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home about about kathleen contact felix’s story becoming peculiar adventures in a backwards kingdom sometimes i feel sad that i don’t make any money. august 13, 2018 by kathleen quiring 15 comments i’m doing something different today: i just opened up my laptop and wrote what was on my mind, and am publishing it with minimal editing. even though i recently said i prefer works that are heavily edited. hey, it’s my blog, i can break my own rules. sometimes it feels good to just share my feelings, knowing that some of you will be able to relate. i’m not asking for sympathy or advice or — heaven forbid — money. i just felt like being honest about my feelings. this morning i woke up sad that i don’t make any money. it doesn’t happen often. i understand how i got here, and it’s largely by choice. i chose to get a degree in the humanities, knowing full well that it wouldn’t make me marketable. i chose to stay home with my kids and to educate them myself. i chose to nurture skills that aren’t traditionally profitable: cooking, homemaking, writing, painting, fiber arts. i recently added to my instagram profile description — with a tiny hint of pride — “maker of zero dollars.” in fact, i’ve spent most of my adult life actively resisting a capitalist-centered life, favouring self-sufficiency and time with family over earning an income. i would rather learn to diy everything than work at a job to pay for those same things. “our home is a unit of production, not consumption!” my husband and i routinely remind ourselves. and for the most part, i’m happy with my life choices. i believe that my work is meaningful and important. i don’t feel especially deprived most of the time: on my husband’s small income, we can afford to cover all our basic needs, plus a little extra to cover my hobbies (i.e. blogging, painting and knitting), the occasional dinner out, and clothes that i feel good in. so it’s not that i wish i had more money — not really. i just sometimes crave the validation that an income would provide. sometimes i long for the knowledge that someone out there values my labour enough to want to give me money for it. possibly even — and this is totally wild — a living wage . like, i can’t even fathom the thought of someone wanting to give me enough money that we were officially living above the poverty line. how luxurious that seems! can you imagine walking around, knowing that your skills, time, and effort are worth actual money ? like, that your labour is so coveted that an employer or a client would be willing to part with actual cash in exchange for it? man. what a dream. i can hardly even picture it. and i know some people get to experience that feeling, and sometimes i feel just a little bit resentful. at my last three jobs, i was paid minimum wage, and even then i felt like a burden on my employers. like i was barely worth the amount of money they were dishing out. like they’d replace me in a heartbeat if they could just find someone else willing to drive out to their remote location and do the work. i have been working so hard my entire life. i worked so hard to get straight a’s in high school while working on weekends to support my family. i worked so hard to get straight a’s in university while paying for my own tuition plus room and board. i worked so hard at my first minimum-wage jobs. and i have worked harder than ever , around the clock, as a mother. i don’t feel like i’ve had adequate leisure time since i was in elementary school. and sometimes i just can’t believe that all this hard work has not resulted in any kind of capital. i am 33 years old with a master’s degree and i can’t even imagine what it must feel like to make enough money to pay for my own root canal. i bet a lot of you can relate, especially if you are a millennial mother or an artist. it is hard to find someone willing to pay us for our work. we are expected to provide so much of our labour for free. i’m not even sure i want any other life. but in a capitalist society, where our value comes from how much we earn and spend, sometimes it just feels sucky to not make any money. related: a few years ago i wrote about post entitled, “ i am rich ,” about how my family is rich in other resources. welcome to becoming peculiar! if you're new here, you may want to subscribe to my rss feed . thanks for visiting! filed under: simple living i think i want to be a disability advocate (but i have a lot of work to do) august 6, 2018 by kathleen quiring 17 comments photo by josh appel on unsplash (trigger warning: i express some really ableist shit early on. it embodies previous attitudes that i’m working to dismantle.) as longtime readers know, i don’t get pregnant easily. so when we were ready to start having kids, i had months ( and months and months ) to think about what i did and didn’t want in life. i begged god to give me children. but i always had one caveat: but please don’t give me a disabled child. if i’m going to get a disabled child, i’d rather just stay childless. i was thinking of autism in particular, because my husband has autistic relatives; but i objected to any really serious disability. i didn’t fully realize just how horrifically ableist i was. my first child was born 29 months later, perfectly healthy. i was able to be the hippie mom i’d dreamed of being: i breastfed, i co-slept, i baby-wore. motherhood was everything i hoped it would be and more. it took another 19 months of trying to get pregnant with my second. my prayer was the same throughout: just let me have another healthy and normal child. as you also know, things did not go as planned the second time around. not only was my second child quickly diagnosed with a life-threatening disease that had him hospitalized for most of his first year, but he showed signs early on of having developmental disabilities. he was late to hold up his head. late to smile. very late to roll over. very very late to sit up on his own. not only was i in constant anxiety about his health in his first year, i was in agony over the thought of having to mother a disabled child. i hoped and prayed that he would eventually catch up with his peers. maybe it was just the extended hospitalization and isolation that was holding him back. i researched and hoped and prayed that we could find a treatment. maybe with the right diet and therapies, we could fix him. at the very least, i hoped that his disabilities would turn out to be “mild” — maybe he’d learn things a little slower than his peers, but he’d basically be able to live a “normal” life — he’d still be able to make same-aged friends, take swimming lessons, learn to ride a bike, etc. but as he got older, his delays only became more and more pronounced. he slipped further and further and further behind his peers. the day he turned three, i wept. we didn’t even throw him a birthday party. the truth was now completely undeniable. at three years old he was still nowhere near walking; he showed no evidence of understanding speech (much less being able to speak); and he still relied primarily on infant formula for nourishment. he was never going to be “normal.” the thing i had most dreaded had become my reality. i knew even then that my thoughts and feelings were horrible. i vaguely understood that my attitude betrayed some very deep and hideous ableism. i didn’t value a disabled child the same way i valued an abled child. i knew i had a lot of work to do to become the mother that my son deserved. but that shit is hard, and i was so tired. i had already lived through the trial of keeping him alive through scid. now i had to begin a whole new journey of learning how to parent a disabled child? i felt like i just couldn’t get a break. again: i did not realize how incredibly ableist i was. ::: i had always resisted the idea of being a disability advocate. i realize that it took an incredible amount of privilege and entitlement to be able to avoid it. disabled people obviously don’t have that luxury. i

