Pardon, you might think you’re at the wrong blog today. But I’ve got to go on another career-related rant. My colleague told me today that someone was “upset” at the organization. When I asked why, I was told that the someone had wanted to apply for a promotion but wasn’t allowed to because of a lack of a specific key qualification. That someone was upset: I’ve been here for years, and I’ve never been given the opportunity to do that!
…….. Really? Really??
Ok. Nerve? Torched. Because honest to Jeopardy, darling, that’s just it, isn’t it? You’ve been here for years and that’s the end of your response? No one took care of you? Did you do anything about it? Or did you sit there like a limp noodle the whole time and then jump at the chance for more money without considering what you needed to do in order to land that peach? [I can answer that. No. Didn’t do nuffin’.]
And now you’re upset at the organization that wronged you. Honestly.
“I wasn’t given an opportunity.”
“I didn’t get a chance to show you what I could do.”
I’ll give you a hint: These are not the phrases to use when you want a job or a promotion and you’ve been told that you’re underqualified because of some missing skill or qualification.
In fact, I will heartily tell you that I am sick of hearing them. Don’t even think it. Imagine your upcoming job or career opportunities. Imagine what the recruiter, hiring manager or resume screener is going to think when he/she/it looks at your resume and compares it to the list of what they want or need. If you find yourself reverting to those up there as your only answer (aka: excuse) when your hiring manager disabuses you of the notion that you’re going to get the job, I want you to Shake Yourself.
Non. Non.
Not only will that not get you the job, it will, in certain eyes, reduce any respect they might have had for you. Like mine.
Tell me, why do you need the opportunities given to you?
Let me tell you what I’ve discovered that phrase and the utterers have in common: a need for spoonfeeding. It says to me, on your behalf: When you hire me, I’m going to ask you basic questions to which I should know the answers or should be able to find myself. And when you don’t have time to feed me, I’m going to do something else without bothering to try to find out the answer myself.
As it turns out, Google is your friend. As it turns out, there are tons of other resources available and when it comes to allocation of resources, do you want to waste our half hour on: “How do I write my review? How does this process work? What should I write?”
Or do you want to spend it talking over which skills you need to set you up for a cool new project and in line for a promotion? Because I will answer the question you ask. But if you want to throw away what I can do for you, then you are throwing away your own opportunity. And frankly, I have too many other people asking for time and attention to mollycoddle anyone who won’t do anything but flip their hair and flap their hands until the next question.
I’m inclined to helping people grow and learn but there’s only so much pushing I can do. I’ve learned my lesson – I’m not going to hire any more people who display that lack of savvy and initiative if I can help it.
Sometimes, it’s valid
Granted, there are certain things you need the support of others to do, you need the authority to do, or you plain cannot have without someone giving something up.
Very true, you must be given some of those things. However. You can show your initiative by learning about the things you want to do even if you cannot whole-cloth have them. You can take classes, you can shadow people who are doing the job, you can ask them to mentor and teach you, you can volunteer elsewhere to pick up the experience you want even if it’s not in the same place or environment.
If it’s an internal promotion you have your sights on, you should, without being obnoxious about it, express your interest clearly in the kind of advancement or experience you would like and why. In general, you should always be doing that anyway!
If you’re going for a new job and it wasn’t your job to do the work in question but you’ve gone and learned it anyway, you bet your boot nails I will rate you more highly than a person who did have the work and was not distinguished in any way by how they did it.
Think about it: who looks better? The one with fire in the belly, clearly has special interest and has done something about it? Or the one who has been flapping hands around in a puddle looking like doing a job? I’m no idiot – I want the fire-eater, every time.
That’s not to say that someone who already does the job always gets trumped by an up and comer, I’m just saying that there are clearly mediocre lifer-type candidates who barely do their job. We know they shouldn’t get promoted over someone with real potential because they aren’t capable. But — you can’t be that newcomer if you don’t realize your own potential. No one can do that but YOU.
Potential is just resting, potential is possibilities. Don’t tell me you have potential. Show me what that potential can be. Get out there and show what you’re capable of with every possible tool at your disposal. Ask for support and learn new things. Don’t just sit there waiting for opportunity to present itself. You’re just kicking opportunity in the face.
Show me your will, that is the way.
