putting the world before myself. What are the returns on this job? From what I’ve been experiencing lately I get: anxiety, shit pay, people who have zero respect for me, and the feeling that a chimp could do my job.

There’s a part of me, the crazy bleeding heart liberal part, who wants to believe i am fighting the good fight. That what I’m doing WILL have a positive effect on someone’s future. Some day. And I’ll never know it, but I did good.

However, there is a part of me, the scared little girl with big dreams of a better life than I grew up with: of high fashion, a home in the city and a home by the beach, travel to crazy scary parts of the world, a partner who can be my equal, my intellectual match. A job which gives me flexibility, autonomy, creativity, goals I can check off, accomplishments I can see. I still am a little girl who wonders if I’ll ever be happy? Relaxed? Satisfied?

If I’m just going to have any old job, and not get great warm fuzzy feelings from it – why stay in social work? I won’t lie (though I wish I could, since he’ll see this eventually) – I saw BankerBF’s W2 and almost cried. I make 1/3 of his pretax salary (pretax myself). One third? Yes. My hours are more steady, my nights are my own. But holy hell.

I feel so under valued.

I’ll never afford that life I want like this. Is that what makes life work?

I’m in that Quarter Life crisis mode, John Mayer described it:

It might be a quarter life crisis
or just the stirring in my soul
Either way, I wonder sometimes
about the outcome
of a still verdictless life
Am I living it right?

This feeling ripples through my whole life. My work. My family. My friendships. My relationship. My location. The uncertainty creeps in and causes me to want to run. I learned a long time ago that fleeing from my feelings gets me nowhere. Confronting feelings is scary and difficult. It’s even more challenging when you let your head get full of the fluff everyone else is flinging at you. I really don’t know if I’m living it right . . . or if I need a new city, career, partner, family, or what. But at least I know, these problems will follow me everywhere so I should stop running and breathe deep.

If nothing else, I know I can take my crayons colored pencils and sketch pad and sit alone on the naughty step  for a bit of a time out.

Tags: academic experiences, growing up, honest, lessons learned, privilege, reality, self awareness, self care, selfish, selfless, sleepless, social work, White Girl Problems