Random Thoughts

Should I go back to school?  I just got a Facebook message from a new friend saying she is going back to school.  I have been saying I am going to start taking the classes to get my TESOL certification.  This requires 18 credit hrs of graduate level coursework.  But I have not started the process.  I was excited, but at the moment I have diverted my attention back towards growing my business.  When I stop and think that the sole responsibility of supporting myself will fall on my shoulders in a few short months I am at a bit of a loss.  I have never done this.  Just turning 48 less than a month ago, I went from being supported by my parents to co-habitating with my former spouse.  I have never lived alone.   I have never been the only one to support myself.  I did work full-time until we had our first son.  So we both contributed equally for several years, but he always made more than I did.   A big part of me does not want that responsibility.  Part of me can’t believe at this age that it has never happened.  A large part of my focus was on raising my children and being a family.  That is where my energy went.  Now I think.  How does one (me) even go about such a task?   How many hrs do I want to contribute to earning money?  How much money do I need?  What kind of lifestyle do I want?  I am not interested in just following the rat race prototype.  I don’t even know how much money I earn now.  But I know it is not enough to survive on.  I have money in the bank but eventually it will all be depleted if I keep using it as my sole (or almost sole) source of income.  I am not motivated by money.  I need to get back to looking at my relationship with money as I had been doing for awhile.  Maybe that can be a topic my Jungian counselor and I discuss.  Am I following in my mother’s footsteps in that regard?  When she worked outside of the home, she was a very hard worker.  She never indicated that she was worried about money.  I never knew anything about how much money came into the house.  I did know things like, it was important to reuse tea bags, and baggies, to save money.  I remember the ceiling cracking and the grey duct tape that covered the crack and how I always worried that the mice I heard scurrying in the old farm house ceiling would fall through.  I knew the houses we lived in when she was not married were owned by my grandpa.  And we lived there for free.  My mom and I were not close.  I remember her telling me I would have to wash my own underwear out if I started my period.  That is all that was said about the topic of this thing that really scared me, bleeding.  I remember her old ugly boyfriend and how they slept together downstairs in her bedroom.  How they both smoked.  How one night as I camped out on the living room floor, the room just outside of her bedroom she confided in me late at night that she might be pregnant.  As a middle-schooler I was bothered by this idea.  Especially considering the man she shared her bed with.  Nothing more was ever said about it.  No baby ever materialized.  I remember the guys she dated after the proposed baby daddy.  One was quirky and interesting, tall and eccentric, and appeared to be rich.  I can almost remember his name.  The other one, nice, mainstream, middle-class, not like us.  There was talk of marriage.  He gave her an engagement ring.  Then we never saw him again.  Nothing was said.  No questions were asked.  I just remained vaguely curious for awhile then went on with my life.  We moved around a lot, 17 times.  I never questioned that either.  Just packed my belongings one more time.  There is actually only one time I remember anything to do with packing.  It was unpacking I believe, when I was five, at a different old farm house.  This one had a big dusty grey propane tank outside and a Charlotte’s Web spider hanging outside my bedroom window, which terrified me.  The propane tank I loved.  I would sit atop it imagining it was an elephant.  I pretty much felt alone even though I had a brother and sister.  They were connected – close in age – and I was the baby of the family, wanting to tag along, being told I was too young.  So I stayed quiet played pretend, climbed trees, rode my bike, or drew pictures.

Copyright Suzanne Norton 2017

About Suzanne

I write poetry, flash fiction, quotes and personal essays. Words flow forth like a river that cannot be dammed. Writing is my soul.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s