Everyday is labor day for most women. At times being a she is a life sentence at hard labor.
It fatigues me just thinking about it.
For some of you, divorce spells relief. It was you taking care of the family and the household. One less egg to fry, one less person to have to pick up after is music to your ears.
A lot of my friends, who worked crazy hours while married, were still expected to take on the duties of a stay-at-home wife and mother. One day ran into the other as they tried to be all things to everybody.
Labor is not new to most of you. We of the post-feminist generation were taught to be all we could be. Securing a college degree and a successful career were priority number one. You might be a child of and divorce and witnessed the financial devastation that came in its aftermath and vowed that would never happen to you.
No matter what happened, you’d be able to take care of yourself.
If you never left the work force during your marriage or were fortunate enough to have divorced a man with a fortune, then you are among the lucky few. For the rest of us, especially those who never worked outside the home or have been out of the job market so long that our old wardrobe is now retro-chic, it maybe time to get back into the workforce.
I won’t scare you with horror stories of the divorced and destitute. This topic is a lock on the morning shows and cable.
Most advice is common sense when it comes to finance. You are now the CFO of you and the simple rule of any successful business is supply and demand. You’ve already demanded and were supplied with all you’re going to get out of your divorce (alimony, child support, the house, etc.) Or you are in the camp that demanded and were supplied with nothing.
As I stated earlier, if you already have a fabulous career, more than likely you’re in the financial clear. If you’re childless, or your children are grown, you too may not experience the financial freak out.
If your husband left you fully loaded, then you can travel around the world figuring out what went wrong while you bask under the Mediterranean sun being lathered down by a bronze cabana boy. You basically followed Ivana Trump’s motto: You didn’t get mad you got everything. Bravo!