Ironically, as I write this, I clicked through an email notifying me that Erica.biz has posted on her blog, writing about her journey of the past ten years. I keep an eye on people who have the same drive to succeed that I do, even if my path is nowhere near like hers. And you know what? The essence of her message is very much the same:
This world does not hand you success. It certainly doesn’t hand you a job. I’ve had to fight for everything I’ve had in this life. I’ve taught myself what I need to know to be successful. And, if you see yourself in any of this, my message to you is: You can do it, too. Just don’t expect it to be easy.
[For the record: I passed along a message to my colleague. If that someone did something like take initiative, I’d do a solid in return and recommend that a future application be considered. I may have learned my lesson but that someone should learn one too.]
There were so many great and interesting comments left on my post about whether or not to have children that I had trouble responding to enough of them in the comments. I appreciated everyone’s thoughts on their personal situations and decision-making.
I also had second, third and several other thoughts about whether or not to discuss one particular theme of the comments further, partly because there was a reason I left out some important, relevant information out: I didn’t necessarily want that to be the center of the post and I tend to leave that subject under wraps.
But it was an underlying theme of the comments because I left it out and it is relevant to the conversation because it’s a huge part of my life even if I do try to pretend that it’s not. Like it or no, the physical limitation aspect of my life is a factor in every decision I make, every minute of every day. And it’s not like I haven’t mentioned it once or twicebefore, so I’m not sure why I still instinctively try to sweep it under the rug like it’s not a big deal.
@thecelt, you made me laugh out loud. PRECISELY. There IS no “kinda-kid” out there. So I want to know for sure. If I’m doing this, I’m committing!
@Sense: From the Mixed up Files was an absolute favorite. Definitely fed the runaway fantasies. 😉
@MovingEast: I actually think through those cliches without feeling like they’re cliches… they are true. I see new parents experiencing the wonder of new kids in their lives and I love it. And I see the decisions they have to make and learn from that too. It’s not that I don’t think they’re worth it once you choose it, in the abstract.
@nicoleandmaggie: He will have to be more than half the parent, I think, and that’s what I worry about. It’s got to be something we’re both willing to sacrifice for because I suspect (see below) it’s going to be excruciating in the beginning for me and then a huge commitment with most of the burden shifting to him. Emotionally, I may have a lot of trouble with that. For me. (Selfishly. Whatever. Again, see below.)
@oilandgarlic: No judgement on anyone else but I definitely want to know now because I don’t want to start in my mid-30’s. For me, I feel like that would be waiting too long because of how my health has progressed.
*****
On the point where PiC and I have to talk this out: we do, when it comes to making the final decision.
I do only speak for myself on this blog and frequently leave his thoughts out of it because he doesn’t have any desire to be present here. (I’ve asked.) But that’s not to say he doesn’t know my concerns and worries, and he understands them. The evolution of my feelings on the subject hasn’t been a secret to him.
He’s not terribly concerned about our different feelings on the matter, we’ll figure it out together, he’s always known that we’ve been coming at this from different personal experiences.
*****
I live with something that’s long mimicked rheumatoid arthritis (or lupus) and fibromyalgia. It’s neither of the first two so far as tests are concerned, but most of the symptoms match up. It started out affecting just a few areas, umpteen years ago, but now it’s everywhere, and any combination of joints and muscles are usually at some level of pain akin to holding an open flame against that muscle or joint every single day.
I spent over fifteen years trying to get a diagnosis and the conclusion is only that I have chronic pain, which isn’t a diagnosis. It’s only a conclusion and defines my experience: pain that doesn’t stop, that has lasted over six months, and doesn’t necessarily have a definitive origin. Stress, being tired, lack of sleep all exacerbate the pain and pain causes all three in a feedback loop. Awesome. That was still better than the many years of idiot doctors telling me that it wasn’t possible for me to be feeling the kind of pain that I was feeling.
When it flares, I can be out of commission for hours, days, or weeks at a time. At the beginning of any flare, I won’t know what the damage will be or how long it’ll last. Stress of the emotional or physical sort can start a flare. Energy is severely limited. There are days typing on a keyboard, lifting a pen, or using a knife and a fork requires too much effort. I have to be incredibly selective about how much activity I commit to because if I push myself too hard these days? Too much of anything can cause fatigue and pain that effectively destroys my ability to functions for days thereafter.
