My name is Mrs A and I’m an ex-banker.
To be precise, I’m an ex-stockbroker but banker serves as a convenient umbrella term. And strictly speaking, I’m not actually (yet) a banker of the ‘ex’ variety. However, I am on maternity leave, plus I was made redundant while on said maternity leave so the ‘ex’ is just a matter of time.
These days, it’s as shameful to be a banker as it is to be an alcoholic. But like the recovering alcoholic, I’m hoping to seek some reprieve given my status as a recovering banker.
It’s been 1 month shy of a year since I turned my back on the cocoon of my old life, swapping broking for baby, and simultaneously turned my life upside down, inside out, with a shake all about. Being a mother is exhilarating beyond the value of million dollar deals; it has given me a renewed outlook on, and purpose in, life. But it is also undeniably lonely on more than the odd occasion. Surrounded by nothing but the resounding sound of my own voice and the indecipherable and sometimes insatiable cries of a baby, the thoughts in my head are my only escape valve.
To those out there like me – nostalgic, regretful (not of what I’m doing now but of what I didn’t do when I could) , hopeful and striving to reconcile the dual identity of self BC (before child) with AD (after delivery), you’re not alone. Welcome to my world.