Saturday, December 24, 2011

Coping and moving on

I have to say, it's a little unbelievable that after 5.5 years of unwavering support and hard work, my company decided to end my position the week of Christmas. It sounds like the beginning of a bad joke, or maybe the beginning of a sad but hopeful Christmas movie.

What I'm trying for here, though, is the hopeful without the sad. I've never been let go before, so I don't know how I'm supposed to behave. But by people checking in on me I gather I haven't been as sad or panicked as I'm meant to be. Don't get me wrong, I'm not happy about the way this happened, or the position it's left me in. And I'm way scared about money. But there's a way to look at this like it's a break-up that needed to happen.

I've been thinking a lot about my break-ups lately and how they usually send me into a spiral of near paralyzing depression and bring up every judgement and feeling of worthlessness I have. That in turn drives me to curl up on my couch feeling alone and numb. That, in turn, means I don't work out, and sooner rather than later I find myself consuming a whole frozen pizza or two bowls of popcorn. Or both. And then, when the faucet gets turned back on to my emotions what first comes streaming out is those same judgements and feelings of being lower than low and not worth anything better. And the band plays on.

Well, here is what has happened this week, pretty much in this order:

  • I was let go
    • I told my mom and posted on Facebook
    • I texted my five best friends (and didn't text the fifth because she just had a baby)
    • I freaked out and cried for about an hour, and called my therapist
    • My longest-running best friend called me (it's good to have someone who has known you for over 30 years and still loves you!)
    • Then I decided to go about my day and week.

    I've been to Garden of the Gods with my mom, to a movie, and to the gym. I had the friends over I was planning on having over that night, and we played a hilarious game and ate really good soup and crab dip. I drank several beers.

    Don't get me wrong, there have been some tough thoughts about money, about packing up my office, about the way this was handled, and there have been some frantic moments of "Must update my Linkedin profile NOW," and resumes, and job searches, and anxious thoughts about unemployment and part-time work.

    But there haven't been any dark moments on the couch. Or in the shower. Or in this chair.

    Usually in a relationship, I'm the person getting dumped, left, or abandoned. I wait, and I stay, and I see the good in someone, and I hope and try and believe in loyalty. And so when things aren't working, I usually want to do anything but STOP and break up. Consequently, when things need to end, it's on the other person to end it. So, I shouldn't be surprised that in the relationship that was taking up all my waking hours, they had to break up with me and find the door for me. In the end, that part of getting let go is just like getting dumped.

    What's interestingly different is that in every break-up, in every other case where I've been left, I've been mad and resentful but also worried in a deep-down place that I don't acknowledge often that it was somehow my fault. That if I had had that fight differently, that if I had talked about my goals or needs differently, that if I had needed less . . . that if SOMETHING about me had been different that person would be there. To hold myself to the highest level of honesty, I do have to admit I've had a few wandering thoughts of, "If I had volunteered for ___" but then immediately I think, "NO." I am sure this was not about my performance on the job, and equally sure it is not about my results. Knowing that means I don't have to worry I did this somehow. It means I don't have to claim blame.

    This means I'm not feeling I have to heal too much from this loss. So, I took a couple of days to enjoy my mom's visit, and that meant I took a brief sabbatical from the gym (and returned hard-core today). and we've eaten out some. And I had more than my fair share of beer on Tuesday . . . which I feel I can do because I know I can NOT do it and be ok.

    But here's an interesting thing. Despite what I would consider a normal amount of "Mom is visiting from out of town" interruption to my eating, imbibing, and working out plans, I lost a pound this week.
    So, I'm going to make a prediction to you all - If I don't fall into the trap of cheap, bad-for-us-all food that many Americans who struggle with money do, my guess is that while pounds won't fly off of me in 2012, the inexplicable wall keeping me from progressing may have been knocked down by this event. I have had concerns for years that this job was holding me back so . . . here it is. Nothing else is holding me back now!

    I'm sure there will be panic and anxiety in the weeks to come, and moments of self-doubt. But in this moment, I am grateful for the opportunity to reinvent myself in the new year. And I am beyond grateful for the friends I have. I've had two offers of part-time work, three friends who forwarded me job opportunities within 48 hours, friends who have offered to put my resume in the hands of contacts or practice interviews with me, and friends who have offered to put me up. Wow. What a gift to know I am this loved in the week when everyone is usually hunkering down and focusing on their own immediate families.

    I'll tell you what I'd like to do - I'd like to write this blog professionally. Any takers? any independently wealthy readers who want to fund that? With benefits? Anyone? Bueller?

    No. Ok. Well then, I guess it's a good thing I already started on my applications for these five jobs people forwarded to me.

