There are quite moments, being unemployed, when I have been too paralyzed to get out of the chair to refill my own coffee. One part of my brain screaming at me to get up and do SOMETHING, the other part of me seeing just how few muscles I can engage without putting my self into a coma. I have found that lowest number is about 3 I think. Not being a doctor I don't know how accurate that is, but they are the fewest muscles needed to change the channel on the remote. Today, it was stuck several times. The first time it stuck was on a channel running 1980's hair band videos.
Somehow, in the near comatose state I was in at the time, I found myself analyzing the lyrics of Twisted Sisters' 'I Wanna Rock'. For those of you out there who are too young to remember, or who spent the '80's partaking of various experimental chemicals, or the rest of us who just want to forget that we have a pair of electric blue spandex pants hanging in our closet, the music video (remember those!) began with the Twisted Sister band members in a classroom and an overbearing teacher-type screaming into the fish-eye lens of the camera.... "WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DO WITH YOUR LIFE?!?!?" Their answer, "I wan-na Rock!!!" (42 times in the song - yes, I counted).
Reclining there, that sentence and the screaming teacher/parent face bouncing around inside my head, I found my self asking the same question. "What DO I want to do with my life?" I'm unemployed, but not dead. So, what do I do NEXT? I've had the privilege of doing many things as an adult in the working world. Laying there, with Hershey (see my earlier post about our dogs) snoring happily in my lap, I began a mental review of the jobs I have had in the past and by the time I got to my late 20's section I came to a realization.
Instead of 'rocking-out' (read, doing what I really WANT to do - pursuing what I am really GOOD at) I have spent most of my working time doing jobs that met my immediate needs, paid the bills, made me feel worthy in the eyes of others, but, really, quite honestly were rarely if ever what I really liked, or enjoyed doing.
Now, I could delve into further psychological self-analysis, get all Freudian and such, but let's just say that it is fair to say that I, like most in my generation, spent our formative (high school and early college years) listening to others tell us.... "You can't do THAT for a living! Are you CRAZY?", "Why on EARTH would a NORMAL person want to do THAT! You'll never make any MONEY that way!!" and my personal favorite, "We all HATE our JOBS!! You're not SUPPOSED to be HAPPY! You're just supposed to make MONEY!! That's all that matters!!" (see previous post!).
The more I sat there, thinking about all this, I found my self wondering - out loud, to the dog, who had shifted position and was now looking at me with his half-sleeping eyes, trying to will me further into a coma - 'Why? Why CAN'T I do something I like? Why do I HAVE to be miserable? Why can't I be happy?" Why?
I need to get this dog off my lap, get up, refill the mug and start making a plan. So, with great Herculean effort, I pushed the 70# sleeping lump of labrador out of my lap and did just that. I took a walk around the house, with coffee cup in hand, trying to make sense of this latest revelation...
....nothing....no sun-bursting through the clouds moment. I think I will walk the dogs...
Back from the dog walking I resumed the position in my chair, and (as it seems now) apprapos, I popped in an episode of 'LOST'. For those of you not familiar with the show, John Locke begins his part of the story in a wheel chair, headed out for, of all things, a 'walk-about' adventure trip in Australia. At one point in the story he screams at the camera (like the teacher in the Twisted Sister video). "Don't TELL me what I CAN'T DO!!!!", "Don't TELL me what I CAN'T DO!!!!", "Don't TELL me what I CAN'T DO!!!!" That sentence now echos in my head. Pushing me... Challenging me to do what I WANT to do. What I LIKE to do, and to find a way to make MONEY to do that.
Doing this will be probably the hardest thing for me to do...break with traditional expectations, traditional occupations, and listen to MYSELF for a change... I no longer believe that it is SELFISH to want to be HAPPY and ENJOY what we do for a LIVING.
I'm 47, if I am REALLY lucky I have another 20 or so 'working' years left. I want to find a way to WORK and ENJOY it, and to make ends meet. I don't think it is impossible. It will require me to listen to my 'inner Locke'.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Monday, March 22, 2010
Phase 8: Sadly...."It's All About The Benjamins"
Well, I am now in week 6 of the unemployment experience. I have reminisced somewhat whimsically about various phases of emotions that I have been through, trying to keep an upbeat nature about things. But, being honest with myself in this situation, it does get tougher to maintain a cheerful front as I approach what I believe is a crossroads based purely on the ability to meet the economic needs of my family.
Again, I know I must temper the fact that my period of unemployment is no where near as long or as painful (yet) as many thousands of others in this country, it is fear of the future that is worse than anything for me at this point. I feel like I am a kid again, waiting for a punishment to be administered - sitting at the edge of my bed, waiting for a spanking.
As I sit here, in the dark, early in the morning, wrapped in a blanket, coffee at hand, at what traditionally has been my favorite time of day, I now find myself almost paralyzed with fear about what lies ahead. I have that same gut wrenching, pre-punishment fear - the bile rises in your stomach to the point of wanting to vomit.
Every poor economic decision, or on the job decision, that has led up to this point now runs through my head like some mad Rollo-Dex of shortcomings. Every time it comes to rest it seems to reveal yet another bad decision that has led to my plight. The list in my head is too long to share here.
In our society we are defined by what we do for a living. More to the point in the current economy it is even more basic than that - it's not WHAT you do for a living that matters, as much as it is do you have a JOB! Sitting at home, scouring the internet for job opportunities, listening to talk radio, passively watching television talk shows, examining my dwindling available finances, I find myself balancing on the edge of giving up. It's all about money.
No job, denied unemployment, bills to pay, one kid expecting to go to college in less than half a year, the other in need of braces, a house in need of some major fix-ups. It is hard to see any light at the end of the tunnel. Heck, at this point I would even accept the light of the proverbial train - ending the thoughts that creep back into my mind.
Rarely in my life have I felt the need to just not feel anything - I understand the allure of drugs, alcohol and even the release of suicide that many resort to. But, as I have said, those paths are not for me. The confusing thing is I don't know whether those paths demonstrate great strength of will, or complete lack of will.
Given the fact that giving up is not on the table, moving on will not be easy. It will involve the pain and embarrassment of self-disclosure of my situation to complete strangers. I know the necessity of it, but it does not make my stomach churn any less. Until, I get another job, I must face the reality of the situation. I am now one of the masses putting out my hand for help. It's all about money.
I am faced with calls to my mortgage company, our utility companies, college financial aid offices, and the like - forced to ask for extensions, reductions and extra help. Asking for help has never been easy for me, because I have been taught that a a man worth his salt is self sufficient and can get through anything on his own. Now I have to depend on every one just to get by. It's bad enough asking for the help of family, but it is even worse having to talk with strangers - for those of you who know me, this will seem a weird contradiction since I have been told that I never shut up. It's all about money.
So I will just say that is increasingly difficult to push back these images, as I sit here in the dark. My coffee now cold. I have to force myself to get up and move on. One day at a time, trying to find a new source of money to keep things going. It's all about the Benjamins.
Again, I know I must temper the fact that my period of unemployment is no where near as long or as painful (yet) as many thousands of others in this country, it is fear of the future that is worse than anything for me at this point. I feel like I am a kid again, waiting for a punishment to be administered - sitting at the edge of my bed, waiting for a spanking.
As I sit here, in the dark, early in the morning, wrapped in a blanket, coffee at hand, at what traditionally has been my favorite time of day, I now find myself almost paralyzed with fear about what lies ahead. I have that same gut wrenching, pre-punishment fear - the bile rises in your stomach to the point of wanting to vomit.
Every poor economic decision, or on the job decision, that has led up to this point now runs through my head like some mad Rollo-Dex of shortcomings. Every time it comes to rest it seems to reveal yet another bad decision that has led to my plight. The list in my head is too long to share here.
In our society we are defined by what we do for a living. More to the point in the current economy it is even more basic than that - it's not WHAT you do for a living that matters, as much as it is do you have a JOB! Sitting at home, scouring the internet for job opportunities, listening to talk radio, passively watching television talk shows, examining my dwindling available finances, I find myself balancing on the edge of giving up. It's all about money.
