Forty-two….

Forty-fucking-two….

Forty-two and going through empty nest syndrome. My twenty-one-year-old son was in Europe backpacking to, as he said in his own words, ‘Find himself’. While my eighteen-year-old daughter recently graduated from high school and having received a full scholarship to Berkeley, had moved clear across the country to California to attend school there.

Forty-two and single.

Forty-two and alone.

Forty-two and feeling like a teenager: insecure and wanting.

Forty-two and the last things to pleasure me were toys and sadly, craving a deep fucking, a very lengthy cucumber.

Forty-two and I had not been with a man intimately in over five years…not since my husband Alan died in a car accident (yes, I dated a few men, some even good guys, but I always compared them to my deceased husband and always felt I was betraying his memory by bringing a man home to meet my children or sleeping with them).

Forty-two and lost. In retrospect, I was the poster woman for stay-at-home moms. I was heavily involved with my children’s lives and in many ways lived vicariously through them (especially after Alan passed). I was a chauffeur, I was a cook, I was a party planner, I was a shoulder to cry on, I was a parent volunteer and I eventually was PTA Chair. So when all those duties, all those roles disappeared, I really didn’t know what to do. My life was my children and now that my life was my own I had no idea what to do.

Forty-two and broke. The money from Alan’s life insurance policy kept us ok for awhile, the house is paid for and so forth, but the extra money was gone and I needed a job, something I had never had before (Alan believed in being the man of the house and I the stay at home housewife).

Forty-two and qualified to do everything and nothing.

Forty-two…

…..

What I learned after a month of job searching was I was qualified for absolutely nothing. Apparently over twenty years of raising children did not count as experience on a resume and even though I had planned a plethora of big events (graduation, family carnivals and an abundance of fundraisers), the job market didn’t care. Although I had many transferable skills, prospective employers didn’t see parenting as equivalent to, as they called it, ‘real life’ experience. ………………..Continue Reading This Story On The Next Page ………….Go Below This Page CLICK>>>>2