So you might better understand my reluctance to head right into motherhood on the basis of physical limitations. It’s more than just an age thing, it’s more than just a “normal” reluctance. I’m starting from the knowledge that not only do I not have my once-vaunted capacity to power through any and all challenges anymore, I have to be very careful that I don’t step into, essentially, a lifelong landmine. Bringing life into this world is a serious business and the last thing I want to do is make a hash of it because I don’t have it in me to carry through.
******
One way to make this work is to be financially stable enough to afford child care. A lot of it. I don’t feel right about not raising my own children, but I’m not foolish enough to think that I could do a lot of the physical stuff on my own anymore. If we were earning enough that one of us could stay home with the kids, and also had some help with the kids to make up for my part, that could be one way to handle the situation.
Alternatively, I don’t have to bear our children. Instead, we could do what I’ve always wanted to do: adopt. That comes with its own risks, challenges and expenses but that’s an option I’ve always loved and saves at least the physical burden of pregnancy.
I’ve been concerned about that because, though childless, I help others with their kids a lot, and it wipes me out. Every. Single. Time. That tells me that I’m not prepared for the physical challenges of pregnancy. And as recounted by many many friends in stark honesty? The fatigue, the internal upheaval, the damage to the body? I am not prepared for that.
This brings down the total final cost of his/Doggle’s chariot to just about $3000. (Give or take, I was … not listening to the registration cost update…. for some reason. “Husband/wife frequencies” have set in. For those not familiar with the phrase, I’m jokingly referring to the supposed phenomenon that people stop listening to their partners after marriage. We really do fail to listen/hear each other because we’re not really paying attention but we just repeat later. Don’t worry, it’s just a running joke.)
It occurred to me, as I was walking the laundry to the bedroom and half listening to the whole sale process update, that I’ve become remarkably hands off with certain things. Then I wondered if I’m leaving those things that are typically left to the menfolk.
Thinking back a year or so to the back-home household, I did everything that I had time for no matter whose domain it might fall in: Searching for grocery bargains/couponing, debt payoff, savings, investing, planning for the future, deciding when to buy, sell, fix and maintain the household vehicles, repairs around the house or arranging for them to happen: all the money, all the time, all my area. There were certain tasks I delegated when I ran out of time, but nothing’s out of my territory.
But time is finite, things have to fall out to others and I had to start trusting that someone else could take the reins. Sharing a household up north, I’ve stepped back to let PiC set the pace rather than just jumping in and doing everything. There was no reason, and certainly it wouldn’t be sane, with another able-bodied and fully capable adult, to take on a second household’s responsibilities solo.
But we never really discussed who would do what, formally or directly. We just did what needed to be done, day to day and month to month. I started thinking about why it was that I left the car stuff to PiC. Was I just ceding the car stuff because it was a “guy thing”?
How do we divide our labor?
We’ve trended toward the things we like best or doing the things that achieve the goals that are most important to us.
I enjoy cooking, cleaning as I go, and serving meals. It’s a thing my dad and I enjoy doing but he always took the lion’s share of the responsibility since I worked more than 60 hour weeks. Now with just the two of us, feeding ourselves isn’t really a choice and I’ve lucked out that PiC’s got an easy palate to please to boot. It also takes less out of me than vacuuming or washing floors if I’m not overly ambitious.
I love finances enough to overcome my reluctance to talk to people after a long day at work, but it’s really important to correct any financial charges or fees, and get the lowest plans so I do all the financial negotiations.
PiC loves Craigslist – I hate it. I don’t like browsing or using it. He loves Craigslisting, doesn’t mind dealing with people at all, and looooves looking at cars, specifically, and furniture. So he’s our resident used things buyer. He also really loves a clean house, or needs it more than I need one in comparison to, say, rest, so he’s the vacuum and floors master.
He’s a great sous chef but he hates new recipes while I get bored with making the same food over and over so we try new things together occasionally but oftentimes I just take over the kitchen entirely.
Physical limitations come into play so that affects the division: I’m not hauling all the heaviest stuff upstairs, but I’m the fastest errand runner/grocery shopper and laundry folder ever. And of course I’m the CFO-consultant (ahem, control freak) before any major decisions are made. (Hi, Chariot.)
