What do you do for a living?

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.