I gave up on any hope that things could change. I sat at my laptop and wrote an eloquent and damning letter to my superiors, citing specific instances of sexism, abuse of power and poor management. I was passionate but controlled. I took one look at the masterpiece and resolved to send it first thing in the morning. I Quit.
Forty five mornings later
the letter sat unedited and unsent. I whined tirelessly to my future wife about the bitter unfairness of it all. “I just want to write,” I moaned. She started graciously excusing herself from these pity parties a long time ago. “Quit then.” She was so sure of it and it only infuriated me more. She didn’t understand how difficult it would be to resign from a job that was mentally, emotionally and physically taxing. She could never comprehend the effort it would take to begin pursing dreams I wanted more than anything but had convinced myself I would not be very good at. I rolled my eyes and took my tragic monologue to the cat who would surely understand and empathize with my plight.
The late nights and bags of stress I brought home strained my relationship with my son. He started acting out at school and demanding they allow him to return home. Dropping him off was a ballet of bargaining and maintaining emotional neutrality. He cried and begged and asked for one more hug 37 times before the teacher eventually restrained him long enough for me to sprint to my vehicle.
It’s so easy to divert our dreams in the name of responsibility and adulting. I had embraced my martyrdom for the sake of my family but at what cost? They were both miserable in my exhaustion, self pity and general absence.
Forty five days later
I amended my letter. Instead of hatred I approached my two-week notice with gracious surrender. It felt better than the moments of anger and vitriol; it felt like self love.
I freed myself and I’ve never felt more empowered. I’m going to pursue my dream of writing. I’m going to blog about my life and my journey and I’m going to do the hardest thing which is showing up and telling the truth regardless of pain or doubt.
I am Sarah Deddens,
soon to be Slinskey. I am a writer. I am a mom of two beautiful boys, one in VPK and one who never made it to his second birthday. I’m a recovering addict and alcoholic and although I’m abstinent correcting my lingering defects is still a struggle. I quit my job to chase my dreams.
In one year I’ll be walking down the aisle to marry the best person I know and I’m always terrified she is going to find out how truly uncool I am. I know more about the Harry Potter universe than I do about American History but I’m working on that. If you’re reading this… Welcome to the fairy tale and the calamity that is my life. And please excuse the swearing.