Recruited

So, I started working with a recruiter this week. This is a strange experience for me. I've never NOT gotten jobs that I've applied for, never been unemployed, and in fact, what used to happen is that I would get offered jobs before I really had thought about applying for them. I had a series of jobs that evolved this way, and some of them I held for years. So, the stark reality that I've now been unemployed for coming up on three months is a little startling for me.

When offered the chance to work with a recruiter, I immediately thought, "Ummmm, no. I'm good." But if I'm being honest, I've done really well getting myself some interviews; better even than most in this economy. But, it's been three months, and I haven't closed an offer. And here's why - I have a lot of skills, but may not posses a lot of experience in negotiating. I can do full splits, train the heck out of someone on something that is killer boring and make them laugh while doing it, and make some out of this world black bean soup. But negotiating my worth is completely foreign to me.

This office specializes with helping people who want to make a career change, re-packaging skills and experience, and helping people haggle their offers, without making it seem like they're greasy-car-salesmanning their way through it. I need this.

It's funny how I wrote unabashedly about being someone who needs a lot of professional help. I don't hesitate to pay for my pants to get hemmed, because I cannot do that with any degree of even pretending to get a good finished product. I didn't think twice about emailing my therapist today to make an appointment for next week. So, why the stigma about working with someone who does this for a living? I am someone with short legs, so I need hemmed pants. I am someone who wants to process my life and be healthier, so I log hours on the therapy couch. I am someone who wants to get a job, so why shouldn't I spend time with a recruiter who is a professional job-getter?

I think this whole thing feels so amazingly singularly defining, that my brain somehow can't process that it relates to other things I've walked through. I think somehow the lessons I've learned don't apply. When I was training for my black belt test, there were things I could do on my own, and things I couldn't. I put myself on a serious regimen of conditioning 3-4 hours a week, in addition to my classes and running. I worked on my essay for months. But I couldn't tailor my Gi (uniform) without taking it to someone, I couldn't spar without a partner, and I asked one fellow instructor to do an hour of additional sparring with me every week, and another instructor to work mitts with me every week. I couldn't have gotten there on my own, and my essay reflected that. So, expecting the multi-faceted challenge of job searching and applying to include only tasks I can excel at by myself, at my kitchen table is probably not the best perspective.

Now, before everyone jumps to tell me their good or bad experiences with a recruiter, you have to all know that I was very deliberate and cautious in making this decision. I spent two weeks talking to them, talked to almost all of their staff, talked to former clients, got their placement stats for the last year (because I wanted to focus on information pertinent to the economy and the recent market), stats for people in my pay range, and stats for people in my age range. I did my own re-con on their results, and compared them with results for other recruiting groups. None of this negates the tinge of anxiety I feel about handing some of this over to someone else; but the bigger thing for me is that I can't keep doing this by myself and feeling like I don't know what I'm doing well and what I'm missing.

I admitted to a couple of people that while significant pressure would not have induced me to say this, I needed the time not working in January and February. I needed time to re-center, to focus on what's important, to get the expectations and disappointments of my last employer out of my system. But, now it's the third month, and I'm DONE. I'm done second guessing myself, I'm done going on bad interviews. I'm done networking and applying my way into jobs where the employer hasn't decided what they can budget for the position, or ones who are making a nod at an external search when they are already certain they are filling it internally. I'm done not being sure what else I should be doing. It's go time.

What's ironic about all of this, is that after spending two months writing, and walking, and praying, and meditating, processing, rationalizing, and shoring up my self-esteem, and then, abandoning trying to renovate that part of my life in favor of building a whole new foundation and housing my self-esteem inside of that . . . After all of this, the first thing the recruiting team asked me to do is fill out a lengthy survey about my successes, goals, skills, and work experience. No brainer, right? But the second part of the survey was about what motivates and excites me (I resisted the urge to just cut and paste the URL for this blog as answer to those queries), and what tangible results I garnered in my last job.

I worked on this survey for about 10-12 hours. Over the span of 60 hours. I wrote 35 pages. THIRTY.FIVE.

I gather it usually takes most people a bit longer on this, so I am grateful to the people in my network and in my support system who pushed me to define my thoughts about a perfect job, about what I'm enthusiastic about, and defining deal-breakers and wish lists earlier. I was able to quickly synthesize thoughts and feelings and information I had gathered before and complete those parts of the survey pretty expeditiously.


What was hard for me was writing about all of my results, quantitative and qualitative. I went into that part with about 4 things in mind. As I went down the list, four more came out of my typing fingers, almost without my thought. Then five more. And on, and on until I had collected close to 30.

And then I was. so. angry.

After writing all of this, I talked with a friend. And realized, there was about 3% of anger directed towards the people who overlooked my significant contributions. And 97% of regret and bitterness towards myself . . . how could I give so much? How could I do it so blindly without regard for what was good for me and what I was appreciated for? How could I do it for so long, unhappily, plugging away pulling together more and more results, and all the while being less and less satisfied?

And then, it hit me.

I finished the survey. And I read back over it, and saw all I had done, felt, accomplished, was motivated by, and was disappointed by. And it washed over me. And I was completely overwhelmed, and disheartened.

I sent off the survey, meanwhile kicking myself. It didn't matter that I had walked for over an hour that morning, followed by some really clarifying meditation, I was able to speak up (type up?) and say,
"After that I need to go clear my head." So, I went and walked for another hour, followed by cooking for 2. Thusly, the Christie processes, moves towards acceptance, and sees a glimmer of peace off in the distance.

This wouldn't have happened six months ago. I would have been upset, or demotivated, or disheartened or disappointed by whatever, and then just gone onto the next thing on my list without consideration for my all-rightness, without processing even where I was or the fact that I was feeling less than good. Which probably means I was less than alright often.

None of that is good, but if it lead me to a place where I can see that I need help, where I can take advantage of help that is being offered (be it a walk with a friend, therapy, working with a recruiter), and where I am in a position to assess what I need in the moment, and then do it . . . then it's ok that I did what I did to get to this place. I have to forgive myself for the hole I let myself fall down, because getting out of the hole is so powerful and has created so much healthy momentum for me as I climb up.

