Not everyone has the true full support of a partner in life. I didn’t until I turned 38. Now that I do, this is how it changed my life.
After having grown up in a typical American family, full of strong, moral, risk adverse yet friendly, warm and capable Midwest folk, I was convinced my path in life was to “learn how to take care of myself” which meant get a full time job in good-ole steady, Corporate America. After years of climbing that Manhattan ladder, what I found was chest pains with decreasing benefits. Yes Alanis Morrisette, ironic if you ask me.
Anymore, the benefits of Corporate America are slowly decreasing for people like myself. Those in Middle America, adequately educated working your way up with as much integrity as you can hold onto. Greeted with crappy, restrictive and expensive health care, dwindling support for retirement plans and when was the last time you heard of a good pension?
With over 300 emails plus an average of 8 meetings a day and oh yes, the expectation of a boatload of productivity outside of those meetings, my body literally began to fail me. The stress was winning day to day. I had no desire to be an exchangeable resource, tapped out and tossed aside while major company stakeholders made millions. I found that Corporate America and I were terrible dance partners.
Thankfully, I worked my way to debt free at the precise moment I received a bonus large enough I could follow my new Husband’s advise and walk away.
My amazing Italian Husband, so beloved to me that I call him Bello (Handsome in Italian) and I developed a plan. The plan you ask, was pretty simple, three months to detox from the stress. Then a few more months to figure it out… how to make money, without returning to the corporate world.
I had enough in savings to buy myself this time. I also had strong contacts, good relationships and people who had risen to high places in my rolodex. People I had worked hard for, worked hard with and people who were already asking to hire me.
That simple plan though did not entirely account for the first month after the detox when all my reliable, risk adverse ingrained behaviors started echoing in the back of my mind like a slow mo shot of the last penny hitting a concrete floor… ting, ting, ting.
With this blog, I will fight the tide of inevitability.
I will write, hopefully not appallingly, I’m no Jane Austin… more like a Sylvia Plath so far, detailing how my discontent drives me to strive for better. Yet, I’ve decided to fearfully, struggle forward to find my creative path and share the journey.
Yes, it’s true, living in Manhattan as a couple, we have little choice right now. I’ll have to find a way to bring in a little money, it will be less. With the support of my Husband, who is strong, more stubborn and wiser than I, I will bring in just my half of the expenses for a while, not much more, a fraction of what I made before.
My heart will hear the music of my Husband as a dance partner, not Corporate America.
With anyone who finds this blog, I will share my true passions. Cooking, eating, drinking and traveling fearlessly, not perfectly or professionally. Sorry squeamish readers, I am not a Mother and my truth, my journey is not PG.
My kitchen and this blog are judgement free palaces. A place to experiment, be as creative as I like. Mise En Place is my painters pallet. I can only hope to be like all brave artists who create for themselves. Who knows, maybe you’ll get the picture too.
Photo Above: My Husband (aka Bello) a professional photographer is constantly taking photos. It’s through his lens that I am beautiful, capable, strong and stubborn. It’s through his lens which I wish to see myself for the rest of my life.