The Reluctant Housewife

When I close my eyes and try to look back on my life, I'm ashamed to see nothing.

I used to be a prolific journal writer in my youth, religiously writing my thoughts down on paper. But the box of my belongings - relics from my childhood - lost its battle against termites. Not having a tendency to collect things, what few items I had were gone. I was upset - but as with everything else in my life, I forced myself to stop thinking about it. Crying over spilled milk doesn't do anybody any good. It's no use struggling against the inevitable. Especially something I had no control over.

For the past decade, I've been a trailing spouse. Pulled by forces of circumstance to go where my husband's career has taken us. For the most part, it has been a wild ride and an enjoyable journey. Barring the frustrations which come with relocation and adjustment to a new culture, I wouldn't trade my life for anything.

But now that I've turned 40, I'm filled with dissatisfaction.

Supporting someone in their own path to success reinforces the realization that I have none of my own.

I've peppered my life with experiences that I thought would complement it. I always tried my best to see each opportunity as learning experiences - whether they were voluntary ones (meaning, unpaid) or not. Yet, I have no accolades and no colleagues to show for it.

In the back of my mind, I still know that my children come first. They are my priority, and having them has given my life a whole new meaning.

But I also understand that to fill their cups, I need to have my own filled first - to the brim. Otherwise, I'd have nothing to give them. I'd be shaking an empty pitcher. And no matter how hard I do that, nothing will come out.

Looking back, I feel like my life is a never-ending side quest. I'm able to find fulfillment in these little journeys that don't add up to a straight line.

Conducting Hartbeeps workshops, writing for agencies, editing 80k books in a few days, working with a team fulltime, organizing events, hosting, volunteering... Managing social media accounts, writing stories, crocheting... meeting new people... chatting with strangers...

A hodgepodge of learning and experience that don't amount to much when you see it on paper.

But my regrets are not because I did any of them. Nor are they because I'm helping someone chase their dreams instead of my own.

No. the regret is not enjoying them when they were there.

I could have made so much more of what I had.

I'd have savored the food more, explored more, indulged myself more.

I would have sat at the beach and listened to the waves, ridden rides with no fear of tomorrow, basked in the noise of my family... gone out more, met more people, made more friends....

But I didn't.

I may have gone through many side quests, but I didn't take the time to enjoy them. I should have been more purposeful, more intense. I should have dived headfirst instead of swimming in the shallows.

My side quests aren't done. I still have many more stages before I meet the Final Boss, but I also feel like I've lost sight of the main goal, too. I've broken one of the main rules of gaming. Go on side quests but don't forget your primary objective.

In the past, I always looked forward. I took my today for granted. And now that tomorrow is here, I can't help but look back. Maybe it's why I'm stumbling so much today. I've taken a meandering path to get to where I am.

Today is the first day of school for my kids. We woke up to brisk weather, more like fall than summer. As I woke them up and they sunk deeper into their beds, I worried they’d be late, or worse, not want to leave at all! A couple of days ago, my younger two both started expressing fears, misgivings and anxieties about today - all part and parcel of meeting new teachers and classmates, and getting to know a new classroom culture and routine. Today loomed on them like a thundercloud. I knew getting through the first day was the only way for these jitters to resolve themselves, but saying so wouldn’t assuage their fears, and may, in fact, do the opposite. All I could tell them was - their fears were valid, but that going to school was a responsibility and an obligation. This change was coming, whether we all wanted it or not, so they needed to have courage and be confident. Their teachers would be firm but kind, and if they needed anything, all they had to do was speak up and comfort would be given. I pointed out that they were much better off this year than last. They knew people now. They were no longer new. They could make new friends or solidify old ones, but there was less pressure to find someone who could relieve the isolation. I told them they had options. Reminding them to take each thing that happens slowly and to look at the positives, I realized I needed to do the same. The challenges of job hunting in this market required resilience and confidence. Every rejection was not the end. Conviction and courage toward new opportunities were necessary to succeed. Along with it, the persistence and perseverance needed to surmount fear and achieve goals. Today is only the beginning for my children just as it is for me. Great expectations arise with every new year and adventure. With new beginnings come a vulnerability toward the unknown but also a hope for renewal. As I cuddled them hard before sending them off this morning, I wished we would all have the courage needed to be open to possibilities - new friends, new challenges and new opportunities. Lessons abound with every experience we encounter - be they at school or at work. And all of these will inevitably transform us… if we let them.