And that's all for today. I could go on and on, but, I think what this means is that I am ready not just to tear it up in a new job, but to give my best to myself in the new career and lifestyle I discover. And so, with some luck, or effort, or help, or mad recruitment up in here, let's all believe that can happen soon.

faith vs. confidence

Dictionary definition: Faith - noun

1. confidence or trust in a person or thing: faith in another's ability.

2. belief that is not based on proof: He had faith that the hypothesis would be substantiated by fact.

3. belief in God or in the doctrines or teachings of religionr: the firm faith of the Pilgrims.

4. belief in anything, as a code of ethics, standards of merit, etc.: to be of the same faith with someone concerning honesty.

5. a system of religious belief: the Christian faith; the Jewish faith.

Dictionary Definition: Confidence - noun

1. a feeling of trust in a person or thing: I have confidence in his abilities 

2.  belief in one's own abilities; self-assurance 

3.  trust or a trustful relationship: take me into your confidence 

4.  something confided or entrusted; secret 

5. in confidence, as a secret


So, I went on a date last night. Let me just say that dating in general is pretty strange for me. And if you had asked me 5 years ago what dating would look like for me in my mid-30's I would have . . . well, first I would have shook my head, bewildered and thought, "Ummm, I won't be dating 5 years from now. I will be done with all of that by then." But I also wouldn't have predicted that dating in my mid-30's is surprising in that the things that were complicated when I was dating in my 20's have completely evaporated, and yet, there are things about being a real grown up that make dating really, really intriguingly not simple. I'm no longer running around drunk with a crew of friends, making out with inappropriate people, but I'm also subject to scrutiny on parts of my life that were never discussed in the dating situations I was in 5 years ago. It's pretty fascinating.

Add to it all that at this moment when I'm out being social, date or not, the typical getting-to-know you questions still apply. Someone always, always asks, "So, what do you do?" My first taste of this was at my annual New Year's gathering where a lovely new friend said, "So, what do you do?" and I leaned forward and slyly said," So glad you asked! I'm unemployed as of a week ago!" He's a smartie, that one, and said, "Let me re-phrase - what were you doing around Thanksgiving?" Chortle.

I have many potential answers to this question stored in my head. "I am currently a human resources specialist - my specialty is trying to find a match between my human resources and a job." " I am a professional interviewee." "I've gotten REALLY good at keeping up with my laundry." "I am a house-non-wife." "I work from home." In practice, I try not to be sarcastic. In this situation, that would make it seem as if I was spackling over some bitterness or fear, neither of which I feel too often. But, those answers all do run through my head when someone asks the inevitable, because I'm aware that there are assumptions about the unemployed that could be made. I don't necessarily assume that people are assuming those things about me and my unemployment, but I do know that there are people who might assume I got fired for cause, am lazy, did something wrong in order to be in this position, etc.

So, while on this date last night I found myself discussing my unemployment and trying not to sound too rainbows-and-butterflies while honestly saying how good it has been for me. He seemed to buy it so I was able to say, "You know, I have scary moments, but a lot fewer of them these days. I have a lot of faith that this was for a reason and that I'll be employed doing something interesting soon." He answered, commenting, "Is it that you have faith, or that you have confidence in your abilities being able to land you a job soon?" I could have taken that almost rhetorically, but because this life change has been so immense, so moving, and so eye-opening in areas of my life I couldn't have predicted as I was being let go on December 20th, it was important to me to say, "I do have confidence. But for me, right now, it really is that I have faith. I have a real feeling, with each interview, that I can see the picture of what is coming starting to form and that whatever it is is arriving soon."

My favorite explanation of faith actually comes from the Bible - go figure! I know! - which is not really usually my deal.

"faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." Hebrews 11:1

I'm interested that in the dictionary definitions for both faith and confidence the words trust and belief are used. (As a linguist, I've often taught undergrads that when thinking about the dictionary in the brain, or the lexicon, it's not enough to consider only a word's definition, because all words are defined in terms of other words. It becomes circular very quickly. So, there's a lot of evidence that suggests that there is a LOT of other information filed in that internal database.) And I'm not that surprised that faith uses the word confidence to describe it.

I struggle with faith, as you all certainly know.

I have confidence or trust in people and things, as well as my own confidence in my abilities or the abilities of others. I have have confidence that if you give people enough time and opportunity, they will show you their good side. I believe that the sun will rise, and have confidence in it. I also know I have strengths and weaknesses, and that combined with my experience and education it means I am marketable and that I can join an organization and perform well. I have complete trust that I could make a successful survival plan to withstand a zombie apocalypse. But that's not it

I have a belief in God, if not always a strong grasp on particular teachings or doctrines of religion. But that's not it.

I do have a belief in a code of ethics and standard of ethics. I believe that people are more important than things, and that love is something you give and show, not just say or feel. I believe that morals and principles are nothing if actions are inconsistent with them. I believe that most, if not all, giving is not purely altruistic - I believe the giver is also getting something they need. And for me, that's because God designed it that way - that our emotions would reward us for caring for each other. So, for me, I also believe that ignoring suffering erodes that intended connection. I believe in being loyal, and honest, and having the courage of my convictions. I believe my learning these lessons, and others, is ongoing and lifelong. I believe that people (and by people I mean ME) are imperfect and make mistakes, and so I believe in forgiveness, even though this is an area I am especially imperfect in. But that's not it either.

I do not, as the 5th definition says, have a system of religious belief such as the Christian faith or the Jewish faith. (I know a lot about both, and some other faiths and traditions and practices for good measure, but finding the right fit for me has never been about how much I know. I'm still wrestling with this one - stick a pin in it because it's coming soon to this blog!) So, that is definitely not it.

Closest to what I feel is the definition in number 2 - belief that is not based on proof. But that seems so . . . clinical and incomplete. I have a belief that is the substance of things hoped for, and and the evidence of things not seen. My faith is somehow the proof that things are happening the way they are supposed to. It wasn't my plan to be single and unemployed, all at once. (It was within a month of each other, not 5 minutes, but to me, it felt that way). It also doesn't seem like an accident to me. If it hadn't happened that way, I wouldn't have made those changes. It's like . . . I needed the rug ripped out from underneath me in order to see how nice the floor was without it.