No job, denied unemployment, bills to pay, one kid expecting to go to college in less than half a year, the other in need of braces, a house in need of some major fix-ups. It is hard to see any light at the end of the tunnel. Heck, at this point I would even accept the light of the proverbial train - ending the thoughts that creep back into my mind.
Rarely in my life have I felt the need to just not feel anything - I understand the allure of drugs, alcohol and even the release of suicide that many resort to. But, as I have said, those paths are not for me. The confusing thing is I don't know whether those paths demonstrate great strength of will, or complete lack of will.
Given the fact that giving up is not on the table, moving on will not be easy. It will involve the pain and embarrassment of self-disclosure of my situation to complete strangers. I know the necessity of it, but it does not make my stomach churn any less. Until, I get another job, I must face the reality of the situation. I am now one of the masses putting out my hand for help. It's all about money.
I am faced with calls to my mortgage company, our utility companies, college financial aid offices, and the like - forced to ask for extensions, reductions and extra help. Asking for help has never been easy for me, because I have been taught that a a man worth his salt is self sufficient and can get through anything on his own. Now I have to depend on every one just to get by. It's bad enough asking for the help of family, but it is even worse having to talk with strangers - for those of you who know me, this will seem a weird contradiction since I have been told that I never shut up. It's all about money.
So I will just say that is increasingly difficult to push back these images, as I sit here in the dark. My coffee now cold. I have to force myself to get up and move on. One day at a time, trying to find a new source of money to keep things going. It's all about the Benjamins.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Phase 7: Hidden Wonders..."All your PETS know is that 'Dad's home'!"
Despite the thought that I could possibly use a good dose of anti-depressants, being unemployed has allowed me to look at life from many different angles. Many, though, were I to sit down with a psychiatrist, might seem a bit awkward, and possibly reveal more about what's going on in my head than might be prudent! However, I have discovered a group of beings that are more than happy that I am not working... our pets.
We will start with the cats. One we will skip, she is older and sleeps about 20 hours a day, and could care less about humans in the house as long as they fill the food dish, water bowl and empty the cat box now and then.
However, there is the other cat - 'The Damn Cat', a I usually name him. Even as I write this blog I have to deal with the stupid cat. He is perched atop my computer, basking in the morning sun. His stupid tail dangling down in front of my screen - forcing me to bat it out of the way every couple of seconds so I can see what the hell I am typing! But, the cat is happy.
With me at home he has realized that there is SOMEONE who he can curl up next to and force back into sleep - exuding that special Cat-Atonic-Sleep magic that cats possess. This comes only after he is done with his 4:00 A.M. wake up call - which usually consists of knocking various objects off night stands or dressers - making sure that my wife and I are fully aware that it is cat play-time and he is not to be ignored.
As I mentioned in an earlier post, were it not for the fact that I have to get both boys up, fed, dressed and out of the house for school, I am SURE that I would be uder the Cat Spell until probably noon each day. But. Alas. Were this the only creature I have to deal with....but oh, no... there... are... the... dogs...
We have two dogs. Both love having me at home in their own special way. Their appreciation of me has to more with their relative age and how I can make their lives more enjoyable based, apparently on my abilities as both comforter, arbiter, or cruel task master. Here is how it works.
Dog one, the old one, Ginger. Pushing 12 years old (which is old for a Boxer-Lab mix). Ginger has developed age based conditions, oddly similar to my own and for some reason looks at me with that special gaze that seems to say, "Dude, you, of all the humans in this hous, should understand how I feel!"
Ginger, for the most part, only wants three things. To sleep in her bed, to sleep on the front-porch-couch next to me (now that the weather has broke) and to be allowed to go out side and chase away the various members of the bird and squirrel species that visit our back yard. Besides a good walk, and a daily massage of her bad hip, that's pretty much it from her.
Now, on to the other dog, 'The Damn Dog' - as my wife would call him. Hershey is a rambunctious 2 year-old Chocolate Lab that has two definitions of me in his world, maybe three. One. 'He-Who-Uncages-Me, Feeds Me, and Lets me Out'. Two. 'He-Who-Must-Play-With-Me-When-Ever-He-Stands-Up-Or-Moves'. Three. 'He-Who-Must-Let-Me-Haul-My-70 pound body-Into-His-Lap-So-We-Can-Take-A-Nap.' Hey, I don't make these names up! Really. Hershey tells me this himself - - - oh, man I gotta get outside and get some air - I'm interpreting dog thought!
So, given this understanding of our pets. How does this affect me, now that I am home?
...
...
...
...
Sorry, I'm back. I just had to play the other role - from the pet perspective - that of 'He-Who-Breaks-Up-Slobbery-Fights-Over-Stumps-Of-Rawhide-Bones'. What did they do on the days when I WASN'T here? God, if I didn't know any better they BOTH act like a couple of two year olds! So, I broke up the tussle, freed the bone stumps from UNDER Ginger, who had them in her bed. "Grrrrrrrrrrr." Ginger, (I got the bones and YOU'RE not getting them. - human translation). "Ruh!, Ruh!, Ruh!... Ruh!, Ruh!, RUH!" Hershey, (I - Want - One! I - Want - One!. human translation).
This goes on for a good 5 minutes before they jump up and are at each other's necks like a couple of tasmanian devils. SO, I pull my self away from my typing, grab them both by the collar, and toss them outside. Ah..... I think I have one! But wait.... Why is it so quiet outside???
I chance a peek out the back door... Hershey is getting his vengance by dragging branches and wood from the wood pile all over the back yard, and Ginger is getter her vengance, by apparently digging to China through my tulip beds!
"God, Damn it Dogs!!!!!"
---- I gotta go....
We will start with the cats. One we will skip, she is older and sleeps about 20 hours a day, and could care less about humans in the house as long as they fill the food dish, water bowl and empty the cat box now and then.
However, there is the other cat - 'The Damn Cat', a I usually name him. Even as I write this blog I have to deal with the stupid cat. He is perched atop my computer, basking in the morning sun. His stupid tail dangling down in front of my screen - forcing me to bat it out of the way every couple of seconds so I can see what the hell I am typing! But, the cat is happy.
With me at home he has realized that there is SOMEONE who he can curl up next to and force back into sleep - exuding that special Cat-Atonic-Sleep magic that cats possess. This comes only after he is done with his 4:00 A.M. wake up call - which usually consists of knocking various objects off night stands or dressers - making sure that my wife and I are fully aware that it is cat play-time and he is not to be ignored.
As I mentioned in an earlier post, were it not for the fact that I have to get both boys up, fed, dressed and out of the house for school, I am SURE that I would be uder the Cat Spell until probably noon each day. But. Alas. Were this the only creature I have to deal with....but oh, no... there... are... the... dogs...
We have two dogs. Both love having me at home in their own special way. Their appreciation of me has to more with their relative age and how I can make their lives more enjoyable based, apparently on my abilities as both comforter, arbiter, or cruel task master. Here is how it works.
Dog one, the old one, Ginger. Pushing 12 years old (which is old for a Boxer-Lab mix). Ginger has developed age based conditions, oddly similar to my own and for some reason looks at me with that special gaze that seems to say, "Dude, you, of all the humans in this hous, should understand how I feel!"
Ginger, for the most part, only wants three things. To sleep in her bed, to sleep on the front-porch-couch next to me (now that the weather has broke) and to be allowed to go out side and chase away the various members of the bird and squirrel species that visit our back yard. Besides a good walk, and a daily massage of her bad hip, that's pretty much it from her.
Now, on to the other dog, 'The Damn Dog' - as my wife would call him. Hershey is a rambunctious 2 year-old Chocolate Lab that has two definitions of me in his world, maybe three. One. 'He-Who-Uncages-Me, Feeds Me, and Lets me Out'. Two. 'He-Who-Must-Play-With-Me-When-Ever-He-Stands-Up-Or-Moves'. Three. 'He-Who-Must-Let-Me-Haul-My-70 pound body-Into-His-Lap-So-We-Can-Take-A-Nap.' Hey, I don't make these names up! Really. Hershey tells me this himself - - - oh, man I gotta get outside and get some air - I'm interpreting dog thought!
