My nerves are totally shot!
We went to my son’s school tonight (by the time this goes up it’ll have tomorrow’s date, but whatever) for a mandatory [Mascot] “camp”.
And let me stop right there to ask: Since when is a two hour meeting and campus tour defined as a “camp”? It seems like everything kids do at school these days outside school hours is called “camp”. When I was a kid and someone said “camp”, it meant I’d better take my sleeping bag and some insect repellent.
There appears to be some confusion about the intent of my recent post, Victims Wanted, and I would like to try and clarify a few things.
First I would like to call your attention to the opening paragraph:
[…] in pondering the unrelenting claim by Feministe bloggers and readers that asking why victims and survivors of domestic violence stay is always victim-blaming, a few other why? questions occurred to me and I had to get them out of my head and on the page:
You see, Victims Wanted is really just a brainstorm that I wrote in a state of bewilderment over the unwillingness of certain feminists to even consider a perspective that doesn’t line up with most everyone else’s. But it seems the questions that were spinning around in my head that day have been mistaken for assertions and/or conclusions. So I would like to try and make a few clarifications:
This has been an incredibly stressful day. I’m honestly surprised that I didn’t collapse half way through it. The good news is that it gave me some good blogging material. The only problem is that I am so drained from it all, I can’t possibly write coherently tonight. So I thought I’d write about how I can’t write about it, and write about it when I can. Yeah…
So I’ve been working at this place for about four months, and things have been getting tenser by the day. Not just because of the stressful office environment, but also because of my home situation.
I had been a stay-home mom for about nine years before I took this job out of necessity. I was torn between needing to provide for my son, and my desire to be available for him emotionally and physically. Four months in, we were feeling the effects, and they weren’t good for either of us.
I decided to resign and find work that would accommodate my son’s school schedule. There just didn’t seem to be any other option.