Everytime International Women's Day comes around, I get depressed.
That's because when I was a girl, I wanted to have a successful career, to do something, to be somebody.
Fifty years later, I'm broke and underemployed.
That's because I decided to take a break from my career and have children. Then my husband left me, and the rest is history.
Gloria Steinem would not be impressed.
I fought back, but life as a single mother is a jail sentence. When I was married, I had a great house. When I became single, I couldn't get a mortgage because most of my income came from child support. I was still paying the mortgage on time but the bank didn't care -- it just wouldn't renew my mortgage.
As a result, I went from being a homeowner to a renter.
I had to work part-time because I had three young children to look after and an ex-husband who was too busy making millions to spend anytime with his kids.
I lost everything just trying to keep heart and soul together.
And unless I get very lucky, I'm looking forward to a future living in poverty.
The kids are up and grown but employers think I'm too old and not bilingual enough to hire. I have trouble working as a freelance writer because everyone now expects writers to write to free.
So I still work part-time which barely pays the bills.
My life is quieter but it's gotten a whole lot worse.
I have high blood pressure from the stress of holding everything together personally while still helping the kids even though they're grown.
My dog just died.
I have two who will die from old age in the next few years.
Fortunately, I am lucky to have love in my life and a wonderful man who goes out to work every day to keep us afloat.
So that's something.
But I keep thinking about my mother. How she raised us kids through her widowhood. How I always vowed I'd never be like her. Alone. In poverty. Sick at the end of days.
Whoever thought about creating International Women's Day to celebrate how far we've come can just get stuffed as far as I'm concerned.
Talk to the hand.
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