So, given this understanding of our pets. How does this affect me, now that I am home?
...
...
...
...
Sorry, I'm back. I just had to play the other role - from the pet perspective - that of 'He-Who-Breaks-Up-Slobbery-Fights-Over-Stumps-Of-Rawhide-Bones'. What did they do on the days when I WASN'T here? God, if I didn't know any better they BOTH act like a couple of two year olds! So, I broke up the tussle, freed the bone stumps from UNDER Ginger, who had them in her bed. "Grrrrrrrrrrr." Ginger, (I got the bones and YOU'RE not getting them. - human translation). "Ruh!, Ruh!, Ruh!... Ruh!, Ruh!, RUH!" Hershey, (I - Want - One! I - Want - One!. human translation).
This goes on for a good 5 minutes before they jump up and are at each other's necks like a couple of tasmanian devils. SO, I pull my self away from my typing, grab them both by the collar, and toss them outside. Ah..... I think I have one! But wait.... Why is it so quiet outside???
I chance a peek out the back door... Hershey is getting his vengance by dragging branches and wood from the wood pile all over the back yard, and Ginger is getter her vengance, by apparently digging to China through my tulip beds!
"God, Damn it Dogs!!!!!"
---- I gotta go....
Friday, March 12, 2010
Phase 6: "I am the 1 in 10" - In Reggae Lies Hope!
Welcome to week 4 of the unemployment journey. The first few weeks were a mixture of shock, disbelief, anguish grieving and even, at one point, a feeling of relief... Then, I wake up this week, still unemployed, surrounded by the growing detritus of printed applications, verification of online applications filled out, e-mail responses of jobs not offered.
The early mornings seem to be the toughest. The quiet moments before I drag myself out of bed. The moments when all the problems that I face come rushing full force back into my mind, like some kind of mental tidal wave that until moments before had been held at bay by sleep. I can't even recall a dream that would have countered reality. I just recall laying down at night, turning out the light, then waking to the radio. The radio. Maybe that is the issue.
I have it set to come on to NPR, which for me, usually, is a good way to start the day, no blaring 'bleep'-'bleep'-'bleep' to wake me up, just the warm voice of people, coming in softly. But, recently, there has been little comfort in what they say. As I lay there, trying to pull myself away from the cat curled up against my shoulder, I find it increasingly difficult to do so. Each story ads more gloom to my mood, more strength to the tidal wave of uncertainty that has become my daily walk through the world of the newly unemployed.
One statistic sticks in my mind... oddly enough the radio show used a song from UB-40, one of my favorite bands.... 'One in Ten' is the title... This is also what I have become, one in ten. One of the nearly 10% of people who are out of work. On the outside looking in... Consider this too.... the band UB-40 is named for the form that Britts must fill out when they lose their jobs! The bands members met in the unemployment line!
"I am a one in ten a number on a list,..."
No longer am I 'Scott Lightfoot - Technology Coordinator'. I am now a Social Security Number, one of the faceless millions who must wear this badge of identification - now more similar to a number, say on a prison uniform than anything else, we are currently, mostly for reasons beyond our control 'locked-out' of gainful work. And, in this country, having 'work' defines us, makes us part of the greater whole, gives us a sense of self-worth. This may seem a bit melodramatic, but it is what it is.
"....I am a one in ten even though i don't exist."
Nobody knows me, but im always there,
A statistic a reminder of a world that doesn't care."
Bear with me because I am looking at this from my perspective. When I talk to my 'employed' friends, they are all very sympathetic, understanding and very supportive of my plight, and I appreciate their support. But, I can almost see it - behind their caring gazes - what their thinking... "Man, that sucks for him... I'm GLAD I still have MY job. I sure hope I don't get fired." Now, this is not a judgment, because, to be honest I have had the same experience, when a good friend or two were 'let-go' over the past couple of years. Now, however, the ugliness of unemployment has caught up with me. When I get up and leave, or walk out the door... They go back to their work-world, where I don't exist.
"I'm a middle aged businessman
With chronic heart disease"
While not yet dire, my situation is a bit complicated. I'm 47. I'm not fresh out of college with a bag full of fresh training for the new market economy. I'm not a single person with no one to care for or fend for but myself. I'm a married man, with two kids - one hoping to go to college in less than 6 months - the other in need of braces. I have a mortgage, credit card payments, medical bills, a ghetto-esque jeep that is falling apart, a 100 year old house that needs a new roof, among other things. Thank GOD my wife is working too. Still, we are now living on one full time income, instead of two. Thanks to my employer, I don't even get unemployment either. Things do not look good.
"A refugee without a home
I'm a house wife hooked on Valium
I'm a Pensioner alone"
Now, not to put too fine a point on things, we are faced with this... I'm HOPING beyond hope that I get work soon and we won't be faced with the loss of our home. I don't PLAN on becoming an alcoholic without family or friends, wandering around the streets of Toledo. But I do know that all these possibilities have made their appearance like some kind of vampiric demons that flash in and out of conscious thought and fill nightmares causing fitful sleep. I have even gone so far as to make phone calls to lenders and utility companies, and to collegiate financial aid offices. The embarressment involved in making the calls, explaining the whys and wherfores of my pathetic situation, have left me, I'm almost certain, with an ulcer. I know I don't have much choice but to try and be prepared for the worst.
"I'm a cancer ridden spectre
Covering the earth
I'm another hungry baby
I'm an accident of birth."
O.K. so, as is the case with most Reggae songs, has seen to end the song with a verse that is not qite what it seems - this one for example which reminds me that despite my sometimes selfish thoughts about my situation, that I really need to keep somethings in perspective. Unlike others, I am not dealing with a personal-terminal illness, not battling every day just to stay alive. I do not live in a nation shattered by earthquakes, nor threatened every day by random suicide bombers. I do not fear for the lives of my children being mistakenly killed by a misplaced missile or mortar round. And, in the end. I am fortunate to live in a country where, despite my current struggle, I at least have hope, a chance to rise-up again. Jah, luv....
The early mornings seem to be the toughest. The quiet moments before I drag myself out of bed. The moments when all the problems that I face come rushing full force back into my mind, like some kind of mental tidal wave that until moments before had been held at bay by sleep. I can't even recall a dream that would have countered reality. I just recall laying down at night, turning out the light, then waking to the radio. The radio. Maybe that is the issue.
I have it set to come on to NPR, which for me, usually, is a good way to start the day, no blaring 'bleep'-'bleep'-'bleep' to wake me up, just the warm voice of people, coming in softly. But, recently, there has been little comfort in what they say. As I lay there, trying to pull myself away from the cat curled up against my shoulder, I find it increasingly difficult to do so. Each story ads more gloom to my mood, more strength to the tidal wave of uncertainty that has become my daily walk through the world of the newly unemployed.
One statistic sticks in my mind... oddly enough the radio show used a song from UB-40, one of my favorite bands.... 'One in Ten' is the title... This is also what I have become, one in ten. One of the nearly 10% of people who are out of work. On the outside looking in... Consider this too.... the band UB-40 is named for the form that Britts must fill out when they lose their jobs! The bands members met in the unemployment line!
"I am a one in ten a number on a list,..."
No longer am I 'Scott Lightfoot - Technology Coordinator'. I am now a Social Security Number, one of the faceless millions who must wear this badge of identification - now more similar to a number, say on a prison uniform than anything else, we are currently, mostly for reasons beyond our control 'locked-out' of gainful work. And, in this country, having 'work' defines us, makes us part of the greater whole, gives us a sense of self-worth. This may seem a bit melodramatic, but it is what it is.
"....I am a one in ten even though i don't exist."
Nobody knows me, but im always there,
A statistic a reminder of a world that doesn't care."
Bear with me because I am looking at this from my perspective. When I talk to my 'employed' friends, they are all very sympathetic, understanding and very supportive of my plight, and I appreciate their support. But, I can almost see it - behind their caring gazes - what their thinking... "Man, that sucks for him... I'm GLAD I still have MY job. I sure hope I don't get fired." Now, this is not a judgment, because, to be honest I have had the same experience, when a good friend or two were 'let-go' over the past couple of years. Now, however, the ugliness of unemployment has caught up with me. When I get up and leave, or walk out the door... They go back to their work-world, where I don't exist.