I am not someone who often talks about or recognizes faith. We're not close friends, faith and I and are often wary with one another. So, the fact of my unwavering faith right now is the proof I need that something good is happening here.

I am someone who usually fights so hard with self-blame, guilt, and beating myself up. And what that often, too often, translates into is that I hold onto things for too long. And I make myself miserable with it. So, it also doesn't feel like coincidence to me that so very quickly I was able to see my breakup and my job loss as positives. I'm not saying I haven't worked hard to take ownership of moving on, and I won't ever discount the help I've gotten from my friends, but I also can't deny that it's not NORMAL for potentially difficult things to make me . . . happy.

So, I have confidence, I have belief, and I have help, all of which I'm grateful for, but I also have faith that things are happening according to plan, even if it's not mine.

ATM Fraud

That's right. Today, I planned to divide my time very carefully into quarters with one-fourth devoted to submitting applications, one fourth to finishing up my self-training on MS Project 2010, one fourth to my interview and interview prep, and the remaining quarter to pounding out a run on a treadmill or roadside. (Cardio has ceased to be something I purely loath. I still don't like it. That may never change. But, I'm getting better at it, and that helps. Also, I am in a co-dependent relationship with it right now. Cardio needs me to get it done, so I can lose weight and look my trainer and cardio partner in the eye. I need it to help my brain from feeling like it could explode from the effort of staying positive in the face of all this uncertainty. So, we'll stick a pin in that and write another of my many posts about cardio another day.) That was my plan. And y'all know how much I like a plan.

Well, last night, while I was pounding out some cardio, and smashing my weight lifting workout in fact, apparently my ATM number was in Yuma. And this morning while I was sleeping (biding my time until I could call the fraud line at my bank) that same card was turned down in Austin to buy gas. Weeeeeee!

I've been the victim of fraud and identity theft before. And my experience getting that dealt with (once the conveniently placed long weekend in which I watched weird check amounts being cashed and wandering out of my account helplessly was over) was pretty good. The money I needed to buy my books and pay my insurance and rent was back in 5 days, and I had a new account set up pronto. I had three days of watching money walk away, and practicing deep breathing. They caught those people and uncovered their scam (pretty elaborate, as it turned out, but not very well executed) and I had the opportunity to write something about my experience as the "victim" (HATE that word) of this crime maybe a year later. I had food in the house, so while I couldn't go out with my friends that weekend, and had some stress since I was a poor graduate student at the end of a long month of no paycheck, I wasn't going hungry. And ultimately damage repaired.

So, when I saw money being spent a couple of states away I assumed that if fraud had gotten more tricksy, that fraud response had improved as well. And I was right! My card was shut down last night, which means THEIR copycat card was shut down too. Sorry, guys, no gas for you in Austin. And this morning, I called the number, got my instructions and an order for a new card placed. But, I also had to go to my branch and get a temporary card. Of course, it can't do everything a real one can, alas. But I can buy groceries until the new one comes, and my account is safe. Whew.

Day briefly derailed, money safe and plenty of time for me to go about getting ready for my interview.

What does this have to do with anything, right? We all go through this unless we live like conspiracy theorists. I mean, that's sadly probably true. I got some scary statistics from talking to the bank. In 2009 nearly 5% of the population had to deal with this, and spend, on average, 21 hours and $300 plus dollars resolving the crime. That was 2009! I would be eye-balls-popping shocked if those numbers hadn't gone up in the last 2 years. Lightening struck twice for me, so I asked my new banker friend if there was any way to find out how this happened. Since I know where my card is at all times, and have the right protections on my account, it mystified me. He told me that since my data wasn't leaked anywhere that placed me on a known-concerns list, this was probably a completely unpreventable occurrence. My card was probably picked up by a scanner when I bought gas or used an ATM last weekend. No way to know it. Am I supposed to stop using my ATM card? Suspiciously interrogate everyone who gets me a latte or beer? No.

What I've been thinking about for the last day is that even as recently as  a year ago, this issue would have enraged me. And not having a person to be angry at specifically and feeling helpless would have lead me to turn this fury on the world. I would've and been pissy with everyone from the desk clerk at my gym, to my friends, just because I allowed it to permeate my world for several days. I'm not someone who will tell you that anger is a completely "useless emotion." I think there is healthy anger. I think there are cases where anger can spur people on and lead to determination, motivation, and purging of old hurts. What I am going to tell you is that for me, anger is most often not healthy and instead of leading to motivation or something positive, leads to being short, unpleasant, and unable to be happy about much of anything for days.

When I'm genuinely angry and hurt, I often don't process it right away. Somewhere a long the way I learned that I was deeply alone. And I was for awhile. And even when I wasn't, there was a longer period of time where it wasn't safe or comfortable for me to have my feelings out loud. So, for me, anger turns inward. It is a dark and twisty spiral and it has spikes. It lays in wait, and sets a bomb wrapped in barbed wire. And what happens then is, I take this bomb, and quietly lay it on a shelf. For days or weeks or hours or years, and then I detonate it when I'm all alone. It sounds noble, as though I'm saving others, but it isn't. It actually serves to hurt more people because the bomb goes off at a time and in a way in which I cannot deal with it in a healthy, non-destructive way. The bomb can't be defused. It has to GO OFF and leave emotional shrapnel. And I spend the following days and weeks feeling the after-shock, and passing it on to innocent bystanders, or worse, going back to the person who accidentally hurt me long past the time in which they remember what happened and setting a bomb for them. It's awful.

