I love your brain

I seem to reinvent my career every so often. It’s not so much a conscious decision to do so but circumstances in my life seem to find me in different roles periodically.

I started my working life as hairdresser, which quickly evolved into my teaching beauty school because my family owned a small chain of cosmetology schools. Besides teaching, I learned a lot about running the schools and managing as well. I even helped to develop and launch an inter-school hair show, complete with product vendors, demonstrations from industry leaders, and a student styling contest aptly named Style ’88. When my family sold the schools, I too left the business. I started cutting hair when I was in high school and by the time I was in my late twenties, I became burnt out.

Unsure of what I wanted to do next, I accepted a job opportunity from a family friend who’s law firm was overseeing an entertainment company and sort of fell into my next chapter. I started as the receptionist at a small international film distribution company and quickly moved to another company, assisting the president of sales. I was then given the opportunity to handle sales in some of the smaller international territories, and my career in international film distribution took off. An actual career was born. I traveled to places like Cannes, London, Milan, and Budapest on an annual basis for film markets and festivals and enjoyed studying the film culture in the various countries where I handled sales. It was an interesting career for quite a long time.

When Cole was born I was running the international division of a distribution and production company. I had not intended to become a stay at home mom but the circumstances of his birth, and the reality of his life, kept me home. We spent the early years doing every and any early intervention available. Besides the barrage of therapies, we went to an inclusive co-op infant toddler program, moving then to the inclusive pre-school. We did acupuncture, massage, and aquatic therapy. We started hippo therapy (equestrian, not hippopotamus). I spent seven years home with him, learning to be his mom, his advocate, his therapist, his caregiver.

Eventually, however, he didn’t need me in the same way. He embraced every ounce of independence he could find. He started staying in the aftercare program at school, taking enrichment classes, playing with friends, and doing homework. He wanted to stay at school until they threw him out. So I started consulting here and there at first and eventually found myself in a full time job in the same international distribution arena but now doing contracts and financing instead of sales. I was able to have some flexibility in my schedule and no travel. Perfect for my family life.

Many years and two merges later I’m still fortunate to be working doing contacts, financing and more. I like to joke that I’m a lawyer by day (sans the law degree of course). Most people who do what I do are in fact lawyers but there are a handful of us in this business that are laymen with a decent grasp of the legalese. It’s challenging and familiar at the same time. I work with a group of people I really enjoy, and I have some flexibility. I’m in a good place. But that restless feeling that I wrote about a couple of days ago is seeping into all aspects of my brain. What’s next for me?

The whole high school search trauma (also from previous post) has me seriously contemplating climbing up on a soap box to challenge local, state, and federal education boards and governments to do better for kids with disabilities.  We’re doing them great disservice.

I’m inspired by Malala’s stance. Cole and I are reading her biography and it’s hard not to draw some similarities in her fight for education for girls and the need for people to advocate for children with disabilities to have been educational opportunities. Her battle had dangers and implications with higher consequences but the idea that everyone, every child, deserves the right tot quality education holds true no matter who, where or what the child.

If only activism could draw a salary…