Don’t Offend Me by Calling Me Lucky

I worked my ass off to get where I am, it’s not about luck

Photo by Dayne Topkin on Unsplash

I have heard how lucky I am. Oh, I heard it so many times in my life that I can’t even count it. I heard it about my kids, my career, about moving to Spain, about how easily and quickly I handled the administration here, including getting a flat, getting my papers sorted out. I heard it. Loud and clear. Understood.

I am very lucky to be blessed with my three kids, who are healthy, well-mannered, smart, good kids. I know I am lucky to be their mum and I don’t forget about it ever. But I also don’t forget what seems to be forgotten by those labelling me lucky, that there are long years of struggles, fights, desperation and hard work also involved in this lucky situation.

I am lucky that I am successful in what I am doing. I chose a career path that eventually allowed me to work from home flexibly, that allowed me to venture into freelancing and that also allowed me to discover writing as a side-occupation. I am lucky that I got to know people throughout the 22 years of working whom I consider a great network, providing me with insights and opportunities, to grow, to learn, to evolve. I have been lucky with the job changes and with the promotions I received, and the good and bad bosses I had. But it’s not pure luck. It hasn’t been always…