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....
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