    Tomorrow, though, I wish for this for you all on Christmas: may everyone think for a moment about what they have, and if it is what they want or signed up for. If it is, be grateful for the frustrations, hard times, and disappointments, as they make it possible for the good times to shine brighter. Whatever it is you have in your life - children, job, partner, house, goals, dreams, talents, love, strength, a business to run, a dissertation to write. If it's not what you need, then be grateful for the door you will come to when you leave it. And give love to the person next to you. Though there is some doubt to the actual correct birth date of Jesus, and though I still have some questions about what belief in his word means to me, his message is one of love and of sharing love and acceptance. I believe in that.

    We celebrate Martin Luther King's birthday on a convenient date for the calendar, so why not this? So love on each other today and tomorrow, and see how long you can keep it going. (So sorry to be majorly mushy. I've just had a really strange week that has presented to me over and over how blessed I am to be so loved by so many wonderous people so I'm trying to spread it.)

    Tuesday, December 20, 2011

    Loss

    I have all kinds of posts I've been writing and working on for a week or more that should be getting my time and attention but I'm bypassing that for today.

    Today I was asked to attend a phone meeting with my supervisor at 9am. The agenda set forth for the meeting was, "Priorities for next year." Instead he asked about the very complicated project I completed yesterday, and then asked me to hold while he dialed someone else onto the line. It turned out it was HR getting on the phone to handle a conversation about the dissolution of my position and the terms of my limited severance.

    So, there it is. Jobless for the first time since I was 14 years old. There was a brief stint during my first semester of grad school before I had gotten wise to the ways of picking up extra money from my university (teaching and tutoring), but really. I've haven't been unemployed since before I was too young to be employed. I have always earned my own way and taken care of myself since I can remember.

    This is a weird feeling. I'd like to not be working due to a better reason. Like babies to care for. Or winning the lottery :)

    Instead, my job is just gone. It seems this is through no fault of my own, but it is hard not to take it personally when it comes at this time of year and after all my hard work. I think in the end, the company is going through a lot of change and I was exfoliated during that process.

    In truth, I am not sad about the job. I had outgrown it some time ago and no longer felt I was being challenged, growing, or being fully appreciated. In that sense, this is an opportunity. My therapist was fairly dancing as he coached me through this and saying, "I'm sorry, I can't help but be excited about this! I think this is such a great opportunity to be grateful for." I agree with him in the thinking about the job. He is right. It is time to find a better fit. It is time to keep growing. It's time to stop holding myself back because I'm afraid to give up what's comfortable for what might be better; what might be ecstatically happy.

    On the other hand, I know people who have looked and looked and looked. One of them lived in my mom's basement for far longer than was good for either of them. I am not sorry about the job. I'm scared about the paycheck. I posted on facebook this morning, "I just lost my job." and this afternoon I posted, "Sometimes change is chaotic, scary, and handled badly. Sometimes it's an opening. This will be both I think." The later is perhaps the more deeply honest statement. There is an opportunity here, but there is also some real damage in how it came about. Isn't there a Hindu Goddess that is in charge of both? That paves the way for change by tearing the walls down? I have her on my mind today.

    Since judging myself is the thing I DO it is very hard work not to make this a judgement about me being a bad person, a poor worker, or in some other way my fault. I am working really hard to breathe through that and am very lucky to have amazing support from just droves of people who love me and help shine my light a little brighter. Some amazing special mentions (thought I've had all kinds of calls, texts, and facebooks and couldn't possibly mention everyone. But thank you!) go to my mom for helping to keep things at an even keel today, to my bestie Rob for calling right away and listening to my messy thoughts, to my other bestie David for putting words to my anger when I couldn't, to my brother for being quietly supportive, to my lovely best girlfriend for calling me immediately despite having a nursing baby to care for, to my therapist for helping me breathe through my initial hour of reaction, to my dear friend Wil for starting to forward me job search ideas right away, and to all my ladies who are coming over tonight to surround me with laughter and beer. Probably the best medicine for this day.

    Tomorrow I will ship my computer and cell phone and next month someone will come to clean out my office. So be it.

    I will get there and start thinking of this as a good thing. Maybe not today though.

    In the meantime this quote from someone talking about felting and making beauty and art out of what you're doing applies today, and thanks to Wil for this," You have to know how to use the accident, how to recognize it, how to control it and ways to eliminate it so that the whole surface looks felt and born all at once." -- Helen Frankenthaler '49

    Sunday, December 18, 2011

    Putting myself first

    On the mirror in my bathroom it says, "Make yourself a priority." There are also various sticky notes in various places that say things like, "This appointment is just as important as every other you make," and "Commit to yourself."

    And yet, it's really easy for me to think, Hi, you. the laundry needs to be folded and there is more wrapping and cleaning before mom gets here. Or, Mom is here! It's rude to go to the gym while she reads a book!