So, I could be angry that my plan was derailed and I lost time. I could be angry that doing something completely normal like going to an ATM or getting a box of tampons may have set this theft in motion. I could, but who would I be angry with? I guess I could be angry with whomever thought it was a good idea to take my info and run off to Yuma (Really?! Yuma?!) but, I don't know them. I don't know why or how they did this. Maybe they're in a desperate situation. Maybe they have a sad story. Or maybe they don't. Either way, being angry at them, attaches me to them, and forces my brain to think about how and why this happens. And fraud prevention services told me that this is probably a lost cause - it is probably not possible to track exactly how and when this happens. Why would I attach myself to a lost cause? (I say this like I'm all wise and strong, but this is just EXACTLY what I've done in the past.)

This is like the 6th time in the last month that I've been presented with this lesson. There's a doozy of an example here - ahem, losing my job. A number of people have suggested I explore my anger at my former employer, or even seek legal counsel. But if I did either, that would keep me attached to them for a long, long time. And guess what, I already had more than enough time stewing over anger with them when I was employed with them! For me, anger would do nothing but feed the unhealthy connection I had with that organization. It would lead to . . . nothing but more anger and judgement. That is the very definition of empty calories in my life.

So, look at me, I'm growing. With this fraud, I was curious, I was focused on what I needed to do to rectify the situation, I was open to hearing anything I could do to prevent this in the future. But I wasn't angry. I didn't waste time on that, because I really needed to get back to my carefully orchestrated day. (And i was hoping I could finish up at the bank in time to get a cup of coffee) The banker was all," I'm so sorry this happened, and took your time." Well, ok, but I didn't have to spend 21 hours, or $300 plus dollars. I spent 2 hours, thus far, and have some minor ATM card inconvenience for a week. So, I responded, "Well, this has all been handled really quickly and professionally so I'm satisfied this will be completely ok very soon!"

The lesson I'm trying to learn here, and have been hit over the head with for the last month, is that LOVE PROVIDES AND PROTECTS. I heard that last weekend. Yes, I heard it at church. And so my minister's point was that God's love is without boundaries and unending, and will give you what you need. I struggle with that, and I also have friends who don't believe in God or that kind of God. But I think the application is relevant to the me that wants to believe in that God, and the me that often questions that. (So, I hope it applies to my friends who aren't in that relationship with God too.)

Whether or not you believe God helped me deal with my identity theft, or is walking with me in my job search (which is much more than just hide-and-seek-find-a-job but really me seeking a better life than I had), the reality is, I have been very loved and protected in all of this. My bank protected my account, and quickly. My friends' love has provided for me over and over and over. And over. I have been provided with help understanding my options, the offer of a place to stay if needed, lunches and dinners out with people I love celebrating my "freedom", the offer of help for my healthcare costs, personal training, some part time job offers, introductions to helpful people to network with, supportive rally cries by phone, mail, text, and FB message, help getting my resume together, help getting my resume out there, editing of my cover letter template, people asking to be my referrences, company as I work out my demons by sweating out some cardio, and just so many hugs, high fives, "atta girls" in person and at a distance that I've lost count. I had someone who I met and worked with for every bit of three days and who no longer works with my former employer look me up so that she could reach out to me, ask if I was alright, and if I needed help getting my resume into the hands of an educational company.

I am loved. Whether you think that love comes from God through people, or from people who are awesomely loving and giving, and who I have the amazing good fortune to have in my life, the bottom line is that I am loved. (I think both. Because the God I know gives people the complete freedom to have the morality of frog spit, or to be loving, kind, and generous.) And that love has provided and protected me.

If I needed any further proof of this I would need only to look at this:

In case you're wondering, that's love sitting on my kitchen table cut into the shape of beautiful flowers. I am loved.

(Have you ever gotten one of these Edible Arrangements? They are the bomb. I love getting flowers, and I love getting candy, and this is like both rolled into one, only most of it is healthy. Wow. Luck has nothing to do with it. I am loved.)

And focusing on that, instead of anger, has garnered me the chance to interview for 3 part-time positions, and 4 interviews for full-time positions. I don't want to pat myself on the back too much here, but I'm a little proud that I haven't spent my time stewing and dreaming up evil plots and dealing with a bomb and the ensuing emotional shrapnel. I'm proud that I've taken the time to reflect that it's ok for people to love me and help me. I'm proud that I'm putting my energy into the right place. Also, I really liked that fruit.

Friday means nothing to the Unemployed

I was at home working on some cover letters and applications yesterday afternoon, and I idly checked Facebook. You know,  like ya'do.

I saw four posts from people proclaiming their gratitude for it being Friday. "Friday, where have you been all week, I've missed you." "Going home to my baby, and glad it's Friday," and "Woo hoo, it's Friday!" And it occurred to me . . . Friday means very little to the unemployed.

Now, it so happens, I had a wonderful, healthy dinner out with my wickedly funny and totally brill friend last night, but that could have happened any night for me. Friday is just another day.

Right now, my weeks are like this:

Sunday - workout with my trainer, and try to catch up on some housework or cooking
Monday - another day of job hunting, and possibly some extra cardio
Tuesday - another day of job hunting, cardio, and NOT going to sing (I dropped choir during this season of fearful money)
Wednesday - another day of job hunting, cardio and resistance work out
Thursday - another day of job hunting, cardio and maybe some laundry
Friday - another day of job hunting, cardio, and resistance, pack gym bag for swimming
Saturday - treadmill, swimming, and church

As savvy readers, I'm sure you'll see the pattern here. I job hunt, and punish myself on a treadmill or bike (and occasionally I add some rowing or stairmaster in there too). I sweat out some cardio and I job hunt. I search for jobs, and I log cardio hours. Did I mention the time spent applying for work and the time spent raising my heart rate?

I've decided I need to add some variety in there. What can be said of my last job, regardless of liking it or not liking it, is that I was never doing the same thing repetitively. Every day was different. If I was in the office two days in a row, the tasks didn't match. And certainly, when on the road, what I was doing changed significantly depending on who I was working with that day. So, doing the same thing day-in and day-out is not a habit I'm in.

It becomes clear to me how the unemployed get into a rut of sitting around in their ratty sweatshirt, parked on the couch, steeped in depression. It's hard work to not be working, ironically. This is the hardest thing I've done, and this is speaking as someone who received two master's degrees, one while being emotionally abused by her adviser, trained for and earned a black belt, took and passed Calc 3, and was dumped by her fiance days after her father's death. This is hard.

