I was on plenty of fish
the other day chatting with someone who liked my picture and thought
I was kinda cute so she'd message me to see what's going on. The
conversation cut short when she asked what I do for a living. I'm on
LTD and CPP I responded. For what she enquired. Multiple Sclerosis.
Those two words now define what and who I am. I suppose we could add
a third depression, which is the direct result of the diagnosis of
MS. It was all she needed to make a snap judgement about who I am
and decided to move on. Sure she was a nurse, she knew all about the
disease. I never got to tell her my story. But I will tell you dear
and faithful reader and hope that the next time you have to make a
snap judgement on someone you don't.
Many years ago long
before I was ever a Mom, ever sick, I took stock of my life and
realized that I really didn't want to work in the food service my
entire life. There is nothing wrong with that service, I just felt
my life was destined for more. I was newly married and had purchased
my first home. I had found the real estate agent, lawyer, mortgage
broker and done all the leg work. All my husband had to do was show
up, which he did. Same story with the wedding. So, at the ripe old
age of 21 I got laid off from my job and decided to change my life
for the better. I jumped through the hoops with the government and
they paid for my General Arts and Science Certificate. The grades I
received from that certificate allowed me to apply for a program with
40 seats available and 450 applicants who passed the initial tests.
I went through test after test and came in ahead of most of my peers
and was offered a seat in the Human Services Counsellor program. We
were supposed to be the best of the best. Honestly I looked around
the classroom and thought some days dear me why weren't you cut? My
parents helped out financially by paying for half of my courses, the
other part I paid for. I worked hard often times bringing my books
to my job in case I had a spare moment to read. Sometime I had two
jobs just to make ends meet. I pulled my weight and more. I also
had to care for my husband who was absolutely incapable of cleaning
the house, doing laundry or any of the other billion things it takes
to own a home. I made the presidents honour roll and the deans list.
My assignments were always done early and done well and I sat at the
front of the class fearing I'd miss something of critical importance
if I didn't. I also didn't want to sit in the back with the people
who's parents paid for their education or had gotten student loans
and had spent the money on drinking at the pub. After all I had to
work after class to pay for my house and my education. I made it
through college and started working in my field early, often
volunteering at other places because I liked to help the community
and because it was job experience. My favourite was the 6 am food
truck I volunteered at in the dead of winter looking for homeless
under bridges and in parks just to keep them alive. I worked, and
even though I was in college and getting an education I went to
endless seminars on how to do my job better, I took self defence
courses as mandatory in such a “dangerous” field. (I wasn't
getting shot at, but a lot of my clients were armed and very very
high on “stuff”), I took courses on drugs and crisis
intervention, suicide prevention and just about anything else I
could. This was my chosen field and when I went to work in the
morning it didn't feel like work at all. I opted to work in the
field instead of remaining in school as I could get credit just for
working and get my diploma. Things were going along well until I got
pregnant. I had been laid off from both of my jobs in the field and
had to work 3 jobs to make up the mat hours so I could take maternity
leave with my baby. I got sick. Very sick. But I didn't give up.
I learned to walk again, and how to change a baby with one hand. The
hours of physiotherapy were nothing compared to the hours I spent
alone in my hospital room trying to make my body do what it was
supposed to. I received my diploma while I was sick, unable to make
my own graduation because they weren't sure that the stage was wheel
chair accessible, and I didn't have the strength to attend to hear my
name called, but I have my shiny honours sticker on my diploma. My
daughter was born and I poured all my strength into caring for her.
When she was 5 months old I went back to work, as my husband didn't
earn enough to provide for our family. He opted instead to purchase
beer. I was recruited by an agency that worked with my mat leave and
gave me another shot in the field in which I loved so much and had
worked so hard for. When the agency closed up because of lack of
funds I was devastated. I chose to abandon my field that I had put
so much effort into and worked at a local call centre. I traded the
exciting fulfilling career I had for the monotonous day to day phone
service worker job. Why? Because I wanted to have a decent job for
my child. A job with security and benefits. The owner of the
company sold it to an overseas company who instantly put a cap on our
pay. When the other workers complained I told them to be grateful
for a good job with sick pay and benefits, bonuses and security.
When they took away our sick pay and bonuses I said be glad for a
secure job with benefits. They took away the job security and
started cleaning house of the dead weight employee's. I was a good
employee and didn't wory. I left my alcoholic husband and was in the
middle of a bitter and ugly divorce. We had two houses and vehicles
and I didn't care about any of it, I just wanted my daughter to be
safe, after all that's who I was working for. Then there came a day
when we received a letter at work that no longer would they offer the
extended medical and dental benefits that I was working for. They
capped out at 5000 dollars which was a lot to someone who wasn't
sick. On top of working, managing my home and being a single parent
I was taking a nasty drug called interferon. It was 30000 dollars a
year. I had been reduced to working modified hours because I just
couldn't handle working 44 hours a week, so I dropped down to 34 or
36. But at least I was working. I pulled my own weight. There were
days I couldn't hug my child because I was in so much pain. When we
got notice that they weren't paying for my drugs anymore I took a
leave of absence from work. My body couldn't even drag it's self out
of bed. I was humiliated. It was bad enough that I had to hobble
into work, more often than not using my canes or walker. Now I
couldn't even do that. I fought long battles with the insurance
company, the things I had worked so hard for seemed to slip from my
grasp. It didn't matter that I was educated to the insurance company
I was just a problem to be dealt with. My daughter giggled with glee
when I walked her to school riding my walker and couldn't understand
just why I wouldn't drag it out more often for her to have fun with.
I finally won the battle with the insurance company and with the
government. It was a sad battle because I still wanted to work.
Truth is I still do. But I do work, I'm a mom. When I walk my kid
to the school bus every morning and greet her as she comes home. I
did it for her. I willingly gave up my career to be a good parent.
I lost the ability to even do a job that I hated (even though I did
exceedingly well), but I could be a better parent. When I got
pregnant I made a vow that my child would be the number one priority
in my life and I haven't broken that yet. So it doesn't matter that
I had 27 jobs in 27 years and after that I stopped counting the
amount. It doesn't matter that I have 2 certificates and a diploma.
It doesn't matter that I have a house I have managed to hold on to by
the skin of my teeth. It only matters that she is emotionally looked
after, has a home and wakes up every morning knowing she is loved and
provided for and protected and sets her head on the pillow every
night knowing the same thing. So when you ask me what I do for a
living, I'm a mom. And a damn good one.