    Yesterday, mom chose not to go to the gym with me, knowing I'd be gone for at least three hours (running, swimming laps, and then working with a friend plus a shower take up a solid chunk of time). It was her choice. When I texted my friend that Mom wouldn't be joining us she immediately said, "I don't want to take time away from your mom." and I get that. I don't want to take time away from my mom either. But the truth is, wherever I am, I have to be willing to put time into this process every day. If I'm traveling for work, I still have to try and eat right and get up early to exercise. If I go to India, which is a dream I have (and where one of my client's mothers apparently gives her head massages and brings her tea every morning, I recently found out), I will have to walk and make sure I get plenty of protein and vegetables. If I was at my mom's house, I would have to fight to find the time for cardio every day. So, if she's at my house, the same rules apply.

    It took reaching down to pull up on my sense of personal responsibility and my desire to work on my goals to text my friend back and say, "I really want to swim. No one else is going to get my cardio done for me."

    It feels . . . selfish to me to put myself first. It's a new experience. I've always been asked to put others first. As a caretaker in my family, my needs were always subservient to those of others, and expressing them was always received badly. And so that is the space I learned to occupy in the world. I see it in all my past relationships, in how work expands and fills more of my week than it should, in everything I've sacrificed to be where I am. Saying no is always hard for me, unless I'm saying no to the voice that says, "Get your workout done. And while you're at it, eat some broccoli instead of some popcorn."

    But the truth is, no one will work out for me. My job will not take responsibility for the weight their crazy schedule and too-high expectations caused me to gain 4 years ago. My mom can't eat broccoli for me or take popcorn away from me. And if not everyone can understand that I can work out 6 days a week, 5-7 hours a week, and eat everything right, and still get minimal results, then the least I can do is to understand it and act on it. Compassion to myself means knowing the scale won't always move even if I do what I'm supposed to, but it also means lovingly getting my butt out of the seat and to the gym. Loving myself means forgiving the bowl of popcorn for dinner but also trying to do better the next day and pack my protein and veggie lunch to take with me on the road. Patience is a gift I can give myself by not judging how slow my results are, but also by planning for the long haul and knowing that taking the long view means owning that working out this much or more will be my life forever.

    I have a lot of understanding, compassion, love, and patience to give other people. I tend to have endless supplies even when times may be really hard for me or when I may be angry with another person. I need to learn to apply some of it to myself. Because the truth is that if my metabolism and hormones fight even my best efforts, then putting in less than my absolute max will serve me not at all. And the other hard truth is that if things are this hard now in my 30's, my elder years will only get worse. Without work and discipline and giving myself enough love and time I could easily become a 500 pound woman that needs to be cut out of her house. I don't think I'm exaggerating to say that.

    It took alllllllllll yeaaaaaaar to get to the point where my gym schedule orbits cleanly through my other obligations. Even now there are little hops and skips when I'm sick or traveling. The difference between now and a year ago is that now if the record skips, I know how to bring the needle back down to play through. A year ago, missing one workout usually was the beginning of a long string of missed workouts. Now I know that if it is missed I must get back up on the horse the next day before I find myself on a slippery slope, and ideally, "make up" the missed workout. (This is a little like doing extra-homework to catch up when I was out of school for pneumonia in elementary school.) My workouts now matter to me in a different way than they did. I know that without them I will feel less pleased with myself, regardless of the scale or my jean size. I know I will have more stress. I know I will tend towards more depression. I know what my workouts give me. Which is why there is also a sticky note in my house that says, "It will feel good AFTER you go." That is a true story. Before walking out the door, it'd be my pleasure to stay on the couch reading. After going to the gym I know I will feel more productive, happier, more energetic.

    There's another result of working out: I have discovered it directly effects how well I eat. You'd think that working out and being hungry from it could lead me to fries and Cheezits, but it has the opposite effect. I come home from a work out determined to eat my brussel sprouts and chicken, and further, to plan and pack an awesome lunch for the next day. And here's the truth - while I could eat nachos and pizza all day long, I really do like brussel sprouts and chicken. So, if I know I like them, and feel better eating them, then why not do the thing that leads me to eat those things more and let go of the pizza and nachos. It turns out, shopping differently (ignore that Cheezits exist! There is no aisle 5!) and cooking the brussels and the chicken are just preliminary steps. The thing I really need to do is go to the gym and strengthen not just my lats and hamstrings, not just my core and abs, but also my resolve. So, I go. sometimes it feels like I'm dragging myself there by the ear, like a child who has sassed a crabby grandmother, but so be it.

    So, I went to the gym yesterday, and it was so good to know I had done it and met my goals for the week. and as my mom naps on the couch this morning, I will continue to get ready to meet my trainer. It's what has to get done in order for everything else to line up as it should. I still have to make myself do it often, but I can see the day where it will make sense for it to be just as natural and expected as brushing my teeth. Off I go!