A window to way back - just a glimpse of the shadows behind me

I'm considering going back to work after almost 2 years of enforced early retirement. I don't really want to but the money would be useful.
Thinking about this made me think about how I've changed. Me not working was once unheard of.

You see, I started work at 13 years of age. My dad was imprisoned when I was just turned 9 (that's another tale), came home again when I was 11 and was home a matter of weeks before he 'had' to leave again. Not prison this time but far away from us.
I had already become the home maker as there weren't such things as Jobseekers, Dole, Universal Credits or any other re-branded version of the social security payments that people get nowadays. The most we could hope for was free school uniform and free school dinners (which we ate in vast quantities for often it was our only meal of the day). Because of the lacking of social funding my mum had to work. She got a job as a cleaner at first and was out early mornings, so I, being the eldest, got my brother and sister ready for school/nursery, delivered said siblings to their allotted places and then caught the bus to school myself.
Upon my return from school, mum would be there but by 7pm 3 nights a week she got dressed up real pretty, sparkly gowns and silver shoes and went dancing. So, I was once again in charge of my siblings until mum returned, often around 2am.
This continued for a couple of years and then we moved.
I went to grammar school, mum changed jobs to an 8 - 5 in a factory and the money was better. The Law saw to it that dad paid mum £13 a week for our upkeep. £4 for her and £3 each for us children. I know in 1973 you could buy a lot more with your money but £13 to pay rent and keep us fed, clothed and warm was nothing but an insult. The pressure obviously got to my mum as she escaped the humdrum more and more. Mum found BINGO. By my 13th birthday she was dancing 3 nights and going to bingo 4 nights a week. We often had no food, the gas had been long cut off, and the electricity was paid for at a 50p slot meter which was invariably showing the "Uh!Uh! no power today sign".
We didn't have a fridge or freezer or washing machine or vacuum cleaner, so my young self would do all the chores the hard way. Often I'd be seen screaming at my brother to sweep up as I tried to enforce the chore upon him by hitting him with the brush. I always missed, he always went out and I always ended up doing it myself.
I cooked (when we had food), I cleaned, I washed, I ironed, I chaperoned the younger 2 back and forth to school, I studied at school myself but still it wasn't enough. Mum spent more time out and as a result, more of her wages.

One particular day I wanted to have a bath. I had got to the "everything must be spotless" cleaning stage of my early teens and a wash in cold water at the sink just wasn't cutting it. No 50p for the meter so I couldn't heat the water. I couldn't even boil the kettle for goodness sakes.
I was in a big fat strop and stormed out. Marching down the main high street nearby I slowed and for whatever reason stopped in front of the newsagent window. Little cards, postcard-ish in size, ten's of them, filled one window, all advertising. Free puppies, free kittens, £10 for a sofa ... then one jumped right off the window and smacked me in the face (not literally you understand, that would be freaky). Part timer Pools Collector wanted 1 night per week. You can earn up to £10 a week. TEN POUNDS!! That was almost as much as dad sent to maintain his deserted family. I took the number, found a phone box (no mobile phones then and the house phone had been cut off (I bet your're surprised at that (sarcasm)).
I spoke to a gent who said he'd pop in and see me when mum was about so I had to then tie her down to a time to be home. I succeeded and landed myself the job of every Thursday traipsing around the local vicinity knocking at doors (I had a list, it wasn't random) to collect football pools coupons and money. Friday a man would come and check everything, take most of the money and all of the coupons and leave me with my pay and instructions for the following week.
I learned to love that job and managed get home from school, do housework and homework, see mum arrive, see mum leave, palm my siblings off to friends houses, collect the coupons, retrieve aforementioned siblings and get everything ready for the next day all by 8pm.
I started with £6 in my pocket. Mum borrowed it. A few weeks in I was earning £10, £11 sometimes £12 a week but I learned very quickly to deduct a few pounds before telling mum. She would borrow the stated amount, often giving me a pound back as pocket money. I would have two or three stashed and we three children would eat and have electricity ALL week.

From that point on in my life I have always worked, mostly full time, sometimes part-time. Even when my children were born I took minimum time from work and went back part time within months.

So, after over 40 years of working for a living why would I feel like I don't want to any more. PTSD for one. All the trauma in my life, the reason my dad left, the abandonment by my mother and lots of other stuff burst forth and swamped me two years ago. Ok, so that aside, why else. I don't have to any more. Simple. My husband takes care of me. We're not rich, we only just get by but we get by and quite frankly I'm worn out from all of the years of being the strong one so I'm glad to let him take over.

Though.... the money would be useful........

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