"I'm a middle aged businessman
With chronic heart disease"
While not yet dire, my situation is a bit complicated. I'm 47. I'm not fresh out of college with a bag full of fresh training for the new market economy. I'm not a single person with no one to care for or fend for but myself. I'm a married man, with two kids - one hoping to go to college in less than 6 months - the other in need of braces. I have a mortgage, credit card payments, medical bills, a ghetto-esque jeep that is falling apart, a 100 year old house that needs a new roof, among other things. Thank GOD my wife is working too. Still, we are now living on one full time income, instead of two. Thanks to my employer, I don't even get unemployment either. Things do not look good.
"A refugee without a home
I'm a house wife hooked on Valium
I'm a Pensioner alone"
Now, not to put too fine a point on things, we are faced with this... I'm HOPING beyond hope that I get work soon and we won't be faced with the loss of our home. I don't PLAN on becoming an alcoholic without family or friends, wandering around the streets of Toledo. But I do know that all these possibilities have made their appearance like some kind of vampiric demons that flash in and out of conscious thought and fill nightmares causing fitful sleep. I have even gone so far as to make phone calls to lenders and utility companies, and to collegiate financial aid offices. The embarressment involved in making the calls, explaining the whys and wherfores of my pathetic situation, have left me, I'm almost certain, with an ulcer. I know I don't have much choice but to try and be prepared for the worst.
"I'm a cancer ridden spectre
Covering the earth
I'm another hungry baby
I'm an accident of birth."
O.K. so, as is the case with most Reggae songs, has seen to end the song with a verse that is not qite what it seems - this one for example which reminds me that despite my sometimes selfish thoughts about my situation, that I really need to keep somethings in perspective. Unlike others, I am not dealing with a personal-terminal illness, not battling every day just to stay alive. I do not live in a nation shattered by earthquakes, nor threatened every day by random suicide bombers. I do not fear for the lives of my children being mistakenly killed by a misplaced missile or mortar round. And, in the end. I am fortunate to live in a country where, despite my current struggle, I at least have hope, a chance to rise-up again. Jah, luv....
Monday, March 8, 2010
Phase 5: The Waiting Game OR 'Of Dust Bunnies & Dog Poop'
Well, as week two of my unemployment saga came to a close, I began wondering about 'What next?" By this time I had been through the emotional wringer of job loss, the confusion over how to approach the hunt for a new job in an uncertain economy, and have come to the point where waiting and patience will be almost as important as the ongoing diligence of the search.
In the past couple weeks I have put out bait for the Newjita, and now I must wait to see what it attracts. If you are not familiar with the Newjita, you need to go back to Phase 4 and discover just what it is! So, while I wait, how I deal with the almost mind-numbing amounts of free-time that I face each day.
On the surface, to the employed people, this would seem a wonderful thing,
"Wow, man, you can just sit around all day and just chill...." a friend told me.
Looking back at him over our third cup of coffee, I say, "Uhh no, dude, it's not like that."
Alright, since I am being honest in this blog, it would be a stretch to say that I have not spent ANY time laying around a bit, catching up on some television, watching multiple episodes of HOUSE or 24 on DVD, or taking a nap with the now 70 pound labrador retriever planted heavily in my lap.
Besides the occasional nap, not being employed has also allowed me to 'relax' a bit - in some not so pleasant ways - as is revealed by my reflection in the coffee shop window, I noticed that I hadn't stepped close enough to the razor in the last week or so.... Not a good look, even in the reflection. I was beginning to look like one of the guys I had passed in the streets last week. Gotta shave when I get home, gotta get back on track.
Returning home after having dropped the kids off at school, and the coffee and encouraging conversation, I stopped to look around...What to do, where to start?
I come from a family of 'list-makers' so, I grabbed a piece of paper and began walking around writing down the things I could do to fill the time as I wait for the traps I have set for the Newjita to yeild up my prey (see Phase 4 to understand the nature of the Newjita). The list grew like the 'Blob' - the old 1950's monster (yes, I have spent some time channel surfing old movies). Upon closer inspection I found that the list would quickly put me right back into 40+ hour work week in order to get every thing done. Maybe I should pare it down a bit. Here is what I came up with, in no particular order.
1) Laundry - wash, dry, fold, put away. Since I am trying to be as honest as possible with this blog, I can't say that I have done ALL the laundry, but at least the baskets are full of clean laundry now rather than dirty, though it all needs putting away!
2) Dishes - usually I push this chore onto our oldest kid. Part of me says, "Give the kid a break!, Your home all day, you can do the dishes and clean the kitchen!" Wait - that's crazy talk, next thing you know they will have me popping Zoloft! I might do SOME of the dishes, but, just because I'm not working does not mean it's a vacation for him!
3) Cleaning the House - this task would be a multi-day event, I can break it down to smaller projects, I may begin there. There are so many places to start; closets, drawers, desks, cabinets, floors, walls, basement, attic, floors! Oh, the floors! The horror! The horror. Some things don't mix well in floor-world; driveway salt, muddy dog feet and hardwood floors. Close examination reveals that the occasional spot cleaning through out the winter has not done the job! A close look at the edges and corners reveal a nightmarish collection of 'Dust-Bunnies' - why do we use this term? They do NOT resemble bunnies in the least! What they DO look like is some kind of a genetic experiment combined with one of the cats for Pet Cemetary. Being honest with myself, I can say that - when employed - I could always put off cleaning these things up. "Ahh.... It's not THAT bad, I'll do it later, when I'm not so busy." Now, however, I have nightmares of the things in the corners creeping out at night, gathering together, silently, like some kind of animal hair, dust, lint transformer that crawls onto my head in my sleep, suffocating me...Oh, wait, that was the cat!
4) Clean the Garage - ahhh, now we are talking, a truly 'manly' task, cleaning out the detritus of the winter, from dirt and salt, to empty boxes, broken stuff and all the things that seem to pile up from Novemeber to the Spring. This sounds even better.
5) Spruce up the Yard - Oh, man... walking around the yard with the dogs has become akin to walking in a mine field - of dog poo! This, I clearly see will be a race against time. I must start here. With the Spring thaw beginning each day that the temperature hits 40, reveals more winter leavings as the snow recedes like a glacier, but instead of cool remains of wooly mammoths, I find myself faced with only the piles left behind by our two lovable dogs. I need to get to this quick! Before the first of the Spring rains arrive making the task next to impossible!
Alright I have a place to start. Grab another cup of coffee, break out the French Maid outfit - no, I don't REALLY have one! Seriously, I don't! - the feather duster and the poop scooper and get to work! The sun will rise, the poop will soften and things will be a real mess!
In the past couple weeks I have put out bait for the Newjita, and now I must wait to see what it attracts. If you are not familiar with the Newjita, you need to go back to Phase 4 and discover just what it is! So, while I wait, how I deal with the almost mind-numbing amounts of free-time that I face each day.
On the surface, to the employed people, this would seem a wonderful thing,
"Wow, man, you can just sit around all day and just chill...." a friend told me.
Looking back at him over our third cup of coffee, I say, "Uhh no, dude, it's not like that."
Alright, since I am being honest in this blog, it would be a stretch to say that I have not spent ANY time laying around a bit, catching up on some television, watching multiple episodes of HOUSE or 24 on DVD, or taking a nap with the now 70 pound labrador retriever planted heavily in my lap.
Besides the occasional nap, not being employed has also allowed me to 'relax' a bit - in some not so pleasant ways - as is revealed by my reflection in the coffee shop window, I noticed that I hadn't stepped close enough to the razor in the last week or so.... Not a good look, even in the reflection. I was beginning to look like one of the guys I had passed in the streets last week. Gotta shave when I get home, gotta get back on track.
Returning home after having dropped the kids off at school, and the coffee and encouraging conversation, I stopped to look around...What to do, where to start?