It's hard to make myself reach out to friends, and hard to remind myself this isn't my fault. It's difficult to make this my full-time gig, and not be depressed. I'm working out a lot of stress on the treadmill, but not keeping despair at bay. Which isn't to say I'm sad and miserable all the time. I'm not. I swing from being wildly hopeful and thinking, "Yes. What an opportunity to find a job that really makes me happy and excited!" But when the pendulum swings back, I realize, "I don't get to blow off steam on Friday because I didn't work hard this week. I'm single, unemployed, and in my mid-thirties. How did I get here?"

Cardio isn't enough. I need to get out of the house. I need to do things that make me feel like I'm still a capable, confident adult that DOES things. Dinner out was excellent last night because I got to have interesting conversation and feel smart. Being alone in my house is a recipe for forgetting I am a person with ideas, vocabulary, and accomplishments.

For all of these reasons, I am contemplating two measures. One, budgeting $5-10 a week to sit at Starbucks or the like while job hunting-and-applying so that I'm not at home and have to wear a bra and something other than my ratty sweatshirt. Two, getting very serious about a schedule of part time work so that I am not consumed by what feels like the very real threat of never being useful to society again.

Do you want to . . .

"Do you want to do some bike and stair master on Monday?"

NO!!

Ok, people, lets go over this again. I don't like cardio. I really don't. Here are some things I do like:

• Sleeping 8 hours a night
• Watching the Colbert Report
• Learning from other people
• Fresh fruit
• Game nights
• Game nights with nachos and my friend Mary's divine popcorn
• Brunch
• Growing my own basil
• Teaching
• Babies. More specifically, watching babies becoming toddlers and learn awesome things.
• Swimming
• Writing
• Photography
• Giving someone a gift that makes their face light up
• Hearing people's stories
• Cooking
• Really amazing pizza
• Cupcakes
• Shakespeare
• Organization
• Respect, trust, integrity, inspiration
• Sports movies, end of the world movies, and movies based on true stories
• Working hard at something and getting it right
• Walking
• The ocean
• Sunsets over the mountains
• Pedicures
• Having friends from different corners of my life meet and like each other
• Music - listening, dancing to it, and making it
• Spending a day with some really good lemonade and a book I can't put down
• Laughing until my ribs hurt
• Fried pickles
  

Yeah, that's right. I like fried pickles. A lot. (It's hard to find them done right, but when found, they are glorious!)

So, ok, there are some forms of cardio on that list. I love to take a nice walk. Swimming calms me down and makes me feel both adrenalized and calm at the same time. And I've gotten exercise I haven't loathed while I was sweating. I used to climb with my bestest friend in NJ and, dudes, I sucked at it. But I loved it. I had no natural ability for karate, but an hour of working up a sweat at the dojo was more fun than beers with my friends, and so I often gave up going out with friends in favor of a class. I've been in some excellent games of capture the flag and soccer that I loved, win or lose. (Though I'm quick to tell you all, at age 21, playing a serious, all out game of capture the flag across my college campus, I brought home the opposing team's flag, with three of their players hot in pursuit. I ran THROUGH the dorm that had bathrooms as connectors between the halls, and changed floors from first, to second to third several times. No, I'm not competitive at all. I haven't any idea what you're talking about!)

But, cardio, for cardio's sake - naaaahhhhhh. I don't wanna. Nope. I do not want to meet you on the stairmaster. But I will. (Siiiiggggh)

Because here is something else I don't want. I don't want to sit at home, watching 6 hours of the Intervention marathon. I don't want to spend 3 days in a row in my pajamas, unshowered. I don't want to be here, each week, when my local Jehova Witnesses come on their regular visits. I don't want to lie in bed for three hours reading, and staring at the ceiling, and avoiding the frightening things about my current reality. I don't want to steep myself in activities that make it easy for me to slip into depression. I don't want to dwell on the negative.

I'd hate it more if I became a depressed shut-in trolling the web for job opportunities and cutting and pasting cover letters. So, I get on the treadmill. And I meet my friend and bike, and stairmaster (brutal!) on my appointed day-off from exercise. Sweating is better than crying. That's all there is to it. And being with people is better than being alone, even if it's a brutal 45 minutes on a bike and a stairmaster that make me want to hurl. Ugh.

Three lunches and a training session

Letting people help me is one of the most difficult and most healing experiences of my life.

Let me preface this by saying, I don't want to accept help. I don't want to need help. I hate help.

Which is all really ironic and hypocritical since I love, love, love helping others! Since graduating I have given to charities that matter to me, I have volunteered at nursing homes, educational programs, with young children, and registering voters. I still volunteer monthly with a program I believe deeply in.

There's no way to do this without sounding like I'm so awesome and I know it, but I used to donate more hours than I was required to students. I am always available to my friends who need editing done on essays, letters, or the like. I have written more reference letters than I can count, and used to be everybody's favorite person to help them move. I've carried a lot of couches. I have helped people learn a new skill, helped with homework, and babysat for free.

It makes me happy to be someone's ride, to cook someone dinner, or to buy a friend a drink. It is my pleasure. But more than the things I give what makes me most satisfied are the times a friend needed to talk, needed someone to listen, or needed help with something intangible. I like giving.

I tend to agree with my friend Eric, that no giving is completely altruistic. My experience has always been that when I can look at my day and point to something worthwhile I did (you know, point to it to myself. Not to others. That really would be bragging!) my day feels more rewarding. I give because doing it feels good.

This was never more evident than the day before I moved to Colorado. I had insisted we find a shelter or food bank to give my unused pantry food to. When I found one, I looked at their list of most needed items and saw they also wanted soap, shampoo, and other toiletries to offer their guests the ability to shower. Well, lo, I had a shopping bag full of travel sized toiletries from all my business trips. So I packed those up along with my bags of rice and canned goods. We had to stop what we were doing in the middle of packing and loading and drive a town over to make the delivery, and parking was not ideal. We had the wrong address. It took a hour to make this simple donation. But when we arrived someone dutifully took our grocery bags, but then we had to come inside to make the toiletries drop. The kid who took that donation went RUNNING to the back office, shouting, "Look!  Look! How many showers can we offer with this?!"