We split the laundry and the Doggle duties. I really enjoy laundry duty but we have different ideas on when it should be done. He prefers to do less frequent washing but it all comes out to the same amount of washing. He catches just about all the Doggle walking, we share the Doggle bathing, but I do almost all the Doggle doctoring. Fair? Sort of. Each to their own strengths on that point – it’s because Doggle pulls like he’s in the freaking Iditarod much of the time and that’s rough. Doesn’t mean I don’t do it, just that I do it less often.
At the end of the day, I can’t say that we don’t observe some gender biases. I doubt they are specifically because of our sexes. We weren’t taught to do certain things because we were born male or female, though my parents did decline to teach me how to play a guitar because I was too little to hold one. We tend to play to our strengths and preferences according to our values.
I grew up on a steady diet of books like Margeret Sidney’s Five Little Peppers and How They Grew (available free on Project Gutenberg!), Gertrude Chandler Warner’s The Boxcar Children, and Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women. (Also all the sci fi and fantasy I could get my hands on, but that’s irrelevant to this conversation.) I wondered if I’d romanticize the notion of families and raising children under less than rosy circumstances as a result of that early brainwashing.
I do think families should pull together and do whatever needs to be done to get through tough times, and I do think families should take care of each other. Obviously. But econo-philosophically, I developed in my teenage years a much more “I will never be poor again!” determination a la Gone With the Wind than any willingness to try to lead the loving but impoverished lifestyle.
That’s not to say that I think money is the answer to a good childhood or a happy home life. I grew up poor, as a first generation immigrant kid. My parents arrived on these shores with nothing but the clothes on their back and a babe in their arms. But we were, in my opinion, still relatively well off: we didn’t have to beg, dig through bins for leavings to put food on the table. Mom and Dad found just enough opportunity to work incredibly hard, and we kids pitched in as well, we used hand me downs and didn’t shop new until I was a teenager so our basic needs were always filled. But we did live on the edge of poor, spiral-dancing that line between not having much and poverty.
And we can’t deny that money is one of the major factors that may have significant impact on the outcomes of a child’s life. While I suspect that much of my sibling’s manipulative and attentive seeking behaviors were natural, I did also see that he was quite affected by having less than others, and not having our parents around enough during those formative years to instill the sense of confidence and gratitude for what we did have certainly didn’t help. If I’m having kids and there’s any external factor that I can influence to prevent the development of risky behaviors, it’ll be my job to do it.
From a purely practical standpoint, there’s no question that having financial freedom does make life more manageable these days. Leaving aside the luxuries, being able to easily make ends meet and still have time to spend with your little ones are core requirements of having them to begin with, to my thinking.
The thing that was missing from my childhood, though, was a chance to spend real time with my parents. Time “with” Mom and Dad was helping them at work, or doing chores with them at home. Or the talks at night after dinner if they weren’t too busy or tired. While I didn’t precisely resent it at the time, I was always sad we rarely did much as a family. I definitely do regret it now that I’ve lost the chance to truly enjoy their later years with them.
***
When I envisioned that stage of my life, I simply could not see choosing to start a family at a low-earning point in my career knowing that I would have to miss key years of my childrens’ lives while fighting an uphill climb of long hours and probably political battles to advance. Looking forward, it was just unlikely that our generation was going to be settled into a single and easy career straight out of college. So far, that’s definitely been the case.
***
Now that I prepare to move into that stage of my life, it seems like whether or not I’ll be having a family of my own is a question I should have an answer for. But I don’t.
I don’t know if I want children.
That’s basically blasphemy around some of these parts. I’ve caught the lecture that “children are the reason you get married.” Because you couldn’t possibly want to have a partner without procreation following quickly thereafter. That was a disconcerting moment, coming from someone nearly ten years younger than me. I expect it from the (specifically judgy individuals of the) older generation: we’re selfish, we’re lazy, and we’re [fill in the blank] if we don’t have kids. But it’s weird when a youngun judges you for maybe not wanting kids.
I don’t know if I don’t want children, either.
As a teen, I was certain that they weren’t in my future. Other people’s children were adorable, but every child has obnoxious mode. I babysat them all the time and most of them were cute some of the time but they invariably turned into Gremlins and they did not wait for a predictable trigger like feeding after midnight or being splashed with water so it just wasn’t worth the effort. And I mean: childbirth. Ugh.