I come from a family of 'list-makers' so, I grabbed a piece of paper and began walking around writing down the things I could do to fill the time as I wait for the traps I have set for the Newjita to yeild up my prey (see Phase 4 to understand the nature of the Newjita). The list grew like the 'Blob' - the old 1950's monster (yes, I have spent some time channel surfing old movies). Upon closer inspection I found that the list would quickly put me right back into 40+ hour work week in order to get every thing done. Maybe I should pare it down a bit. Here is what I came up with, in no particular order.
1) Laundry - wash, dry, fold, put away. Since I am trying to be as honest as possible with this blog, I can't say that I have done ALL the laundry, but at least the baskets are full of clean laundry now rather than dirty, though it all needs putting away!
2) Dishes - usually I push this chore onto our oldest kid. Part of me says, "Give the kid a break!, Your home all day, you can do the dishes and clean the kitchen!" Wait - that's crazy talk, next thing you know they will have me popping Zoloft! I might do SOME of the dishes, but, just because I'm not working does not mean it's a vacation for him!
3) Cleaning the House - this task would be a multi-day event, I can break it down to smaller projects, I may begin there. There are so many places to start; closets, drawers, desks, cabinets, floors, walls, basement, attic, floors! Oh, the floors! The horror! The horror. Some things don't mix well in floor-world; driveway salt, muddy dog feet and hardwood floors. Close examination reveals that the occasional spot cleaning through out the winter has not done the job! A close look at the edges and corners reveal a nightmarish collection of 'Dust-Bunnies' - why do we use this term? They do NOT resemble bunnies in the least! What they DO look like is some kind of a genetic experiment combined with one of the cats for Pet Cemetary. Being honest with myself, I can say that - when employed - I could always put off cleaning these things up. "Ahh.... It's not THAT bad, I'll do it later, when I'm not so busy." Now, however, I have nightmares of the things in the corners creeping out at night, gathering together, silently, like some kind of animal hair, dust, lint transformer that crawls onto my head in my sleep, suffocating me...Oh, wait, that was the cat!
4) Clean the Garage - ahhh, now we are talking, a truly 'manly' task, cleaning out the detritus of the winter, from dirt and salt, to empty boxes, broken stuff and all the things that seem to pile up from Novemeber to the Spring. This sounds even better.
5) Spruce up the Yard - Oh, man... walking around the yard with the dogs has become akin to walking in a mine field - of dog poo! This, I clearly see will be a race against time. I must start here. With the Spring thaw beginning each day that the temperature hits 40, reveals more winter leavings as the snow recedes like a glacier, but instead of cool remains of wooly mammoths, I find myself faced with only the piles left behind by our two lovable dogs. I need to get to this quick! Before the first of the Spring rains arrive making the task next to impossible!
Alright I have a place to start. Grab another cup of coffee, break out the French Maid outfit - no, I don't REALLY have one! Seriously, I don't! - the feather duster and the poop scooper and get to work! The sun will rise, the poop will soften and things will be a real mess!
Friday, March 5, 2010
Phase 4: The New Hunt...for the elusive 'Newjita'
A quick recap, for those just joining the game: Sudden loss of my job, followed by days of anguish, torment, fear. Taking stock of the situation reveals a group of wonderfully supportive friends and family who, whether they know it or not, have saved me from myself. Emerging from the emotional aftermath, I am, by both necessity and desire, back in the hunt.
The prey, a new job. My quarry is unknown. I have been hunting before, but I enter this new hunt with a set of old tools that, though long trusted, may have to be abandoned in order to catch this new and elusive creature - a New Job In A Techno Age, hmmmm. I am hunting the elusive 'NEWJITA'. I love acronyms!
Yes, the NEWJITA it is. I've identified the name of the prey, so now, how do I hunt it? What doe it look like? Where does it live? How do I track it? How do I capture it? Tame it, and make it work for me? These are the new questions as this Old-School Job Hunter enters the wilderness home of the Newjita.
So, let's look at my hunters kit, and see what I have to work with.
1) Desire to catch my prey - check.
2) Resume - with which to bait my prey - oooh, this thing looks stale, no one would bite on this, I will have to fix that.
3) Cover Letter - this is always a bit tricky and will have to be adjusted to the individual Newjita after I find its trail.
4) Hunting Attire - oh, man, when was the last time I wore THAT suit? These shoes? What's the saying, 'you can tell a lot about a man by his shoes'? Hair cut? Yeah, get one...Oh, and that 'I'm a rebel so I'm gonna grow a beard' look... I know, as fun as the thought has been, it's gotta go before I show up for an interview.
5) Hunting Method - I haven't been on a hunt in a long time, so I need to pow-wow with some of my colleagues and friends who have and get their take on this new prey, and how to catch and tame the wild Newjita.
Like any good hunter will tell you, you just don't throw your gear in the back of your truck and go, you must have a plan. You must understand the nature of the prey, the habitat in which it lives, how it behaves, and yes, even your limitations as a hunter.
Here is how my plan has come together so far.
I have updated my resume, prepared a couple different cover letters, cleaned up my suit and shoes, (scheduled) some grooming and pulled out the rollodex, no check that, the cell phone, to contact my fellow hunters.
The first thing I worked on is re-establishing as many contacts in my current and past job areas as I could, filling them in on what I have been up to and bringing them up to speed on my current situation. This process has taken place over several coffee sessions, a couple lunches and dozens of phone calls and facebook posts (I bet you were wondering when I would start linking technology to the hunt!). The end result was this - the methodology of the hunt has changed - catching a Newjita will be challenging for someone like me, who is bridging the gap between the old-school, snail-mail method of job hunting, to the new approach, involving the instantaneous world of electronic 'tracking' of the new prey.
I see the hunt as two pronged... My approach has been to spend several hours each day 'sniffing the winds' of the dozens (heck proably hundreds) of job-related sites on the internet. I enter information over and over, peruse the prospects that the search engines return. Next I prepare the bait -choose the right resume, include the right references, and attach the proper cover letter... I hit 'upload', and await the baited trap.
In the past week and a half or so I have repeated this process nigh on to 40-50 times. Attempting to lure prey from three or four different areas, using a variety of tracking and baiting skills. Now the hard part for any hunter....the waiting.
The second aspect is more old-school. Getting in my Jeep, driving around to the offices of my fellow successful hunters and putting them on the spot - I take a 'rush-the-cave' method here - put a fresh copy of my resume and business card directly in their hands.... you can't ignore, or hit the 'delete' button on a hand shake or someone standing at your office. To me that demonstrates the eagerness of the hunter, the hunger to track down the prey!
Though my blind for waiting out the appearance of the Newjita is MUCH more comfortable than any tree stand, duck blind and all but the most opulent of ice-houses - I sit in front of the computer, with my Columbian Coffee and a fresh bagel at hand - and I wait, like any good hunter, trying to not get cramped up (cooped up in the house), trying to stay attentive (I finally have all the time I need to catch up on shows on the DVR), or trying to stay awake (there is really not much preventing me from stretching out on the couch for a nice long nap)....waiting, waiting, waiting - for the first glimpse of the Newjita...
The prey, a new job. My quarry is unknown. I have been hunting before, but I enter this new hunt with a set of old tools that, though long trusted, may have to be abandoned in order to catch this new and elusive creature - a New Job In A Techno Age, hmmmm. I am hunting the elusive 'NEWJITA'. I love acronyms!
Yes, the NEWJITA it is. I've identified the name of the prey, so now, how do I hunt it? What doe it look like? Where does it live? How do I track it? How do I capture it? Tame it, and make it work for me? These are the new questions as this Old-School Job Hunter enters the wilderness home of the Newjita.
So, let's look at my hunters kit, and see what I have to work with.
1) Desire to catch my prey - check.
2) Resume - with which to bait my prey - oooh, this thing looks stale, no one would bite on this, I will have to fix that.
3) Cover Letter - this is always a bit tricky and will have to be adjusted to the individual Newjita after I find its trail.
4) Hunting Attire - oh, man, when was the last time I wore THAT suit? These shoes? What's the saying, 'you can tell a lot about a man by his shoes'? Hair cut? Yeah, get one...Oh, and that 'I'm a rebel so I'm gonna grow a beard' look... I know, as fun as the thought has been, it's gotta go before I show up for an interview.