I was tired, and sweaty, and had been feeling kind of over-cooked with the moving process. I had fielded three really difficult good-bye meals, and one crying friend (who never, ever cries) breaking down in my kitchen. I was DONE. Stick a fork in me. But that 30 seconds of seeing the glee someone else had to be able to provide for those who had less, to know I played a role in it - that hour kept me going for the additional 12 hours it took to finish loading the moving truck that day.

People feel good when they can do the right thing. People feel confident and happy when they can help. People like to know they did something meaningful, supportive, and contributed to the greater good. There's something to being able to pay it forward. And as my mom says, water seeks its own level. So, I should assume that when people offer me their hands and help openly, it is because they love me and it makes them feel good. I know it can be that way, but often the reaction I have first is warriness.

Although I went out into the world feeling more alone than I was ready for, I. Did. It. How? Ummm, I had help. I had people I could lean on. I talk a good game about being so independent, but you know, it wasn't like I sold a kidney and then took care of myself. I had mentors. I had a family friend who loaned me money. I had friends who read my papers and helped me complete them (granted, this was part of my college's plan - we had to form committees of readers to pass our papers and take us through several drafts. And students who had already "passed" that area could be readers). I had people who hooked me up with a myriad of part time jobs so I could pay the college the sums that no 18 year-olds knows how to come up with and stay registered. I wasn't all on my own.

And that community was such that I could see exactly how to pay that forward. I helped other students get their papers read and passed. I helped students get their portfolios together. I did community service aimed at supporting students. And when I graduated and was working on campus and some student housing burned down, I offered up my extra bedrooms.

So, where did that feeling of "full circle" go? I left that close knit community and small campus and life went fast, and all of a sudden, here I am, nearly 13 years later, stymied by this situation. For a couple of weeks after my lay-off, I was fixated on a conversation I had had at a friends' house in NJ in May. One of them had quit her job the very week I was there. She and her wonderful wife had decided her happiness was more important than another couple of months of salary. And we were talking about my job and I said, "if there was another income in my house, I would have quit already."

And so, when the position was eliminated, all I could think is, "what does a woman with no other income in her house DO in this situation. I'm all alone."

What a ridiculous liar I am sometimes. I was never alone. Within a couple of days, I had people asking if they could be my reference. I've been offered the opportunity to consider a couple of different kinds of part time work. Friends have called to check on me. People who I haven't talked to in over a year have asked to pass along my resume to those they know. And not one, not two, but three people took me to lunch this week.

I had four amazing years of community support and the ability to give and receive help in college, and then 13 years of painfully unlearning that. And the horrible lesson I learned was, "don't trust people who want to give you something. You will be let down. There will be strings attached. It will get messy. You don't deserve anything offered. Keep your guard up." But this week, I had three lunches, and a training session that countered that.

So, the door I had slammed to all of that began to open. I told myself stories like, "well, I took her to a movie once when she was broke," and "I was invited to dinner and said I was going to bring 2 things, but then brought 6 things," or " I help her with something hard for her, and fun for me, every week." and then I shoved that kind of ledger-thinking away and said, "I want to see and talk to this person. I want to keep being positive. I want to keep depression at bay, and not find myself curled up on the couch crippled by the enormity of this story. So. GO. Go out to lunch. Enjoy the time with this person."

Those moments were hard for me. Not because of my friends. My friends are not only wonderful, loving supportive people, but people with the grace to make those lunches about wanting to spend time with me and celebrate my release from bondage. I never felt like I was their charity.

Those moments were hard for me because of my foolish pride, and this false idea that I have that I'm an island. Somehow, in my mind, there are terrible consequences to building bridges off that island. Or letting anyone defy my bridge-less-ness by bringing their boat over and saying, "Hey, I notice you have lots of coconuts here, but wouldn't they go well with rum? And hey, I know how to mix that drink! Wanna have some with me?"

Those drinks healed me. In lots of ways! I literally did have a boozy lunch with one of those friends. and it was simply delicious to talk everything over with her. And while it was water and salads at the other lunches, the conversation and things those women bravely shared with me reminded me that it's a bad goal to try and be an island. My friend, the same one who cried when I left Jersey, the same one who supported her partner in leaving an unhappy job, wanted to NOT have a baby shower. She didn't want a fuss, or silly games. I understood that. But I pressed her and said, "It's not just to get gifts It's because there are a community of people who want to celebrate this with you. those aren't just your fans, but your baby's fans and the people who will be there for you when you need support and love and someone to talk to as a parent."

So, she had a shower. And I was PSYCHED to send a gift. But guess what? All of those people also lined up after the delivery just waiting to give love to them and their baby girl. Love is for giving away.

It begins to heal the bad lessons I learned over the last 13 years to know that people are offering their support and help because they believe in me and think I am a good bet to put what they're offering to use in a positive way. And so, today, I took the next leap and accepted an even bigger gift at my training appointment. It is one that will make me very cognizant of being accountable in this process. With this gift in my hand, I can't just work out, or eat right, or search for a job as isolated tasks. I have no choice but to see this as a process of finding the life that allows me to keep those things in balance; whatever the job ends up being.

So, thank you all. And keep me honest about accepting help and support.

"It will be ok"

Somehow I managed to convince myself that I was ok with all of this through Christmas. And then my mom left, and my act dropped (hard). I put my best face on when I flew to Boston, but in that week there were countless conversations about my severance agreement, COBRA insurance, and finally, at what point the money will run out and I will have to leave Colorado (and move in with them). Reality became very real that week. And this last topic settled over me like an Eeyore cloud. I can joke all the day long about moving into someone's basement, but the reality is, I might not be able to make it through this on my own.

Scratch that. I already can't do this on my own. I needed help to understand my severance. I needed help from not one, but two different friends to polish my resume and cover letter. I needed a ride to and from the airport and I need almost daily reminders to stay positive and see my lay off as an opportunity. A chance to find my way to a better me.

