Success

I had an unusually long maternity leave of five months, thanks to the way my former employer's schedule worked out. At the time I was positive that I would go back to work and had my maternity leave been shorter, I am sure that I would have returned. But after a little over three months of maternity leave, just after the real hard part of being a new mom subsided a bit, I came to realize that there was no way that I could go back.

I had known for years that I had grown to despise my profession. But it was an especially addictive habit. From the outside my job seemed glamourous and interesting, I was an "expert" in a field and was able to dispense advice and influence people. And there were some really cool aspects to the job. Travel, nice coworkers and a few super sweet clients, personal daily freedom, flexible-ish hours, an easy-going boss who gave me lots of opportunities. However, I found myself having to compromise my moral boundaries fairly often when dealing with many of our clients. I had to be helpful and pleasant to so many people who I found to be the root of what is currently wrong with our society. It was nearly impossible at times dealing with greed, shallowness, racism and sexism (and oh how I was on the receiving end of that stick). So many times I had to ignore their ethical indiscretions - and I really started to dislike myself for compromising my values. I also hated many of the internal workings of the business, again - the sexism, the low-pay, the lack of acknowledgment, an easy-going boss who would not stand up for me when it would have meant something.

I did, however, like the idea of my career and of being successful. That's why I got a bit crazy when I realized that returning to my job would not have been worth trading time with my son for the stress, headaches and self-loathing, not to mention the lack of a financial trade-off. For weeks before I put in my notice, I couldn't sleep, cried and drove my husband and friends nuts by harping on the subject. I could not imagine a life without being something. How could I have value as a person if I did not have a profession? It's not that I looked down on stay-at-home moms, it's just that I did not get them. How could I possibly answer the question "What do you do?" with "I am staying home with my son."

So when I finally quit, after a few days of crying, I felt relieved. Then after months of de-toxing from my former work environment, I had a renaissance, so to speak. First, it began with, of all stereotypical things, knitting. A friend was visiting from DC and taught me the basics. It felt so freeing to use my hands to actually make something again.

You see, for over a decade my undergrad BFA degree (with an oh so useful drawing concentration) had gone to waste. Every now and then I would try to paint or draw but it always ended in failure. I used to love making art and translating my ideas into something tangible. But long ago, in a life that hardly seems like my own anymore, I stopped. Mainly because I was working full-time, going to grad school, and busy with life as a young woman in NYC. But also because I was in a bad relationship and generally just angry and depressed. Furthermore, I was creatively stifled by my lack of ability to conceptualize - this frustrating failure of my mind made me unable to create the kind of art that I liked. So I just gave up.

Despite all of that drama, I dwelled on the notion that moving to Los Angeles just took me further away from any sort of creative zone. That aside from meeting M, it was a huge mistake to have moved here. Little by little I realized how much better my life had become in Los Angeles. But it was not until having my son and quitting my job that the depression that I had endured for so long had pretty much gone away. I think this new found freedom allowed me to open up and think differently. I began to feel creative again. Surprisingly, I did not give up working on a drawing idea even after several failed attempts of trying to work it out. Then one night I was awakened by a creative breakthrough and I got to work the next day while C was having his morning nap. The piece was a success. I've started working on a series of drawings and I hope that by the summer I will have a large enough body of work to show some galleries.

The 25 year old who once was would be very surprised by the 37 year old who now inhabits her space. She never imagined the level of happiness and contentment that now exists in her life. She never would have thought that leaving a job for the the sake of someone else would actually give her the freedom that she needed to feel alive. Nor would she have ever thought that she would have found such happiness from having a child, or that she would have met and married the most amazing man in, of all places, Los Angeles. I wonder what my 70 year old self is going to think about the person I am right now? I hope that I will have kind thoughts and pride in my younger self for the choices I have made. I know that I'll be her in the blink of an eye, so I'm going to try to let her inform my decisions instead of the 25 year old who was charge for so long.