I know all about trying to find a job in the current economic climate. But I didn’t lose my job because of it. When I moved back to Texas to take care of my dad, I left a job where I was making good money, thinking I could go back to work “later,” like after I figured out just how much “taking care of” my dad needed. His pension and Social Security, plus my brother’s income, were enough to cover my bills and groceries along with the rest of the household expenses. The biggest adjustment was living under the same roof with the two of them. And it was a lot more of an adjustment than I expected to suddenly not have a job to go to every morning.
That was 2002, and my dad was 91. He recovered fairly well from the mild stroke that had brought me home from Kentucky, and his natural cantankerousness would always prevent him for asking for help or admitting he wasn’t feeling well. I found myself on surveillance duty, and bored out of my skull. The chores I would have kept myself busy with were things I enjoy doing most when I’m on my own — without an audience — without an old man insisting he needs to help and getting hurt feelings when I turn him down. Add stress to the boredom.
This was long before I knew anything about dealing with a dementia sufferer, and long before my brother and I knew that was what was happening to our dad. So, of course, we didn’t handle things all that well.
I started hanging out at the Texas Cooperative Wildlife Collection about a year after I moved back home. The collection belongs to the Wildlife and Fisheries Sciences Department at Texas A&M, where I got my B.S. degree many years ago. I helped the curators as a volunteer three days a week and enjoyed getting out of the house. And I started looking for a “real” job, so I could make some of my own spending money.
It was always hard having to ask my dad to write me a check, even though it was for groceries or the water bill or whatever. He was a little funny about money. He never had a savings account or any kind of investments. The “Great Depression” had left a deep impression.
My dad died last September, before the current situation achieved crisis proportions. He would not have been aware of what was going on at any rate. But his passing also ended that source of income — what made it possible for me to continue in this “life of lesiure.” And since I live in an area overrun with college students for most of the year, it’s hard to find a job around here even during normal economic times.
I did have a couple of part time jobs for a while, teaching biology for a couple of semesters at the local junior college, and running PCR and DNA analysis in a lab at A&M. Neither of those jobs “worked out.” I really wanted to teach biology, but I just wasn’t prepared for how brutal and merciless a room full of college students can be. They’re fine in small groups, and I have been making a little money as a freelance tutor, but in mobs of twenty or more, they scare the stuffing out of me. Something I had not expected.
So, here I am, faced with many more dire consequences of not having a job/income, yet dreading what it will mean if I do go back to work. I’ve gotten used to managing my own time. My creativity has come out of hiding. I’m painting, drawing, making things, and writing. I play with my dogs (I make fun of them a lot, but I love to have them around for comic relief — for stress relief). I sleep better than I have in years. The pain level from my arthritis is lower. I smile more, I laugh more. Frak it, I’m happy!
