Some of my earliest memories were dancing in the driveway with my neighbour-bestie. We would play Michael Jackson's Thriller album over and over while carefully choreographing dance moves for a video that would never be made. We would do this, weather permitting, until the street lights came on and it was too dark to see what we were doing.
These were the pre-internet days.
At school, I remember playing hopscotch, jumping rope and one of my favourite games, cards. We would have baseball or hockey cards and toss them strategically against a wall. If they landed on one or more of the other cards we got to keep those. We played until one person had all of the cards. I also fondly remember tossing a ball against the wall and catching it upon its return. When I got more skilled I used a tennis racket and played against myself. I always won.
Somewhere along the way we were told we were "adults;" that playing games was for children and that now we had to work that (often dreadful) job to make a living that would become our life — until we retired. If we made it that long.
Often I would drive to work singing "Everybody is working for the weekend..." on repeat. Workdays dragged on while weekends seemed to feel short. Saturdays were typically for cleaning, relaxing and catching up on things our work-week prevented us from completing. And Sundays. Those were for spending the day in dread knowing that in a few hours we were going to rinse, recycle and repeat our lives for another week.
This is of course assuming you worked Monday to Friday, day shift. Most of my years I did not. I worked in an industry that was 24/7. More times than not I had other days off mid-week when those I knew were working. This didn't help with having a social life when most of my friends were off weekends and having a weekend off in my industry were reserved for a privileged few who had been working there for decades or booked it off well in advance.
My shifts weren't days typically. Our "day" shift started at noon. Working 12-8 eradicated any hope of a social life. Mornings were spent getting ready, the whole day was spent working and then arriving home late left enough time to take a shower, maybe read a book and then go to bed. To make matters worse I had the beloved "work phone" which meant I could — and did — get calls at ungodly hours. Don't get me started about the night shifts. Most days, I didn't know if I was coming or going.
After nearly two decades I left the rigmarole — and the steady paycheque. Many people thought, and likely still do think, I was crazy. I'd be lying if I said I didn't second-guess — or triple-guess — myself many times. I mean why would anyone leave (relative) job security, benefits and a decent paycheque? Why?
Because I knew that if I continued down that path I would not see retirement. I also knew I was not living my truth.
Waking up to the monotony of it all; the colleagues who spent every day complaining about being denied holidays or not getting the shift they wanted, or not getting the promotion they applied for. The fact we had no windows and were surrounded by flashing fluorescent lights didn't help with much. When I could I would go outside on my inconsistent breaks to get fresh air and sun. My soul knew deep inside that this could not be my future.
I recall driving to work the weeks prior to my resignation thinking about the worst case scenario. What if I had to sell my home I spent time and money fixing up? What if I had to live in a tiny apartment with my son eating rice everyday? When I knew that we would be okay no matter what — and the idea of the worst case happening didn't scare me that much...I knew it was time for a change. I used to joke that if I was to become homeless I would have the most colourful, fanciest and well-designed box on the street. In my gut I knew this wouldn't happen.
The most important thing I knew was that I could not continue working shifts and days that took away from being a present mother to my son. Despite being tired often and having work calls interrupting my "off" days, I made it my mission to create a childhood for my son that he could look back on and fondly remember.
While he doesn't dance in the driveway, or play cards, he does like to go to wave pools, go mini-golfing and go to the movies. I like to also take him on adventures and we often go on road trips. Living where we do there are so many gorgeous nearby towns to explore. We are truly blessed.
Following a dream is not without its challenges. Being an "adult" is a social construct given to us when we turn a certain age. I for one do not want to be labeled an adult just because of my age.
And one thing is for sure, I do not need permission to play — and neither should you.
-Julie
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