It seems that the universe knows when I’m trying to plan some time with my kids and conspires against me. We’re mid-way into spring break now and I’ve had to work my way through the first half of it. This means the kids are warehoused in other areas of the house with their electronics. This is good news to them, but I hate it. They’re turning into kids that don’t want to leave the house and breathe fresh air. So for the next several days I’ve booked us a little getaway at a mountain resort. Of course this is when all the projects I have on hold, suddenly come in—all rush. So, I briefly contemplate cancelling yet another trip.
I quit my job last October. My brother was dying and they wanted me to work extra hours. With only a few weeks to live, the news hit me like a sledgehammer. I recently had cancelled a vacation to Sarasota with my kids for this job. It’s the kind of job where everyone else in the chain of command sits on their responsibilities, and I—as the last link in the creative chain—has to make up for lost time with little notice. I’ve left my groceries in the supermarket on more than one occasion when the “emergency” call came through. I’ve cancelled and worked my way through several planned vacations for this job as well. Every time thinking “What the fuck, this is marketing. We aren’t first responders!” But remembering how it felt to be on food stamps and suffering panic attacks every night when the ex first walked out and I had no money to pay the bills, I sucked it up and complied. I told myself to just be grateful that I’m still relevant as a Creative Director after so much time off to parent children.
But when I got the news that my brother had just a few weeks left, I couldn’t move. At first I tried to reason with them. No dice. They needed me on board for this RFP and detailed all the sacrifices other team members were making to get it out on time. So I resigned.
It turned out a “few weeks” was optimistic. My beloved brother was dead 11 days later. I was poor again, but I never regretted the time I spent with him and family. Just being free to grieve instead of stressed out over deadlines was something I desperately needed.
It put in perspective a lot of things. The cancelled vacations of my past – I regret them more than I realized. Regret is a real bitch. It doesn’t go away easily. And I, in particular, wear it on the outside, where my kids can see it.
So, not this time. I’ll let the kids have their electronics today and I’ll do my best to get as much done for my clients as possible. Tomorrow we head for the mountains. It’s only for a few days, but during those days, I won’t be regretting the deadlines that had to be pushed back.