5) Hunting Method - I haven't been on a hunt in a long time, so I need to pow-wow with some of my colleagues and friends who have and get their take on this new prey, and how to catch and tame the wild Newjita.
Like any good hunter will tell you, you just don't throw your gear in the back of your truck and go, you must have a plan. You must understand the nature of the prey, the habitat in which it lives, how it behaves, and yes, even your limitations as a hunter.
Here is how my plan has come together so far.
I have updated my resume, prepared a couple different cover letters, cleaned up my suit and shoes, (scheduled) some grooming and pulled out the rollodex, no check that, the cell phone, to contact my fellow hunters.
The first thing I worked on is re-establishing as many contacts in my current and past job areas as I could, filling them in on what I have been up to and bringing them up to speed on my current situation. This process has taken place over several coffee sessions, a couple lunches and dozens of phone calls and facebook posts (I bet you were wondering when I would start linking technology to the hunt!). The end result was this - the methodology of the hunt has changed - catching a Newjita will be challenging for someone like me, who is bridging the gap between the old-school, snail-mail method of job hunting, to the new approach, involving the instantaneous world of electronic 'tracking' of the new prey.
I see the hunt as two pronged... My approach has been to spend several hours each day 'sniffing the winds' of the dozens (heck proably hundreds) of job-related sites on the internet. I enter information over and over, peruse the prospects that the search engines return. Next I prepare the bait -choose the right resume, include the right references, and attach the proper cover letter... I hit 'upload', and await the baited trap.
In the past week and a half or so I have repeated this process nigh on to 40-50 times. Attempting to lure prey from three or four different areas, using a variety of tracking and baiting skills. Now the hard part for any hunter....the waiting.
The second aspect is more old-school. Getting in my Jeep, driving around to the offices of my fellow successful hunters and putting them on the spot - I take a 'rush-the-cave' method here - put a fresh copy of my resume and business card directly in their hands.... you can't ignore, or hit the 'delete' button on a hand shake or someone standing at your office. To me that demonstrates the eagerness of the hunter, the hunger to track down the prey!
Though my blind for waiting out the appearance of the Newjita is MUCH more comfortable than any tree stand, duck blind and all but the most opulent of ice-houses - I sit in front of the computer, with my Columbian Coffee and a fresh bagel at hand - and I wait, like any good hunter, trying to not get cramped up (cooped up in the house), trying to stay attentive (I finally have all the time I need to catch up on shows on the DVR), or trying to stay awake (there is really not much preventing me from stretching out on the couch for a nice long nap)....waiting, waiting, waiting - for the first glimpse of the Newjita...
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Phase 3: Picking up The Pieces
Alright, so in the past we weeks I have experienced the Kick-To-The-Groin, the Shock-Reality and the Depression and Anxiety of losing a job. So, where do I go from here. There are several options.
1) Disappear - simply pack up, take what money I can, hit the road and never look back. Not a good idea.
2) Implode - I touched on that in my previous post. Crawling into a fatal addiction may make for a good movie plot, but again, for me, not a good idea.
3) Rise Again - I know, a bit biblical (and in no way am I comparing myself to Christ!), but given my upbringing (see my first post) the most likely and most sensible thing to do. But, not as easy an option as the first two may seem.
Where to start, what to do? Getting up in the morning seems the toughest part. Were it not for the desire to talk to my wife for a few minutes before she leaves, and the fact now, more than ever I have to get the kids up and to school, I would probably find myself joining my cats in their 20 hour a day sleep habit. At least when I am asleep, I don't seem to be troubled by the issues at hand.
O.K. so sleeping continually until a new job lands in my lap is not an option, so I had better start looking for another one.
Holy crap! When was the LAST time I even THOUGHT about looking for a job? When was the last time I looked at my resume? How do I write a cove letter? I barely even remember what to do.
Sitting at the computer, I realize that my resume isn't even ON this one..It's on a disc somewhere. I spend some time rummaging around my desk, find the disk, dust it off, load it and transfer the files.
Wow... 2005... the last time I opened this file. Amazing, it seems like an eternity. Before that 1996. Really, just tow jobs in the past 16 years? Is that a good thing, or a bad thing? I can't even begin to know. Looking closer of the 6 businesses I worked with over that time period only one, my most recent employer, still exist. And, looking at my references on this old resume is even more telling one of the four is dead and two of the remaining three have changed jobs at least once. Time to start over.
Staring out the window, wondering what to do, wondering, staring, like the CD in my computer, just spinning around - - then WHAM! I'm unemployed. The mortgage is due soon, so are the cell phone bills, the utilities... I need to do something!
Unemployment, unemployment -- oh, my God, I have to file for unemployment. How embarrassing, yet necessary, I know. The only saving grace is that I can file from home - thanks to the internet. No embarrassing lines, no stream of unending questions, no hours of explaining my situation, well at least not face to face, with an actual real person sitting across a gray metal desk, with that ever so caring 'I hope this one is quick, because I gotta pee' look on their face. So, I sit down, sign up, log-in and fill out the forms, click the buttons and wait for the money to appear in my checking account.....which, according to the site, could take 3-5 weeks to happen.
So, the week began. An old resume infront of me and a stack of printed out forms from the Unemployment office. The building blocks of my immediate future.
1) Disappear - simply pack up, take what money I can, hit the road and never look back. Not a good idea.
2) Implode - I touched on that in my previous post. Crawling into a fatal addiction may make for a good movie plot, but again, for me, not a good idea.
3) Rise Again - I know, a bit biblical (and in no way am I comparing myself to Christ!), but given my upbringing (see my first post) the most likely and most sensible thing to do. But, not as easy an option as the first two may seem.
Where to start, what to do? Getting up in the morning seems the toughest part. Were it not for the desire to talk to my wife for a few minutes before she leaves, and the fact now, more than ever I have to get the kids up and to school, I would probably find myself joining my cats in their 20 hour a day sleep habit. At least when I am asleep, I don't seem to be troubled by the issues at hand.
O.K. so sleeping continually until a new job lands in my lap is not an option, so I had better start looking for another one.
Holy crap! When was the LAST time I even THOUGHT about looking for a job? When was the last time I looked at my resume? How do I write a cove letter? I barely even remember what to do.
Sitting at the computer, I realize that my resume isn't even ON this one..It's on a disc somewhere. I spend some time rummaging around my desk, find the disk, dust it off, load it and transfer the files.
Wow... 2005... the last time I opened this file. Amazing, it seems like an eternity. Before that 1996. Really, just tow jobs in the past 16 years? Is that a good thing, or a bad thing? I can't even begin to know. Looking closer of the 6 businesses I worked with over that time period only one, my most recent employer, still exist. And, looking at my references on this old resume is even more telling one of the four is dead and two of the remaining three have changed jobs at least once. Time to start over.
Staring out the window, wondering what to do, wondering, staring, like the CD in my computer, just spinning around - - then WHAM! I'm unemployed. The mortgage is due soon, so are the cell phone bills, the utilities... I need to do something!
Unemployment, unemployment -- oh, my God, I have to file for unemployment. How embarrassing, yet necessary, I know. The only saving grace is that I can file from home - thanks to the internet. No embarrassing lines, no stream of unending questions, no hours of explaining my situation, well at least not face to face, with an actual real person sitting across a gray metal desk, with that ever so caring 'I hope this one is quick, because I gotta pee' look on their face. So, I sit down, sign up, log-in and fill out the forms, click the buttons and wait for the money to appear in my checking account.....which, according to the site, could take 3-5 weeks to happen.
So, the week began. An old resume infront of me and a stack of printed out forms from the Unemployment office. The building blocks of my immediate future.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Phase 2: Peering into the VOID...pulling back.
O.K. so, I recovered from the humiliating shot to the groin, dried the tears of worry and disbelief, and woke up on the other side.
As I spent the first few days of a the 'work-week' following losing my job, it's really hard to capture all that was going on.
