When my mom was-fifty four, she left her job after ten years. She had gotten the job working for a family friend after receiving her bookkeeping certificate in her early forties, yet after a professional disagreement that turned personal, she felt it was better they went their separate ways.
When she initially left her job, the turmoil was heavy on my family. Not because we struggled financially, thankfully we were in a good position, but the strain on my mother was clear. As someone already prone to anxiety, the stress of the disagreement with her friends weighed on her, but more importantly she understood the path she had set herself on; as a woman in her fifties she now had to find a new job.
Two years, and one payroll certificate later, she is nearly ready to get back into the workforce. However, as a fifty-six year old woman, her anxiety is running high. I remember a time when I was looking for a part time job. I attended interviews weekly, exhaustively selling myself in a way that became less and less believable each time. As a twenty-two year old woman, that was an experience crucial for me to go through. The act of the job search is grueling, and all the other girls my age appearing at the interviews with similar looking outfits clutching our printed resumes, felt the same. As a woman in my early twenties, this is the environment I was meant to experience, and I found it exceedingly overwhelming.
Nearing her fifty-seventh birthday, I am unsure what is going through my moms mind. Not only is she already anxious to step back into the workforce, but the world she built her education in, is seemingly unreachable. Credentials she needs to obtain are hidden behind password protected walls that didn’t exist when she had attended the schools, processing times take weeks for tasks that would have taken days when she was young. She is stepping back into a world that has changed, and though she is trying her best to adjust with it, it is changing at too quick a pace.
I have had many conversations with my mom about this topic, about her fear of going back, and the counterproductive nature of it when she will only retire some years after. She finds herself stuck between wondering if she would be better served enjoying her life now, or finishing what she had started and enjoying her life later, and I cannot decide if either option is wrong.
My mom didn’t work when I was young, she stayed at home with my sister and I, taking care of us, cleaning the house, making dinner, and holding the family together. When she stopped working two years ago, she naturally fell back into that same role. She was reminded then how imperative the job of motherhood was, how she punched in once and never punched out, how she didn't get benefits or even pay, yet found it worthy on all accounts for the ability to be there for our family whenever she needed to. She was able to clean the house in peace and fold laundry without multitasking, and was quickly reminded of the joys her old career had brought her.
I’m unsure if my mom will go back to work. If she does, I hope she finds it inspiring and goes for the right reasons, but if she does not, I will make sure to thank her endlessly while she assumes the roles she has forever described as thankless.
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