More than ten years later, it’s not the idea of children that is shudderingly bad but rather the concern about motherhood that looms. My health issues aren’t getting any better so how could I be a fully present, fully capable mother? And I worried enough about my sibling, could I take on the challenge if I had a kid like my sibling? With no intentions of projecting that expectation on my spawn, I still have to be aware that there is a chance that one or more children might inherit whatever combination of whatever led to that mess, and do my best to guide him or her out of it before it became a real disaster.
To further complicate things, I can’t be certain that I’m capable of working full time and managing a pregnancy or raising a child. The responsibilities of taking care of Doggle alone, who is fairly low-key, are enough to take up my limited reserves. And I can’t count on getting better. It hasn’t happened yet.
Adoption was always my go-to option but again, children deserve time, attention and require energy.
I wanted this to be my decision, and the right decision for me and my spouse. But it’s one of those I’ve not felt strongly for or against, other than not making a mistake. When do you know you’re ready for kids? How do you know that you know, if you were never completely certain from the very beginning that you wanted to have them?
Once in a while, I find myself second-guessing my decisions. Should I really have waited this long, even though I’ve never felt that driving urge to have children? PiC really wants a family and perhaps I could have physically handled it earlier? I certainly thought I was making the wisest choices at the time, but was it really?
Once upon a time, I swatted away the cautionary notes, the “there won’t ever be a good time”s, the “if you don’t now, then when?”s like annoying gnats. But I’m finally there. On the cusp of my thirties, I’m at the point where I have to admit that for childbearing, I’m not getting any younger. It’s time to make some real decisions, even if not yet time to commit.
I’ve never paid more than $50 to adopt a pet, and rarely even that much, in the past, so this adoption was quite a bit unusual in a number of ways.
I have never considered purchasing from a breeder or a pet store – my philosophy against that is clear. Those future pets will eventually find homes because they were bred with the intent to be sold and someone has a vested interest in placing them elsewhere; animals in shelters and rescues are only a step away from euthanasia. I am an adopter, always. I was that kid hauling home strays trying to figure out who they belonged to and how to get them home if they had a home. Once in a rare while, we would become the new home. My parents were sympathetic but they weren’t crazy or wealthy so it was a meal and a roof until the dog could be placed somehow.
It was a lot easier, back in the day down south, when we had a yard. Someone was sort of always around to keep an eye on the pups running around or keep them separated if you had a new stray in. Surrounded by friends and family nearby, you could even easily phone someone for a quick drop in if you really had to on an extra busy day to feed the dog(s). We never did that but you always knew the safety net was there.
Now, though, PiC and I wanting to bring home a dog is a very different story. The simple lack of a yard alone changes the game entirely. Add in the frequently inclement weather, our working hours and commute times, all of these spelled out a need for a completely different approach.
Suddenly, we had to satisfy a profile if this was to work. We couldn’t just pick a nice looking friendly pup and call it a day. We especially couldn’t have a puppy: they need attention, socialization, training, access to the outdoors/potty pads every few hours while they’re learning bladder control since neither of us wants to have to unteach bad habits we helped instill.
I’d been wanting an older dog; PiC prefers larger dogs. We knew we needed a dog that enjoyed going for walks but could tolerate being indoors for long periods of time. This dog had to be dog-friendly and kid-friendly because there are loads of both running around here, and not a barker by nature. We’ve been living with a barker below us and it’s driving us batty but we tolerate it. I guarantee you, however, that the neighbors would not be so tolerant in return. There are some incredibly petty people in this HOA.
Looking at shelters alone didn’t quite cut it. While they were great starting points because they had all kinds of lovely dogs we were limited from the outset against adopting specific breeds, and the local shelter is heavily stocked with those specific breeds. My favorites were cut straightaway, the jerks! They don’t allow Rottweilers, Pit Bulls, Dobermanns, etc. Breedists. I despise blanket restrictions like that. I love dogs of just about any breed and pit bulls especially because they can be so very good-tempered, intelligent and trainable, and the local shelters prescribe mandatory training classes when they adopt out pit bulls which is absolutely smart, so it’s a great set-up for their lives, but noooo…. *still bitter about this*
We stumbled across a specific breed rescue that pulls northern breeds from shelters and puts them into foster homes directly, and while Doggle’s actually not really a pinpointable member of any of the breeds they cater to, he’s close enough that they couldn’t resist him.