URL analysis for becomingpeculiar.com

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http://becomingpeculiar.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/08/felix-happy.jpg
http://becomingpeculiar.com/category/creation-care/
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http://becomingpeculiar.com/#wrap
http://becomingpeculiar.com/disability-advocate/
http://becomingpeculiar.com/a-very-quick-thanks/#comments
http://becomingpeculiar.com/category/community/
http://becomingpeculiar.com/category/updates-on-felix/

Whois Information

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Domain Name: BECOMINGPECULIAR.COM
Registry Domain ID: 1684538072_DOMAIN_COM-VRSN
Registrar WHOIS Server: whois.namecheap.com
Registrar URL: http://www.namecheap.com
Updated Date: 2018-09-30T18:56:25Z
Creation Date: 2011-10-28T17:24:49Z
Registry Expiry Date: 2022-10-28T17:24:49Z
Registrar: NameCheap, Inc.
Registrar IANA ID: 1068
Registrar Abuse Contact Email: [email protected]
Registrar Abuse Contact Phone: +1.6613102107
Domain Status: clientTransferProhibited https://icann.org/epp#clientTransferProhibited
Name Server: DNS1.NAMECHEAPHOSTING.COM
Name Server: DNS2.NAMECHEAPHOSTING.COM
DNSSEC: unsigned
URL of the ICANN Whois Inaccuracy Complaint Form: https://www.icann.org/wicf/
>>> Last update of whois database: 2018-12-09T01:37:30Z <<<

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  REGISTRAR NameCheap, Inc.

SERVERS

  SERVER com.whois-servers.net

  ARGS domain =becomingpeculiar.com

  PORT 43

  TYPE domain

DOMAIN

  NAME becomingpeculiar.com

  CHANGED 2018-09-30

  CREATED 2011-10-28

STATUS
clientTransferProhibited https://icann.org/epp#clientTransferProhibited

NSERVER

  DNS1.NAMECHEAPHOSTING.COM 216.87.155.33

  DNS2.NAMECHEAPHOSTING.COM 216.87.152.33

  REGISTERED yes

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