I Don't Want To Grow Up…

As I get closer to my graduation date–and the end of the stay-at-home mom era–the more nervous I get. It’s not like I never worked in the real world before–I was a municipal secretary for 8.5 years, in addition to working in the call center of a national mail order nursery, and the various part-time jobs people hold in customer service, retail, etc. The last four years have changed me however. How can I return to working for asshats when I’ve been in the driver’s seat of my destiny? I dread it.

This has resulted in some extensive thinking about my options. While I want to be a published author, it is not only a difficult thing to accomplish, it’s also largely unreliable as far as income goes–and writing with small children in the house isn’t always possible. I’m not saying it’s impossible–there are plenty of authors out there who do manage to make it work–but I find it difficult to concentrate with all the demands that children make and therefore can’t seem to get past the short story genre.

My thoughts have turned toward opening my own business lately–a sort of hands-on effort to help in the revitalization of my hometown by actively contributing to the process. I wouldn’t have to travel very far, so I wouldn’t need to replace my 12-year-old mode of transport as soon, and I wouldn’t require daycare for the boy, but this plan has its own pitfalls–mainly that 50% of the businesses I’m considering opening fail in the first three years. Ouch. We’re not exactly wealthy here and that’s a huge risk when you don’t have any money to begin with.

Still, I’m researching and gathering opinions. Considering and trying to see if I can wrap my head around the numbers. Trying to be an adult even though I’d rather bury myself under the covers and pretend the outside world doesn’t exist. I don’t really have to work, do I?

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