The best place to start, I guess would be how feelings pop in and out of my mind, like some kind of AD/HD disorder. One second, I'm fine, the next;
WHAM the embarrassment (of being let go), pops into my mind. I push it back by trying to be active...I do some laundry.
WHAM the anger (at those involved in the decision). I push it back. I take the dogs for a walk.
SNAP the guilt (maybe I could have done more to keep my job). I go have coffee with a friend.
SMACK the worry (we still have bills to pay). I update my resume.
CRUSH the uncertainty (what the hell am I going to do next). I call my father-in-law for encouragement.
One thing I am discovering is that most of us, no matter how much we like or dislike our jobs, have a built in psychological tool that works both for and against us... I don't really have a name for it, but I am beginning to understand it's function. When we work, we focus on work, all the other stuff, all the concerns, problems, issues that are part of our non-work lives, disappear.
It seems silly, but being 'in-the-zone' at the job frees our minds from all of this stuff. Now, I am not saying this is good or bad, but when someone or some event takes that away from you, no RIPS it from you, you are left with a huge void. A chasm that was filled one minute and now is a gaping hole in your life. We don't often think of our jobs in this way, or at least I hadn't, until faced with this 8-10 hour gap in your daily life.
The funny thing is, the perception of this gap differs depending on who you talk to and what THEIR situation is. Here are a few examples of what has been said (I will change the names to proect the innocent!)
BILL - still employed at my old workplace: "Dude, you are sooo lucky. You don't have to deal with all the bull-shit anymore." - Despite everything, I LOVED working there.
MARTHA - doesn't work, her husband makes lots of money: "Wow, you must feel soooo free. You can sleep in all you want now!" - Uh, no. I still have kids to get to school, and need to hunt for a new job.
RALPH - has been unemployed for over 2 years: "It's not the end of the world, man. Now you can look around and find what you really want to do." - A nice sentiment, one that does offer some hope, but how can I do this AND pay my bills?
SALLY - mother of two, barely holding on to two jobs : "This must be awful. Do you think you'll be o.k.? How can I help?" - Suddenly I realize that the employment market in our area (and country) is pretty tight. What WILL I do?
After a couple days of this, I stand in front of the mirror. I question my worthiness on many levels; am I a good person? Why me? Am I a good father? Am I a good husband? Do I have the skills to get another job - any job? Will we have to sell our house? Will we have to move away from Toledo? Is it all worth it? Why do I continue to try? For that matter, why bother to go on living......
.....Yes, to be honest, ending it all has flashed passed my mind. In the darkest moments, when I can no longer find anything to counter the pain, or silence the voices in my head, all the ones filled with worry and anxiety they have been there. This is probably one of the hardest things about being unemployed, the ease to which you can slip into these 'dark-zones'.
As I spent several mornings and afternoons, driving around town, reconnecting with friends, dropping off resumes, calling in old markers, anything to try to find work. I found my self suddenly paying attention to the people on the streets. Stereotypes aside, I create mental life-stories in my head for the guy with the scraggly beard and the worn out doubled up shopping bags containing, clearly a bottle of Wild Irish Rose and what look like socks. Or, as I pass the Rescue Mission, I see an old woman and a man, sharing a cigarette, while hovering over their pile of belongings. I wonder, 'How far am I from that?'.
In my mind, and in my heart, I can see just how easy it would be to give up. To just say, 'The hell with it!' and drop away from family and friends, and just drift away, becoming one of 'them'. I see how easy it is for people to crawl into a bottle or into a crack pipe. But I was not raised that way.
Like it or not, for better or worse, I have the voice of my Dad in my head, and the support of family and friends, who in all honesty, probably see my situation much more clearly than I imagine. I pull away from those dark places and try to move on.
So, I pull back into the driveway. Go in the house, tussle with the dogs for a minute, and then sit down to do one of the most personally embarrassing things I have ever done in my life - I file for unemployment.
As I sit at the keyboard, with the image of my Dad, shaking his head as he watches me, I fill out the forms. I know this will be vital to keeping things going as I continue to look for work.
I have spent enough time with misery and guilt, and all the other things mentioned above and now it is time to once again, stand up, shake it off and move on.
I know now, that I am still alive! I still have people I care about and who need me. I have skills that will allow me to get a job! I still have a home to come home to, kids that still think I'm the best, a wife that understands the situation, and is my rock. And, to top it all off, two dogs and even one cat that know only that I am home, and they love me in the blind way only pets can!
So I will pick up the leashes, grab the dogs and go take walk in the sunshine. Time to formulate a new plan. One for moving on.
As I spent the first few days of a the 'work-week' following losing my job, it's really hard to capture all that was going on.
The best place to start, I guess would be how feelings pop in and out of my mind, like some kind of AD/HD disorder. One second, I'm fine, the next;
WHAM the embarrassment (of being let go), pops into my mind. I push it back by trying to be active...I do some laundry.
WHAM the anger (at those involved in the decision). I push it back. I take the dogs for a walk.
SNAP the guilt (maybe I could have done more to keep my job). I go have coffee with a friend.
SMACK the worry (we still have bills to pay). I update my resume.
CRUSH the uncertainty (what the hell am I going to do next). I call my father-in-law for encouragement.
One thing I am discovering is that most of us, no matter how much we like or dislike our jobs, have a built in psychological tool that works both for and against us... I don't really have a name for it, but I am beginning to understand it's function. When we work, we focus on work, all the other stuff, all the concerns, problems, issues that are part of our non-work lives, disappear.
It seems silly, but being 'in-the-zone' at the job frees our minds from all of this stuff. Now, I am not saying this is good or bad, but when someone or some event takes that away from you, no RIPS it from you, you are left with a huge void. A chasm that was filled one minute and now is a gaping hole in your life. We don't often think of our jobs in this way, or at least I hadn't, until faced with this 8-10 hour gap in your daily life.
The funny thing is, the perception of this gap differs depending on who you talk to and what THEIR situation is. Here are a few examples of what has been said (I will change the names to proect the innocent!)
BILL - still employed at my old workplace: "Dude, you are sooo lucky. You don't have to deal with all the bull-shit anymore." - Despite everything, I LOVED working there.
MARTHA - doesn't work, her husband makes lots of money: "Wow, you must feel soooo free. You can sleep in all you want now!" - Uh, no. I still have kids to get to school, and need to hunt for a new job.
RALPH - has been unemployed for over 2 years: "It's not the end of the world, man. Now you can look around and find what you really want to do." - A nice sentiment, one that does offer some hope, but how can I do this AND pay my bills?
SALLY - mother of two, barely holding on to two jobs : "This must be awful. Do you think you'll be o.k.? How can I help?" - Suddenly I realize that the employment market in our area (and country) is pretty tight. What WILL I do?
After a couple days of this, I stand in front of the mirror. I question my worthiness on many levels; am I a good person? Why me? Am I a good father? Am I a good husband? Do I have the skills to get another job - any job? Will we have to sell our house? Will we have to move away from Toledo? Is it all worth it? Why do I continue to try? For that matter, why bother to go on living......
.....Yes, to be honest, ending it all has flashed passed my mind. In the darkest moments, when I can no longer find anything to counter the pain, or silence the voices in my head, all the ones filled with worry and anxiety they have been there. This is probably one of the hardest things about being unemployed, the ease to which you can slip into these 'dark-zones'.
As I spent several mornings and afternoons, driving around town, reconnecting with friends, dropping off resumes, calling in old markers, anything to try to find work. I found my self suddenly paying attention to the people on the streets. Stereotypes aside, I create mental life-stories in my head for the guy with the scraggly beard and the worn out doubled up shopping bags containing, clearly a bottle of Wild Irish Rose and what look like socks. Or, as I pass the Rescue Mission, I see an old woman and a man, sharing a cigarette, while hovering over their pile of belongings. I wonder, 'How far am I from that?'.
In my mind, and in my heart, I can see just how easy it would be to give up. To just say, 'The hell with it!' and drop away from family and friends, and just drift away, becoming one of 'them'. I see how easy it is for people to crawl into a bottle or into a crack pipe. But I was not raised that way.