He’d been with them a year, had a surgical procedure and follow-up, vaccinations, a microchip placed, and was mellow the whole time. Reviewing that year with him, his foster mom was able to give us his history of behavior, preferences, reactions to people, other dogs, changes, diet, toys, length of time he was happy to be left alone – all of this practically before we ever came to see him. When we met him, he was this chubby cheeked cheerful fellow that just radiated curiosity and goodwill. He’s been that way ever since. It would have been tough to get that consistent and detailed a perspective from most shelters.
While our local shelter does do fostering and would have been half the price, they didn’t have anyone that fit enough of the profile that wasn’t a Pit. (I love our Doggle and wouldn’t trade him but I’m still annoyed on behalf of the Pits who won’t get placed because of places like ours.) I truly look forward to moving into a home where the only rules are our own: a dog that is in need of a home, trainable and gets along with other dogs and people.
The high(er) cost for his adoption, then, was because of the rescue organization that we went with. They are non-profit, yes, and it also costs a lot to rescue, care for and maintain the dogs for the length of time it takes to get them to their permanent homes. All the volunteers, going all the way up to the top of the organization, work for free. (I checked.) While I’m not one to pay a higher price for perceived value, this was a higher price for something we put a high premium on: knowledge that we could rely on and the availability of a pet that was the right fit.
Also, let’s not kid ourselves about the cute factor.
The average American wedding is said to cost in the neighborhood of $25,000. The average Asian wedding, of all the weddings I’ve helped to organize, are in that neighborhood as well, if not more depending on your guest list. We may not have too much set yet but I can tell you this much: that’s not happening.
It’s actually sort of funny that we’re caught in between the weird expectations of both. We have gently corrected people from all sides of the equation: no guys, we’re not throwing a big American-tradition wedding because we don’t actually have to live up to everyone else’s expectations. No, guys, we’re not throwing a Gigantor Asian wedding because we don’t actually have to. We’re not inviting many members of my family and depending on our guests to subsidize the bill. (To clarify: Dozens of family guest lists have been created by the phrase “who cares how many people are there? They’ll pay their own way.” I am happy to be an anomaly.)
We’re setting our own budget and paying our own bill out of pocket. And doing it our way. #utterlyforeign
Confession time: We have barely been saving for this thing. Yes, we have been together for years, but I honestly was not expecting to be engaged this year. I wasn’t expecting anything at any time. As far as I’m concerned, this thing just happened. For me, I’m scrambling to get ahead of the 8-ball. But the half lifetime of good habits means that we won’t be piling debt upon debt, we won’t be going into debt for this wedding, and we won’t be spending our entire cash reserves for it either.
You all know that a budget was certainly the first thing I’d want to do before we committed to anything. Still is, since we’ve only talked about plans in theory and the only thing we’ve I’ve spent on so far is a dress that I expect to return to J.Crew returned to J.Crew.
PiC, however, is not addicted to personal finance, nor a PF blogger, so found my need to laser-focus on immediately carving out savings goals disconcerting. I don’t blame him, though I did pout for a minute. 😉 Things are different now that we’re becoming more and more bonded – we move more slowly than I’m used to and I can’t make all the executive and financial decisions in a split second. The flip side of that change is that I no longer bear all the burdens alone. It’s a fair enough trade, I think.
I digress.
I’m working with a skeleton number mentally and that’s actually ok for now.
We’ve noodled our guest list. It’s not final but it’s down to 180 which is near miraculous considering what we were starting with. We’re happy with the concept of a tiny ceremony and a casual lunch type meal with the bigger group of people we’d invite (and therefore feed). Pictures are important to him, and by extension, me, so we’ll have to hire an actual photographer.
With those factors in mind, the three most important items we’ll have to worry about are: setting a date, booking a venue, and booking a photographer.
I’m aiming to keep our total cost within the $7000 range. I’d like to make it a challenge to myself, but I’ll be honest with y’all, I’m a bit worried I won’t be able to do it.
Obstacles: Feed 180 people delicious food, Hosting them in a relatively nice, clean (not relatively), place, Caveat: Homes and backyards are not an option, we don’t know anyone with that capacity Have great photos. Do it all without stressing overmuch. ** Have I missed anything?
** Being annoyed doesn’t count. It’s not allowed to count.
We’re pricing things out now. The little things are easier. A marriage license: $100. Dress alterations: $ UM. Airfare to SoCal before the wedding: Southwest Rapid Rewards! <3
The big things, they’re negotiable. It’s a start.