But, the thing is, it's painful for me even to ask for those kinds of help.

I have lived life, for too long probably, as my own unit. I take care of me. And although there have been wonderful examples of people doing amazing things for me (some that they don't even know!) there have been some very memorable pieces of evidence that when I let someone in and start to count on them, they let me down. So taking care of myself, as much as possible, has seemed like the best policy for most of my life. This has been true for me, financially, for half of my life but has been true in other ways for longer than that. I left home more completely than most do when I left for school. And I also took the responsibility for the financial burden of that education at that time. So I count that as the moment of my independence. But the truth is that before that, I had been on my own in other ways. I had more financial responsibility than my peers, if not total financial independence. And I had other responsibilities too. I often found myself in conversations with adults where it became clear I was the grown up in the exchange, and I had had to be much more emotionally self-sufficient than I want my future, hypothetical children to have to be. I wasn't unloved, or uncared for, but some of the resources available to me were impoverished.

In much the same way that working too much to pay some of my bills in high school paved the way for me to know how to work four part time jobs in college at any given time, not having the ability to get what I needed at home paved the way for me to make families of the other people in my life. This the the blessing that was disguised in my first home and it's discontent - it taught me to get my needs met elsewhere. In high school I was part of a very tight group of five friends. We shared everything with each other, and looked after each other in deeper ways than most teenagers do. And these many years later, I am in touch with all of them, and one of them is the family member I visited in Boston. The very same one who initiated a conversation about me moving in if it comes to me not being able to make it on my own. Stick a pin in that - we'll be back to it.

This was the beginning of a long trend for me. Pretty much everywhere I go, I find myself joining other people's families or making ad hoc ones of my own. I have not one but two non-biological families in New Jersey, which was a place I did everything I could to reject on the cellular level for a full quarter of the time I was there! I went through a terrible break-up with my fiance after moving here to Colorado, but found that his best friends of more than two decades were more than happy to keep me in their family, even as he refused their overtures of support. I have family in NY, Texas, Seattle, Virginia, Illinois, Florida, Oklahoma, Connecticut, and Maine. And I have friends here in Colorado that are reaching out in ways that tell me that if I'm not yet in their family circles, they certainly think I'm worthy of their time and care.

I shouldn't be surprised that people want to offer their help, but I am. And I'm not only humbled by it, I'm . . . embarrassed to need to even talk about accepting it, much less actually take someone up on it. It makes my skin prickle to ask for a ride to the airport. It makes my insides ache to ask someone to help me tune up a cover letter. So what wound will come of needing financial help?

But the truth is, there is a very finite window, dictated almost entirely by the amount of my severance, that allows me to continue to be financially independent while job hunting.

Having to borrow money or move in with someone seems to me like the very worst thing that could ever, ever come of this. But it's a little silly to realize that I have helped other people in this way. (I had someone I didn't even know all that well living with me for a month while he found his feet in the summer of 2009. and another person was given a place to stay for three weeks later that year.) And I would do it for any of my family members (where family is a broad term for me) in a heartbeat - something my friends and family have hastily reminded me for every form of help that has been offered. My first instinct is to reject people's offers of help. My second instinct is to keep rejecting it. And my third instinct is to logically remind myself that it is my pleasure to help others, especially my friends and family, and that denying their offers is a way of being selfish. I had this conversation with my ex so many times, and in so many ways that even I am tired of hearing myself on this subject. How many ways are there to say, "People weren't meant to do everything on their own?" or "Doing it on your own isn't working." or "You push people away and hurt them when you won't let them help."

Well, there are at least 6 months worth of different ways to communicate this message because that's how long he and I have been having this conversation. So, there was a cruel symmetry when he, last week, pointed out that maybe the lesson I need to learn from this is to accept help and let people hold me up.

I wanted to slap him (just a little), but really, what I wanted was to stop myself from having to hear or face up to those words. He didn't say it unkindly. And he's not wrong. I just don't want this to be true. And it had been resounding in my head since my bestest friends had set a date with me to draw a line of trying to make it on my own with the formula of:

waning severance/savings + part time work + unemployment = not making ends meet and no full time job in sight


That line was drawn at an alarmingly soon date and calculated on the basis of numbers. I'm hoping for a different outcome and aiming for it by a rigorous job search.

I've had a deal with whatever universal powers there are for 15 years now. It goes like this, "I know I was made in such a way that I can't take prescription pain killers. Fine by me. Clearly, with the substance abuse issues in my family history, this is a good thing for me. So, just don't give me pain I can't handle on my own. "

This deal has worked, surprisingly. It has worked with countless broken toes, and a broken foot. It worked with a car accident resulting in a hairline fracture of vertebrae in my neck. It worked when my impacted wisdom tooth was removed. It worked when I had sinus surgery reconstructing one quarter of the face underneath my face, and two knee surgeries and the injuries that precipitated them.

I feel so lucky to have had that work out so well. So, being who I am, I feel like it's WRONG to ask for more. But I'm trying to overcome my crippling sense of pride to ask for another deal. I want to send out the request that if I am willing to learn the lesson that I can't do everything on my own, and set aside my pride, and accept help people are offering (which, really, has been overwhelmingly awesome. Everything from part time work to sending me job postings to help with my resume and getting it into people's hands to reduced rates on services I was previously paying for. Not to mention several offers of, "come live with me!") could it just be possible for me to learn that lesson without being in such a financial hole that I have to leave the life I built here? Could it be possible for me to keep living on my own?

Deal? Ok, let's shake on it.

My Boston fam told me that inexplicably written on the calendar on a day this year was written, "It will be ok." I have that same phrase entered into my calendar on the day we chose to re-visit me moving in with them.

My perfect job

Two friends have suggested I get very clear on what my perfect job would be. One of these friends believes very much in the beautiful order that can sometimes emerge in the chaos of the universe. The other believes very deeply in God and thus believes that nothing is completely random.

But the fact that I had this request twice in 24 hours, and from two people who have been helping me job search pretty intensely, felt like a sign to me.

