Isolation, Overwork, and Crying in a McDonald's
Or, the turning point in which I realized I was acting from a place of not feeling enough.
My first year living in the U.S. led me to drive to a McDonald’s in the middle of nowhere, getting a hot chocolate and Happy Meal (I got the McNuggets if you must know), sitting in the back corner near the PlayPlace area, and crying my eyes out for an hour.
What I did learn, though, was that something had to change, and I was the problem.
When my husband and I made the decision to move back to North America (I grew up in Canada, he was born in the U.S.), I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do as I made the transition into getting my Green Card. For one, my teaching certification wasn’t exactly transferable to the U.S. — and if it was I would have to submit a bunch of paperwork and I was already overwhelmed at an overseas move.
At the time, I was writing on the side for various educational companies, and the occasional post about finances. So, I thought, why not keep doing that while I figure out all the immigration stuff and the general errands one needs to do when transitioning to a new country? This hobby I got paid for was pulling a decent income per month. Not enough to completely replace my current salary, but I convinced myself that if I could spend more time on it I would be able to.
Several months later, right after I told my boss I wasn’t going to renew my contract, two of my regular clients no longer needed my services.
Dearests, if you’re on Substack and like what you’re reading on Searching For Enough please consider recommending this publication. Your readers can come to a safe space where in a world asking you to strive for more, I help them champion for living life on their own terms by listening to and acting on your inner voice.
I didn’t respond well to the news.
Yes, I had savings.
Yes. my husband had lined up a job in the U.S.
But the fact that I couldn’t make enough money to pay the rent sent me in a spiral. I thought I was going to have to work at a family restaurant singing birthday songs for the rest of my life.
And panic I did. I decided that I had to track every single penny that we would spend in the U.S. I would watch my then one year old instead of getting a sitter. I was gonna do everything myself, because if I didn’t earn “enough” then I didn’t deserve to spend the money, even if it was going to benefit me mentally and emotionally.
Back to McDonald’s.
The incident came about months after landing in the U.S., with what I realized was a brewing storm, which I lovingly call “The Trifecta.”
I transitioned from teaching into a new career (freelance writing).
I was a first-time mother and had no idea what I was doing (I still don’t).
I moved to a new country and in a small town where I knew nobody.
Each one by itself was hard enough. But all three at the same time? Pure madness. I remember the one time I spoke about this on a podcast interview and the interviewer’s eyes bugged out.
Because I was freaking out about paying the rent (we were fine), I spent 12 hours a day writing and pitching clients. In-between I was looking after my son who was going through all sorts of changes (he was teething for one, and parents and caregivers, I’m sure you know what I’ve experienced). Then I would read blogs or listen to the radio for some sort of “social interaction.”
I didn’t know many people who were also freelancing, especially with young kids. I was stuck in my head. All I could do was try my best to stay awake, keep the kiddo fed and alive, and write emails and projects like my life depended on it.
On a random Tuesday after my husband had tidied up the apartment a bit, he went to work. We were both exhausted because our son barely slept all night from the teething (poor little dude). I had two articles due that day, and had a list of prospects I wanted to reach out to.
My husband came home around 4pm and found the house in a total disaster. It was as if a tornado had come through and hurtled every item that wasn’t appliances all over the house. My son’s little table he used to draw was flipped over, as were several dining chairs — it looked like some stereotypical bratty rock star decided to throw a tantrum.
I was in the bathroom bawling my eyes out. I was also in there with my laptop, frantically emailing my editor. I wasn't going to be able to submit my two articles that day. Between my son screaming at me, trying to feed him, t
rying to walk away (as much as I could anyway from an infant) to calm down, the house ended up the way it did.
He calmly told me that I probably needed a break, and my husband picked up the kiddo and held him on the couch. I wiped my tears as best as I could, changed out of the food-stained sweats and drove to the nearest place, which happened to be McDonald’s
I’d love to say I had this massive epiphany but I’d be lying. I’d like to say it was a turning point for some of the changes I would make later on to liberate my mental health challenges, but changes are not so linear.
What I did learn sitting at McDonald’s, though, was that I was the problem because I believed that I didn’t deserve help. That the money my husband and I had to save to make this transition wasn’t enough. So this fear led me to making choices that ultimately led me to the verge of burnout.
I did, though, reach out to some random people on social media to ask about what challenges they’ve faced while freelancing, and that was what gave me the push to find part-time childcare. The extra time gave me time to nap and feel less stressed when emailing clients and doing client work (yes, it made a world of difference).
Reaching out led to some interesting opportunities, like being able to speak on the main stage of a conference with a CNBC reporter about money. Don’t ask me what I said. I only remember walking on the stage, holding the mic, and walking down the stairs and into my seat.
I wish it didn’t take me crying in a McDonald’s to understand that taking care of my needs is important, and that it was ok to rely on the resources I’ve built up for myself. What I will say is the continual self reflection, the constant asking questions of what I really wanted in my life came from that incident. Though I’m not perfect, I have managed to create a lot more space for myself. And in turn, not only has it benefited me, but those around me.
Let me know in the comments: What is one thing you’re going to do today to take care of yourself?
Sometimes we don't know we're holding the shovel, digging a hole as fast as we can, and putting ourselves in it. So, sometimes, someone else has to convince us to put the burden down. Spiraling is so easy. I don't know why. I've been known to circle the drain from time to time.
The good news is you were able to distance yourself and write about it, try to understand it, and make your peace with a damn hard time in your life.