The question of motivational staying power was raised on Twitter. @add_vodka asked:
@RevancheGS @GrlRedBalloon @serendipity85 How do you keep motivated to make sure you don’t give up?
My gut response felt too flippant to say aloud. It wasn’t meant to be but I could see how, for people who don’t know me well or haven’t read this blog, could hear it as a dismissal of their very real issue. So I dug deeper. I asked PiC how to explain how I stay motivated because it’s not something I think about. And in the asking, I realized my answer, in large part.
My short answer was: Generational Poverty. I’m never going back and neither are my parents.
My long answer? In my matriarchial line, I need to break the cycle of poorness. You see, as much as I carry my patriarchal grandmother in my spine, I carry my mother in my soul.
Mom grew up, impoverished, in the depths of rural Vietnam. Her father was a schoolteacher who earned just enough to feed his family for a number of years, but not much better than that. I expect they married too young, had her – the first – too young; had too many children, period. Month to month, their family stretched a single small sack of rice bought on credit against the next month’s paycheck. They ate rice porridge, supplemented by some fish if the kids could catch any, flavored with nuoc nam (fish sauce) if they couldn’t. She was cooking, cleaning and raising her three younger siblings by the age of 8, and more kids were always on the way. There was love and support from her grandparents but nothing in the way of money.
As the oldest, she was expected to fend for herself. Needed a new pair of pants? She had to raise a chicken, sell the eggs, and save the money long enough to buy cloth and sew it herself. The same went for school supplies, or any other needs. Not wants, needs. But, if a sibling needed something before she could make her clothes, she had to give it up for him or her. The family was utterly poor, and she was expected to bear the heaviest burden. The burden wasn’t just in taking care of herself far too early, it was to provide for her siblings, and that lasted well into adulthood. While she shouldered it without question, she was bound and determined never to struggle at that level again.
Fast forward about forty years, she’d worked herself to the bone running two small businesses with my dad only to find her health declining, her son a mess, and no trace left of what was meant to be our family fortune. A modest fortune it would have been, but sufficient to buy a home, send two kids to college, and keep my parents through their retirement. Business hadn’t been awful but life happens, as it does, and she found herself both in the same place she’d sworn never to be again, the place she said we would never be exposed to, this time without the ability to bootstrap her way out of it as she had always done. Her parents and siblings were fine, but in the process, she had sacrificed herself.
It tore my heart to see her struggling, helpless, against the twin depredations of disease and remembered and oncoming poverty. The first preceded the other, as is so often the case with many stories of financial ruin, but not by much. It wasn’t just the disease. It was the combination of family illnesses, debts, and lack of informed financial planning that meant she couldn’t simply seek treatment and recuperate. Financial instability added anxiety and depression to the toxic mix of medical conditions complicating her health.
Had they planned for the future better, had they saved more carefully instead of taking care of her myriad family to the tune of tens of thousands of dollars, had they been more cognizant of all the emergencies that could and would arise: all the if onlys, we should haves, they could haves intertwined and spiraled into the mom I know now.
Personally, I never want to go back to my college days. Working 80-100 hour weeks, school 40 hours a week, sleeping a few hours a night, and still slaving over a checkbook scraping the pennies together at the end of every pay period, under a tiny lamp light. That was miserable. But memories of personal misery fade.
The memories of my mom and all she’s sacrificed for me. The memories of how hard she worked, how determined she was to lift herself and her family out of their dirt-grubbing poverty. Those ghosts are in my marrow, my tissue, the air I breathe.
So when someone asks me about my motivation, about how I keep going, how do I not give up, the simplest answer is: I don’t know how.
When I took over for her, it began as a fight for survival. Now, it’s fully ingrained. The responsibilities and emergencies will only grow in greater proportion with time. I have my parents to take care of. I have myself to take care of. I may have future generations to educate and support for some time. And the only way to do it is very careful and diligent financial planning. That’s how my motivation is sustained.
It’s a very different answer, I think, than the one that @add_vodka was looking for, which was more practical stuff, so I saved this longer answer for the blog.
The more practical simple answer is, of course, to set goals and align your goals to your values. But there’s value in knowing why you’d want to do any of that in the first place. The Great Big Why of it, if you will.