Kids Never See Me as Unemployed

Once more, I have to give props to kids for their perspectives about life. Yes, there are places where their inexperience or optimism or even open-mindedness may seem naive, but it also helps you shed some of those crusty edges-- the misery we mask as practical or responsible, the way we judge ourselves so harshly.

I've said before-- I hate the humble brag. Yet the other day, I was caught doing it. When asked what my job is I reverted back to saying that my last employer was Petco, but now I'm an artist (and author, duh, but it was my friend Erika that chimed in on that for me). It wasn't a conscious attempt to humble brag but, damn it, that's exactly what it sounded like and one that downplayed a DREAM. Not just a job, not even a reliable career, but a dream that I'm actively pursuing. And yes- it's still in its infancy, still feels surreal. Hell, when someone remembers that I have fibromyalgia (among other things), I almost forget that sometimes myself. Not because I'm not in pain, but because I'm used to defending myself as being 'fine' and my threshold for pain is something I've just grown so used to, it's not something I give any thought to. It just is. Like how kids can put zero thought into the transition between running and jumping on a bicycle and pedaling.

I can't say for certain why I felt so apologetic instead of proud. I work 8-14 hour days on my work. I was actually embarrassed that I had responded with so little enthusiasm-- at least until my friend's son Billy (wait, I think we call him Will now, but I am bad enough with learning one variation so that might take a few tries) was genuinely impressed. I don't mean just with a 'wow' but that instant lift of eyebrows and sudden lean towards you that isn't faked interest. No 'why don't you have a REAL job' or 'yeah, but what ELSE do you do?'

Perhaps a lot of adults forget their dreams or give up on them. Some actually resent people who take different risks and prioritize different sacrifices. Something about society made them believe that anything you wanted prior to age 30 was childish and impossible. Kids (and my very wonderful friends and family) just know me. Long-time friends and family know what I went through to gain that courage, what sacrifices I make to balance my priorities, and so on. Kids, well, they don't know the grittiest parts but they are still capable of understanding something that adults gloss over. 

For kids, dreams are stars, way up high, and know that up through the unknown is scary, unpredictable, but thrilling. For a great deal of adults, dreams are still stars. The nearest one is the Sun, the others impossibly far, and you'd burn up before you ever got there. So maybe a dream does start out as impractical. That we start to learn our expectations are unlikely, unrealistic, and many decide it's not worth it. My dream may have had its infancy, but when I collided with disappointment, doubt, and fear, I readjusted my attitude.

And I get this much; much of the responsibilities we chose to take on, thinking it was just what adults do (kids, marriage, jobs) gave us new priorities. I spent a good 15 years in short-lived jobs, battling my health issues, never understanding why adulting just wasn't panning out. My life, like so many others, wasn't according to plan. I never made enough money to have my own place, never kept a job long enough to do so, jumped in and out of hospitals, lost so many people. I didn't want marriage or kids, but I took on raising my nephews without a second thought. After gaining my second degree in graphic design, I wanted to find a job as a graphic designer, but I never learned how to drive and zero offers were reachable by public transit. Plus, my hours had to fit into when the kids were in school. I couldn't physically work as a cashier anymore. I tried sell handcrafts but I got tired of people undervaluing my work.

Writing started to fill those anxious hours where nothing seemed to fit right. And kids, kids are always the ones that can be completely ignorant of that last paragraph and simply think it's exciting that I didn't just write-- I drew, I formatted, I published. Tons of people write but, as I've said before, everyone 'has ideas' or 'is writing a book'. Some people even publish then get discouraged when they aren't a smash hit and it ends there. Kids see the results and marvel at them. Even without experience to make them jaded, they know it's no small feat. They don't need time or trials to understand insecurity and not finishing what you start. 

You can grumble about kids these days all you want. There have always been hormonal, entitled, reckless, unstable kids, but more often than not, I see kids who make me hopeful for the future. Many of them do more than access social media to bully or gossip-- they're smart and aware and struggling with a world very different from ours at their age. My parents was before the technological boom, mine was on the cusp, these kids are in the thick of this explosion of information and chaos. None of us really get each other and I'm tired of the pissing contest on who had it worse; you really can't compare the sum of anyone's experiences that simply. Still, I see people giving up on these kids before they've even gotten started. They certainly don't whine or procrastinate any more than adults and beneath the teenage bravado, they're scared of what the future might hold too. Youthful arrogance that they can do better might be overblown, but it's like revving your engine before a race-- showy but it puts you in the mindset for the race and preps the vehicle.

I'm rather fond of kids that don't let a jaded world limit their perspective. Whether we completely 'get' each other or not is of no consequence. For someone to be able to assess the value of your contribution without asking you to justify it is the most wonderful, reaffirming experience. So I'll work at it. Someday, I won't revert to the stupid impulse to apologize for working hard to chase a dream. I may need a few brilliant reminders from the most amazing people I know. They don't always know how amazing they are, but that's what I'm here for.

We raise this village. Not one busted cog in the bunch.