You know what I want?

For job hunting to be easier.

I don't mean to have less competition.

I mean, for it to be legit.

Headhunters probably need AI now to shift through all the applications they get in a day. I understand. But it makes it so much harder for job seekers.

For me, I feel like everything is stacked against me from the day I first started applying.

Since I'm new to the system, my resume is likely not the best. Resume builders charge hundreds of dollars to "fix" my resume. But with no guarantee of a job, where do they expect me to find the money to shell out for their service?

There are loads of career websites around. But none of them seem to pan out at all. Of the hundreds of applications I've sent, perhaps 50 (and that's being generous) respond with a "We will not be moving forward with your application), 2 respond for next steps, and a hundred more say nothing at all.

I am tired.

It's a relentless, soul-sucking grind that bears no reward.

Honestly, it's depressing. My rationale is telling me perhaps it's time to pivot and find something else to do. I'm getting a lot of emails for insurance agents, and maybe that's something? I honestly don't know. I can't do sales, but perhaps this is the time to give it a go.

I hate not having money, not contributing to the household, not being able to buy something for the kids.

I hate relying on my husband's income. Knowing his past health issues, it's difficult to rely on a single earner for a family with 3 kids.

I used to think the US was the land of opportunity.

It sure as hell isn't that any longer.

You need to study in the United States to be able to secure a job. Your work experience or study qualifications from overseas aren't valid here. Is it how they've rigged the system? Study here and then you up your chances?

What if you have no money and you need to earn so you can actually pay for any further schooling? Well, you can get money from the government - a LOAN. So you start off your professional life with a negative balance.

I used to think LinkedIn was somewhat legit. I stayed off it as long as I could because - argh, another social media site to keep track of? But, I relented in the end. I needed to "network" - at least get my name out there. Fat lot of good it's doing.

Some websites have other companies advertising jobs. I've signed up for so many job alerts, it's jamming up my inbox. Some of them have such bad algorithms, I keep getting matched with nursing jobs when I have zero credentials to be a nurse.

Some of them advertise jobs that are no longer accepting applicants. Others require a master's degree for entry level jobs. Still others say "any other responsibilities asked of you." Everyone knows the latter is a red flag.

None of the jobs that come up give anyone opportunities. The culture wants a new grad to have 20 years' experience off the bat. To have networked and received 20 contacts by the time you graduate.

The most I've ever introduced myself to a stranger is talking to the Uber driver.

I am exhausted.

I am tired of people expressing their opinions of my "potential."

I don't need opinions. I need a job.

I know what I'm capable of.

I once read a post on how beautifully our lives are intertwined. That we are tapestries of what we've learned and loved, and in turn, we pass those on to people whose lives we touch.

One of my many regrets is not getting to know my grandparents better. I knew them only as loving and benevolent figures who gave me indulgent smiles, cooked for me, and enforced their own set of rules. They provided fun, food and frivolity in the summer times and only for a few hours each weekend during the school year.

I scarcely remember my two grandfathers. They died when I was young - and they exist now only through the stories that are rarely shared by my aunts, uncles or cousins. Most involve how strict they both were - how they grew up obeying for fear of some punishment being doled out. Punishments that people would frown upon now, but which was acceptable back in the day.

It's amazing to think that we're all the sum of what came before - of the trials and errors in parenting that existed among generations. Each of us learn from what we've known, and each breaks or continues the cycle depending on how we saw it.

Many of us make dishes that have been passed on through generations, while others have artifacts and belongings that have withstood time - a wedding dress, a family ring, and other heirlooms.

Many of us aren't so lucky. Our times with our departed loved ones have been ephemeral and quick. The thought of having bits of them live on in me is consoling and heartwarming.

Yet, it always makes me feel better to realize that there's always a choice as well. People who have grown up in abusive households or had bad childhoods can also cut those ties that bind and set off on their own paths.

