As time went on I came to know that it did not matter what I wanted to become. It mattered more how I wanted to feel. And every since my late 30's I have been chasing my feelings. Trying really hard at times to keep up with my feelings. I needed to feel at all times that I was doing something that made a difference. That was my filter when deciding between one job and another. How did it make me feel?. I turned down one job that paid a whole lot of money. I would have been marketing beer. Not for me. Another time, and again for a lot of money, I quit a job. This time because it involved marketing cigarettes. In both cases, I yielded to my feelings.
Like a lot of women, I choose to work. I don't really have to work. I choose to work because it fills me up. It completes me. It makes me in fact a better person at home. Each day I walk out that door I feel like I am leaving a part of me out there in a way that really matters inside me.
I don't judge in any fashion moms who stay at home. In a very big way I envy their committment, even their ability to do one very important thing extremely well. I can't. I know I can't. I starve for the attention and accolades the outside world brings me because of the work I do. I get my oxygen, my fix from completing a project on time, from seeing the look in other's eyes when a black female entrepreneur walks in the boardroom. I like that my kids see me making such a big difference among men.
So I leave home over and over again. There are times I have missed some pretty big events back home because of work. Those days I cried into a hotel pillow like any self-respecting momma CEO should.
My relief comes in knowing I have the full support of those I leave behind. We know we are no good without each other. And at times we will leave home only to return again.