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Happy birthday

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I don't expect any member of the working poor to cry for me. I'm a white collar worker with a job that pays better than minimum wage, with a reliable schedule, with paid sick leave and vacation, with the ability to leave early for school conferences when necessary, with a job that isn't physically demanding and still leaves me some number of evenings and weekends to run a microbusiness. I have parents and family members who can (and do) help me instead of the other way around.
In comparison to the millions of people in this country who are being crushed by our Dickensian society, I'm lucky. I'm trying to temper my self-pity today by reminding myself of that. But then I think: that says more about the current state of society than about my sense of claustrophobia. 

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I haven't grown up. I don't mean that as some kind of humble brag, the way people do. I mean I feel the deep and burning resentment of youth at not having three months of summer vacation. At some point into adulthood that feeling has to subside. Eventually my mind has to adapt and resign itself to the reality of the endless professional grind of adulthood. 

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We have a volunteer at the office who was born into significant wealth and hasn't really worked since his 30s, and then only sporadically. He volunteers because he likes being involved with a cause, which is cute and fine and noble, I guess, but I can't relate nor sympathize. He's never been financially responsible for a family of four knowing that if he quits his job and can't find another that they all lose their home and have to uproot and squeeze in with extended family. He chooses to be here and he can leave at any time.

What would I do with that kind of real freedom? Not this. I would cuddle my children, take them swimming and biking and hiking, I would work on art projects and write articles, I would travel and learn new things. I would have the freedom to think, really think, about whatever I wanted to instead of whoring out my only marketable good and prized possession, my brain -- literally turning over control about what I think about to an employer. I would stop commuting every morning, stop suffering a boss, stop following all of the arbitrary rules that apply to the middle and working classes but not to the wealthy. 
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Happy birthday. Only three decades left till retirement.
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