I applied to this copywriting position on LinkedIn. It seemed to come from a reputable company.

To be honest with you, I've applied to so many jobs - their requirements have all blurred together. And when I get a rejection, I need to search for what in heck I had even applied to. Usually, those rejection emails don't even mention it. They just say they've found a better candidate and that's it.

The other day, I received an email claiming to be someone from one of the jobs I'd applied for. There were no red flags in the email. The grammar was correct, the tone professional. The email did not ask me for financial information.

I responded and expressed my interest.

The person sent me a questionnaire to answer as part of the hiring process. But when I sent the responses back, the email got returned saying, "the domain... has not been found."

Was I the victim of yet another scam?

I am so tired of this.

Why do people do this? Why do they play on people's dreams and sincere efforts to better themselves? I am so annoyed, appalled and frustrated.

Job searching shouldn't be this hard! Most of the job sites don't even offer legitimate jobs. They just use it as a way to gain your information. Then they end up bombarding your emails with potential job matches that are so far from your qualifications - it's like Pluto and the sun! To illustrate, I've received job matches for nursing jobs. The most nursing I've done is apply disinfectant and put on a Band-aid for crying out loud!

I've even encountered entry level jobs that require a master's degree! What does it mean when even with doctorates need a side hustle to get by?

I'm determined to not let this get to me, though there are days that are definitely harder than others.

I am physically exhausted and mentally drained.

And I'm not getting any younger. Experience has to account for something, right? Right?

My dad died when I was 9, which means he's been dead for more than half my life.

I was the oldest daughter - and I was a Daddy's girl. I went with him to his tennis matches, to his office, to his construction sites (he was a civil engineer). I even went with him to watch a cock fight - I don't know if my mom knows about that, even now.

I have an older brother. But he's always been more of an introvert. A true creative, he prefers to sit inside the house and draw rather than run around outside and play sports. I was the more athletic one - I hadn't minded getting dirty, getting a tan, and moving around.

One summer, my dad enrolled me in tennis classes. I enjoyed it - up to a point. I was much younger than the rest of my classmates and they used to make me run after the ball when it flies outside of the cage. I quit. But I never explained why, and we never spoke about it. 'Til the day he died, I think my father just thought I'd chosen piano over tennis - when that was never the case.

My dad indulged me when he can. Just with simple things, like giving me the coins that fell out of his pocket, buying me candy, letting me sleep in their bed when my overactive imagination creates monsters in my head when I look at the ceiling...

A few days before he died, he flew off on a business trip. He told me to be good and to help my mom.

Those were the last words he spoke to me.

A typhoon had rocked our city and phone lines were still down, so we had no idea he had been planning to return on a different plane. That he was rushing to get home to be with us since it was almost Christmas. And that he had agreed to fly with the relief goods for our city on a military plane no less.

Since the plane crashed beside a mountain, it took a while to retrieve his body. It took a while to make sense of the body parts that had strewn across the crash site and identify which was which.

He had a closed casket, as you can imagine.

My mom chose to see him the way he was found in the funeral home though. I'd have wanted to do so as well - maybe if I had been older, they'd have let me. Yet, in a way, it was better I didn't.

My dad was larger than life. He had a beer belly that shook each time he laughed, and he had a voice that reached the rafters. I remember him constantly joking that was only his whisper.

I don't remember his voice. I've forgotten what he sounded like.

I haven't seen videos of him, nor heard his voice since his death...

You'd think being that sound helps you remember things, it would be the last memory to go. But it's usually one of the first.

Sometimes, I imagine my brother sounds like him. Who knows? He might have.

As my memories of his voice fades, I console myself with the thought that I can fill it with what I think he sounded like.

People always say it's different when you lose a mom at a young age compared to losing a dad. That may be so. But one pain shouldn't weigh more than the other.

Losing a parent young will always have consequences.

Losing my dad felt like losing my protector. Someone who'd have shielded me from pain... From reality. Sometimes, I imagine what life would have been like if he had lived. Would he have used his booming voice to intimidate my suitors? Would he have regaled our wedding guests with jokes and weakened them with laughter?

We always tell someone grieving that they "at least have their memories." But what do you do when even the memories have started to fade? What then?