Like it or not, for better or worse, I have the voice of my Dad in my head, and the support of family and friends, who in all honesty, probably see my situation much more clearly than I imagine. I pull away from those dark places and try to move on.
So, I pull back into the driveway. Go in the house, tussle with the dogs for a minute, and then sit down to do one of the most personally embarrassing things I have ever done in my life - I file for unemployment.
As I sit at the keyboard, with the image of my Dad, shaking his head as he watches me, I fill out the forms. I know this will be vital to keeping things going as I continue to look for work.
I have spent enough time with misery and guilt, and all the other things mentioned above and now it is time to once again, stand up, shake it off and move on.
I know now, that I am still alive! I still have people I care about and who need me. I have skills that will allow me to get a job! I still have a home to come home to, kids that still think I'm the best, a wife that understands the situation, and is my rock. And, to top it all off, two dogs and even one cat that know only that I am home, and they love me in the blind way only pets can!
So I will pick up the leashes, grab the dogs and go take walk in the sunshine. Time to formulate a new plan. One for moving on.
Monday, March 1, 2010
Phase 1: The After Shock
Alright, what comes next in the world of the unemployed? Or at least for me? The mind-numbing moments following the delivery of the 'letter' went by in kind of a blurr.
A mad scramble to find enough boxes to move out over 5 years of stuff from my office - all the time deciding, "Is this mine? Does this belong to the company?" While I did a good job (mostly) of holding back the tears as I dealt with the fact of being released, not, according to my employer because they were unhappy with my work, or didn't like me as a person, and not because I did anything wrong. But, rather that my 'skills no longer lived up to the needs of the position'. In effect they suddenly felt I was not smart enough to keep doing my job.
The ridiculousness of is just too mind boggling to comprehend, particularly since not a week earlier I had passed an important certification exam, which, by its very nature, verified that, in fact, I WAS qualified to continue? Did I still need more training, sure, but again, I was SUPPOSEDLY on a professional development track - established and agreed upon between my company and I that should have filled in any perceived gaps in my ability.
So, there I was, packing, confused, boxing up coffee maker and mugs, photographs, posters, books, papers, equipment, lamps, plants, everything that one amasses over a long employment. The way these things are handled is nearly inhuman, and at the very least degrading. Apparently ALL 'terminations' are 'immediate' - no chance to say goodbye to colleagues, no two weeks to move out... It's like a forced eviction - get your stuff out now. Period. Oh, and the whole process is watch-dogged by another employee (who is a friend - so it's not something he wanted to do either). All so that I don't walk out the door with an extra pack of sticky-notes, or hand full of pens. I guess I should be happy that they let me go on a day when there was little traffic in the building - saved even more humiliation and made for fewer conversations about what just happened.
So, I drive home, alone, numb, having not even told my wife, or kids about the situation, wondering how the hell I was going to do that. A huge problem existed in this regard. I was let go on a Friday and our company had weekend long event that required my family to both attend and be involved in the event. I made up my mind to tell my wife, of course, right away that afternoon, but to let the kids do their part for the event and wait until the weekend before breaking the news.
The weekend went by, it was very difficult, because all of the 'players' directly involved in my release were present. I could see the agony in my wifes' face, I could see the confusion in the faces of my co-workers (who were informed by memo Friday afternoon-they seem to have wasted no time in announcing my departure). What was hardest for me was enduring all the, comfort hugs and hand shakes, and whispers about the injustice of the situation, and well wishing and hope for the future. Sincere support, but at that time the shock just made it seem shallow - and tinged with a touch of relief that it wasn't THEM that had been released.
This brings us to Sunday. Black Sunday, and oddly enough Valentines Day (wee-ha!). Earlier that day I had shared the news with my oldest, he took it with nearly the same shock and disbelief that I did. Sitting in our living room, surrounded by my wife, my oldest and the youngest on the couch. I broke the news. Trying to make an 11 year old understand the gravity of the situation. It was not pretty. There were tears and hugs around the room. The uncertainty of the situation was talked about. More tears. The whys and what happeneds were discussed. More tears. Finally, a long, painful, silence, punctuated with sobs. Everyone went to bed. On the way to bed, my youngest kind of summed everything up, in his own special way,
"Dad?" he said,
"Yes, what is it?" I answered.
"Why do people have to be so mean?"
"I don't know." I answered as I gave him another hug.
"Dad?"
"Yes."
"I still love you. And, don't forget you're the best Dad in the world!"
Choking back nearly as many tears as when I was released, I hugged him tighter, "Thanks, honey. Now, go to bed."
I guess as the day ended and the situation had turned from baffling, almost ethereal disbelief that it was all a bad dream, to the cold hard smack of reality that I was now jobless. Had begun to sink in.
A mad scramble to find enough boxes to move out over 5 years of stuff from my office - all the time deciding, "Is this mine? Does this belong to the company?" While I did a good job (mostly) of holding back the tears as I dealt with the fact of being released, not, according to my employer because they were unhappy with my work, or didn't like me as a person, and not because I did anything wrong. But, rather that my 'skills no longer lived up to the needs of the position'. In effect they suddenly felt I was not smart enough to keep doing my job.
The ridiculousness of is just too mind boggling to comprehend, particularly since not a week earlier I had passed an important certification exam, which, by its very nature, verified that, in fact, I WAS qualified to continue? Did I still need more training, sure, but again, I was SUPPOSEDLY on a professional development track - established and agreed upon between my company and I that should have filled in any perceived gaps in my ability.
So, there I was, packing, confused, boxing up coffee maker and mugs, photographs, posters, books, papers, equipment, lamps, plants, everything that one amasses over a long employment. The way these things are handled is nearly inhuman, and at the very least degrading. Apparently ALL 'terminations' are 'immediate' - no chance to say goodbye to colleagues, no two weeks to move out... It's like a forced eviction - get your stuff out now. Period. Oh, and the whole process is watch-dogged by another employee (who is a friend - so it's not something he wanted to do either). All so that I don't walk out the door with an extra pack of sticky-notes, or hand full of pens. I guess I should be happy that they let me go on a day when there was little traffic in the building - saved even more humiliation and made for fewer conversations about what just happened.
So, I drive home, alone, numb, having not even told my wife, or kids about the situation, wondering how the hell I was going to do that. A huge problem existed in this regard. I was let go on a Friday and our company had weekend long event that required my family to both attend and be involved in the event. I made up my mind to tell my wife, of course, right away that afternoon, but to let the kids do their part for the event and wait until the weekend before breaking the news.
The weekend went by, it was very difficult, because all of the 'players' directly involved in my release were present. I could see the agony in my wifes' face, I could see the confusion in the faces of my co-workers (who were informed by memo Friday afternoon-they seem to have wasted no time in announcing my departure). What was hardest for me was enduring all the, comfort hugs and hand shakes, and whispers about the injustice of the situation, and well wishing and hope for the future. Sincere support, but at that time the shock just made it seem shallow - and tinged with a touch of relief that it wasn't THEM that had been released.
This brings us to Sunday. Black Sunday, and oddly enough Valentines Day (wee-ha!). Earlier that day I had shared the news with my oldest, he took it with nearly the same shock and disbelief that I did. Sitting in our living room, surrounded by my wife, my oldest and the youngest on the couch. I broke the news. Trying to make an 11 year old understand the gravity of the situation. It was not pretty. There were tears and hugs around the room. The uncertainty of the situation was talked about. More tears. The whys and what happeneds were discussed. More tears. Finally, a long, painful, silence, punctuated with sobs. Everyone went to bed. On the way to bed, my youngest kind of summed everything up, in his own special way,
"Dad?" he said,
"Yes, what is it?" I answered.
"Why do people have to be so mean?"
"I don't know." I answered as I gave him another hug.
"Dad?"
"Yes."
"I still love you. And, don't forget you're the best Dad in the world!"
Choking back nearly as many tears as when I was released, I hugged him tighter, "Thanks, honey. Now, go to bed."
I guess as the day ended and the situation had turned from baffling, almost ethereal disbelief that it was all a bad dream, to the cold hard smack of reality that I was now jobless. Had begun to sink in.
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