At the end of May, I started a new job. I did not want to. I liked my old one just fine, thank you. But on the day I learned Bumby had pneumonia, after a morning of urine and blood tests and chest x-rays, while talking to the inspector at my soon-to-be new house, my office called to tell me my boss had quit. And just like that, I was offered a job at the new firm and off I went.
There must be something about blogging that appeals to people with social anxiety, because approximately 100% of the bloggers I read have it. Also, the person who writes this blog has it. The new job and the new house and the sick baby, well, it was quite a lot, really. So I hunkered down and did my best, and then picked my head up with a start to realize one day that it had been nearly six months since I had socially interacted with anyone outside my family during the daytime hours.
At my old job, I had friends. I had people I knew by virtue of billing 110 hours a week with them while 8 months pregnant, and people I knew because I was a woman and hadn’t quit yet and they wanted to know how I managed that. I had people I knew because I was sassy and they thought it was funny, and people I knew because I was sassy and they thought that meant I was smart.
At my new place, I know 2 people and one lives in Chicago. They are both men, and both my bosses. They are both very nice, but we talk mostly by email and not often about our personal lives (like almost never). I do not have friends, or even acquaintances. I don’t even like my secretary. No one even knows I am sassy. At my old place, a couple of peer-level women took me to lunch when I was new, and stopped by to walk me to the associates committee meeting with them. No one does that at my new place. So I go alone, and sit alone, or I don’t go at all because it’s too hard.
A lot of women I know like to work because they get their fix of “adult time” while they are at work. Today I said about 25 words out loud, for real. The whole day. It’s the loneliest place I have ever worked and I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t think it’s like this for everyone. Other people who have been there longer or work full time seem to have “integrated,” but I just can’t. I don’t know why.
There is a work social event on Thursday night. It’s a women’s poker party. I should go and meet people. I like poker and wine. But I am terrified to walk in alone. Where will I sit? Who will I talk to? Whose fake money will I take?
At the same time as all of this, I met a lesbian mom at Bumby’s music class. She asked me out on a play date to the playground. She drives a Subaru and her wife is also a lawyer. I love her for being the first non-family adult I spoke to during the day since I can remember. I love her for taking the bold step of asking me to hang out. It makes me want to be a SAHM just to avoid the horribleness that is my male-dominated, antisocial workplace.
So all of these things make it so hard to get up, put on my heels, and go to the office. But I do, because I do. I want Bumby to know that Mama works and is good at her job. I want other women to know that you can love your son desperately and also be kickass at being a lawyer. I want myself to know that I can do this and be ok. I want my girls to know that you can cobble together a life that makes you happy, as a professional and as a mom. But fucking hell if it isn’t hard sometimes.