The Secretary Said This, and I Knew I Had to Quit that Job

I was so lucky to have that job.

I knew it. I was grateful for it. It was the first time since my husband was killed, that I felt like I had a real purpose again. I was excited to be able to help veterans and their dependents tap into VA and government benefits they’d all earned.

There was one time, for instance, that a veteran I worked with for two years, through a denial and an appeal, before his claim was approved. I almost fell off my char when I logged into the system that day, to check on the claim’s status, and saw all those zeroes in there. After years of perseverance, we’d done it. His claim had been approved. The VA had deposited years’ of backpay in his account- and he didn’t know yet.

I got to call him with the news. I can still hear him and his wife’s shocked voices, feel the tears through the phone. That day, they knew they would not lose their home. That day, they knew they’s be able to buy groceries, and presents for their grandkids. That day, I knew I’d played a role in something important.

But most other days, it was not like that.

Forget about the part where the office was located in the same cemetery my husband is buried in. Overlook the way I had to hear TAPS playing several times a week, and learn how to barricade all the trauma those things brought forth within me.

That was bad enough. But there was also the part where my four kids, young teenagers and pre teens, were stuck home alone all summer while their friends and cousins vacationed with their families, took day trips, hungout with each other, and did all the things my kids couldn’t. Sometimes I’d come home to mayhem, because my kids friends got dropped of while I wasn’t there. I couldn’t even be mad at the chaos. My kids deserved some of that.

I will also never forget the day I arrived home 30 minutes late, because I stopped for groceries. There, at the top of the driveway, in the chilly pre-dusk air, sat my youngest, wrapped in a blanket, tears streaming down his face, waiting for me to get back and worried I was late.

The full time hours were not a good blend with my status not as a single mom, but a widowed mom, with no help, no backup for my kids, no one else there every day to play with them, lead them, hug them.

It was brutal. But I had bills to pay.

That job not only gave me a purpose, it helped pay the bills.

Just.

I could pay the mortgage and car payments. But although it was a helpful salary, it was still very small. As my own survivor benefits dwindled more and more, I realized the gap was still too large. I was going to have to find a way to make more money.

So that was one issue with my job. The other was that.. I hated it. I hated not owning my own time. I hated the politics. I hated the cemetery, and the office drama.

I was dating the man who I eventually married. The relationship was very new back then, but he was already introducing me to a world full of people just like me- who didn’t fit into the conventional work force most people settle into and appreciate. People who said ** it and went all in on their own pursuits - and succeeded.

It was like a curtain had been pulled back and a whole new world revealed to me. My boyfriend offered me the option of joining forces with him to launch a podcast and build a business.

I debated for months, until one day I heard the secretary talking to one of my vets on the phone: “Oh, Barbara is booked for hte next couple weeks. Her schedule is full every day. But I have an opening on this date, three Tuesdays from now, at 10 am.

And my next three weeks flashed before me. I pictured myself doing the same thing, in the same office, in the same chair behind the same desk, and knew that three weeks from then I’d be sitting right there. I knew my kids would be home alone after school, that I’d be falling asleep in their band concerts, crying on my way to work, choking back nausea hearing TAPS play, and dealing with the same politics and office drama.

I knew I wanted to be doing anything else, three weeks from then, on Tuesday at 10 am. And every Tuesday after that.

So I made the decision to take that leap, and I left that job.

I felt guilty, knowing people had moved mountains to help me get that job. I felt reckless, knowing I had to figure out a new income and knowing I burned a bridge.

But I also felt.. alive.

I felt hopeful. I felt grateful to my boyfriend for giving me the chance to be with my kids again, and to build a new dream with him.

That was about ten years ago. It has not been an easy road. we have had breathtaking highs and soul crushing lows. We have struggled. We have soared. And everything in between.

I am still far from my own goals, professionally speaking. But the life I have been able to experience these past ten years - the sunrises I got to soak up, the breakfasts I got to make for my kids, the hikes with them, the sick days I was there for, the people I;ve met, the confidence and humility I’ve gained… priceless.

And sometimes, when I realize it’s 10 am on a Tuesday, I think back to the choices I’ve made.

Where are you this Tuesday, at 10 am? Where will you be next Tuesday? Wherever that may be, I hope it is somewhere, doing something, that makes you feel alive:)