Struggles

I woke up crying this morning.

I crawled out of bed, went to the bathroom and washed my face.  I went to the living room and sat in my recliner. The same recliner that has saved my days for months now. But when I sat down, something was 'off.' I didn't feel right. I felt guilty. Sad. Ashamed.

It dawned on me. I didn't have anything to do today. Nowhere to go. Nowhere to be. No one to see. No doctor's appointments. No labs.

For the first time in my life, I was void of purpose.

I was always taught to work. No matter how hard things got in our house, we never got food stamps or welfare. If we didn't have a job, we were out looking for one. If we couldn't physically work, then we cleaned the house, cooked dinner, did the laundry. Anything to make things easier on the ones who did work.

I have been working in some fashion for most of my life, even before I was even legal to work.

My mother was a General Contractor. Yes, I said that right. She was a General Contractor and I remember going on jobs with my mom as early as 12, being her "helper."  She could do almost anything or at least tell other people how to do it. We did remodeling, painting, landscaping, roofing, plumbing, electrical, cleaning, you name it.  I would help with loading and unloading the truck. I painted walls, windows, doors and trim. I cleaned the equipment at the end of the day. I removed doors from cabinets and put switch plates back in place.

As I got older, I got more responsibility. Mom trusted me to go for supplies or lunch. I remember her letting me varnish hard wood floors. I also remember painting myself into a corner and having to crawl out the window to get out, but those floors were stunning when I was finished. laugh laugh.  I once spent the Christmas holidays shoveling gravel in a small parking lot and smoothing it out with a metal rake. My sister-in-law, Jamie and I once spent a summer roofing. Once, Mom actually tied me to a rope and dangled me from the roof so I could paint the exterior eaves of an old woman's house for her. That damned rope broke too and I went tumbling down three stories, off the wrap around porch and landed in a hedge of mature Holly bushes. Mom was yelling the whole time, "Grab onto something to break your fall."  Grrrrr..... Yeah, easier said than done.

I got my first real job when I was 16. Roses. I was a sales associate in the Infants / Layaway Departments. That job put gas in my tank, clothes on my back, food in my stomach and eased some of the burden from my family.  I paid for my own senior year, bought my own class ring, my own cap and gown.

Since then, I have had probably close to 30 different jobs. I liked working for Temporary Staffing Agencies. I liked having that freedom and working in different fields. I've worked in Medicine, Education, Sales, Real Estate, Manufacturing, Government, Retail, and of course, construction.

I've worked at ASU, MCG, Augusta Regional Airport (twice), University Hospital, Sherman and Hemstreet, Boral Bricks, Club Car (twice), and I loved my experiences.

Today, I am reduced to a recliner.

The emotional stress is taking it's toll. Not only have I been turned down by SSI, but now my husband is considering coming out of retirement and going back to work so we won't struggle quite so much. Terry has worked for more than 35 years. He's earned that retirement. I'm ashamed that I can't provide. I'm scared of the fact that I can't work. It's all I've ever known.