The Final Taboo - She Who Earns No Money
Last Thursday morning, the family What’sApp group started pinging with messages from Lucy, sixteen years old, GCSE level, no formal qualifications, no idea what she wants to do for a living, socialite, makes no contribution to the household finances, best Deliveroo customer in East Belfast, empties the bins under duress.
“Dad, my careers teacher was wondering if you could talk to our class about your job”.
“She got very excited when I said you worked for …”
“She said about zooming in or doing a video”.
“What about next Thursday morning?”
By this stage, my eyes were rolling round in their sockets. I jumped in quickly. It was after all a public space. “Is she interested in me, Lucy?” I typed.
The conversation that didn’t include me continued.
“Dad, can I give her your number? She’s thinking the whole of fifth year could come. We could do it in the hall”.
“It would be a speech or an interview”.
I sighed. Soon every member of staff would be attending this inspirational event. The fandom was nauseating.
She was still overly enthused when she came home from school. “Where’s Dad?” she asked, as if I was hiding him and he wouldn’t be anywhere other than where he normally is, behind a screen, doing something important. I checked again - was Mrs X interested in me? I would be available next Thursday morning, or any morning, most afternoons as well. She looked at me, she opened her mouth, she didn’t miss a beat, “Why would she be interested in you? You don’t even earn any money”.
And there it was, boom - all of my fears about taking a career break realised by my own child. I did not earn money therefore I had no value.
I have written about the idols that hold us back, the ones we worship and cling on to because we are conditioned to believe our self-worth depends on them - identity, busyness, validation, comparison¹. I am learning to let these go. But I have avoided talking about the one idol that over-rides all of these - money.
It feels like I am breaking the final taboo here but if I don’t share honestly about this, I am misleading anyone who is re-evaluating their life choices and more importantly, I am misleading myself. All I ask is that you do not judge - money is an emotive subject, it takes courage to open up this conversation.
I now know there are two main challenges to leaving a career (whether temporarily or otherwise).
1. Physical survival - you can’t take an unpaid career gap unless you can afford to. If you have bills to pay and mouths to feed, upping and leaving is not feasible, no matter how much you hate your job. You need to be financially prepared.
2. Psychological survival - you have to accept you won’t have an income. You actually stop being paid. You need to be mentally prepared.
The first I understood and planned for, the second has completely floored me.
When I shared my decision to take a year out from August 2021, there were many different reactions. People were curious about my plans, what did I hope to achieve? (I still don’t know but I can confirm I have travelled many wandering paths in half a year and found most end up in the hedge). Perhaps some were curious about the money side of things but they didn’t usually ask how I would manage. It’s not good manners. I did get the odd probing comment. “Sure your husband has a decent job, you’ll be alright”. So what if he does, I thought, I don’t depend on him. He hasn’t made this possible. And I am most definitely not being paid by him.
I have unpicked myself from the inside-out as I have journeyed through the last six months, and having stepped out of the workplace for the first time in twenty-plus years (even longer if you count being a teenage Avon lady), all I really know for certain is that I miss earning my own money. My husband’s professional standing does not bring me self-esteem. “What’s mine is yours” just falls depressingly flat. The lack of seeing my input and contribution to this world rewarded via a salary into my own bank account (the one in my name only) has diminished my self-confidence more than anything else.
And the hardest bit - I am so ashamed to admit this. I am hugely disappointed with myself. I could have stayed where I was, gained an annual increment, kept crawling up the scale, added to my pension pot, regardless of how underdeveloped, underutilised and undervalued I felt. I could have starved my soul and still felt better about myself.
I’ve talked this over with fellow travellers. Is it because I had always enjoyed my financial independence? Is it less about money and more about freedom? I’ve found plenty of solidarity from stay-at-home mums who never felt their role was valued, who questioned every penny they spent on their children because it didn’t belong to them. There are others who made the tough decision to give up a career they excelled at because childcare costs negated any financial profit. There are some who wondered why they bothered, the stress far outweighed the benefits but working outside the home mattered. Lots of decisions have been made around money that have far-reaching consequences. Yet, we don’t talk about it. We really need to. Please don’t read this wrong. This is not about achieving financial success. I don’t want to make lots of money. Any minuscule amount would do. It goes so much deeper than that. It’s complicated. It’s about equality. It’s about self-worth.
I am approaching this crisis as best I can. Maybe something will materialise that allows me to generate some sort of minor income to supplement selling off my work wardrobe on eBay. In the meantime, the small tax rebate coming from my employer every month is my lifeline. I have money coming in.
“You do know that will come to an end in April,” my ever-wise husband reminded me before he headed out the door to inspire the next generation.