I've been spending some time talking to God. My prayer is a little different depending on what I am most feeling and dealing with at the moment. And no, this doesn't doesn't answer my continuing questions about God. Or solve my issues in that relationship.

"God, I'm really scared. I know I need to learn to accept help and support from you and my loved ones, but please don't make that mean I have to move into someone's basement. I am trying to talk to you every day so that I can build a stronger bond with you. I know there are broken parts of my life I can't fix on my own, and I know needing help means I won't always be in control. I know I need to learn that lesson. Please help to guide me into seeing this as an opportunity for a better job, and a better way to be me. I want to believe that I can have that and deserve it. Please help me be patient, diligent, faithful, and to have the conviction to discern what the right next steps are. I know not my will, but yours, will be done but I am hoping for this to be a good change, not a scary one. In your name. Amen."

Sometimes the prayer is like this, "Please help me to forgive, move on, and let go of my bitterness." Or even, "Keep my ass in gear big guy - this is not time to get depressed and paralyzed."

Other times the prayer is just an unspoken wish, a picture in my head of what I want life to be like.

And it's like that bad joke. "A flood came and wiped out a town. A man got up on his roof, and watched as his house and belongings were submerged. A towns' person came running by saying, 'Mister, follow me! We can still leave." and he said, "Thanks, but no thanks. I believe in God. I go to church. I pray. God will save me.' The water rises, and soon a boat comes by and the people in it call out, "Come with us. we'll save you!' And the man shakes his head and says, 'I believe in God. I go to church. I pray. God will save me.' the water rises more and is washing everything away. a Helicopter flies over and lowers a ladder to the man, but he refuses saying, 'I believe in God. I go to church. I pray. God will save me.' The flood wipes everything out, and the man dies, and as he stands in front of God he grows angry and says, 'God, I believed in you. I went to church. I prayed. Why didn't you save me?' and God says, 'I sent a man, a boat, and a helicopter to you. Not to mention my only son! Why are you here?' "

I can't ignore when things converge, even if I don't know what it means to me. I've been praying for a job, for a pathway, for the ability to accept help and be patient. And now two of my friends have come by during the flood and called up to me on the roof, "Hey, make sure you know what you're looking for before you go out there."

So, here goes.

My perfect job is to get paid to write this. Except, I'm not sure that job exists. And if it did, would writing this blog be as much fun for me? Sometimes getting paid for an avocation makes it less meaningful (there are psych studies showing this!), less enjoyable. Either way, I'm pretty sure that job doesn't come with benefits. Which I badly need.

So, next down on the list is being in a position involving teaching/training. I've looked at non-traditional paths to teaching certification, adjuncting at the college level, but I have looked mainly at corporate training.

At this point, I would like to have a blend of working independently vs. working in a team or larger group setting, and to be working with "the right people on the bus" as Jim Collins would say. I value working with people and organizations that are passionate not just about positive change and impact, but evaluating how best to deliver positive change. I am primarily looking into non-profits, health or human service, or education groups because I would like to work with groups that make decisions about what is best for their employees or "clients" (or the targeted outcomes they are trying to achieve) based on value that is calculated in ways beyond the bottom line. I would dearly like to work in the realm of education and/or in ways that call on my expertise in working with students of many ages. Most of all, I want the kind of job that excites me each day; in other words, something I truly believe in. I also value organizations that hire individuals in the hopes of allowing them to grow in and beyond their current position and/or that promote ongoing professional/educational development in their associates.

I need a workplace that appreciates my long memory, perfectionism, attention to detail, organization, communication, and honesty. I'm loyal and hard working, so being surrounded by like minded people is a plus. I do not have IT, publishing, or e-Learning experience, but I'm all for getting some. I do have teaching, consulting, and professional development experience.

What I learned from my last job is this - being good at something and liking it aren't always the same thing, but can easily be mistaken for one another. I also learned that there is a limitation to how much change one person can render alone, and without support. So, for-profit or non-profit, educational or business centered, the organization must be one that values hiring people to grow into other roles, has integrity, and puts real thought into supporting their people.

It seems like a lot to ask, right?

I know, but I have to believe this happened for a reason and that it allows me to find something much closer to my dream job. Or at least I have to believe it when I'm not too consumed by freaking out.

Conversations I never thought I'd have

In the past week, I've had a series of conversations I never imagined would enter into my existence.

1. "Please press 1 if you want to hear Frequently Asked Questions about filing an unemployment claim."

This was not so much a conversation as a horrifying, demoralizing, depressing phone call. Technically, I'm not unemployed for another week. But I'm trying to be on my game and get all my details sorted out.

The truth is, unemployment in Colorado is pretty limited. I can't really pay rent and bills on it, unless I plan to eat, well, nothing (not an exaggeration). So, this of course means part time work in the interim. So, I need to look into what I'd like to do there: FedEx Kinkos is hiring. And I've had some thoughtful offers from two people I know, which of course makes those offers simultaneously more attractive and more complicated.

The deeper truth is, I don't want to file for unemployment. Even if it was enough money to make a go of it (and it really is NOT!), I'd rather not. Part of this is pride. But part of it is that I think there is a stigma about collecting for time on the couch. So, yeah, that's probably pride too.

2. "You have to promise you'll let me know if you need prescriptions you can't afford."

I made said promise, but if and when that time comes. I'm not sure I can do it. I know what my prescriptions cost 10 years ago without prescription coverage. I never heard words that felt truer to me than when President Obama stated that our debt crisis was synonymous with our health care failures. I never lived scarier times than my first four years of grad school without any access to health care. (correction: never scarier times than now.) I put everything on the line for my education, and that meant paying hundreds of dollars every month out of pocket for drugs that save my life every day.

Things are better for me here in Colorado than they were in New Jersey by a LOT. I'm unlikely to drop dead if I go a day or two without meds for asthma. But, if I don't have them for long periods of time I am likely to end up being hospitalized for asthma or bronchitis/pneumonia. I have permanent lung damage so I really, really need those meds. But do I need them enough to take that money from my mom knowing what she'd have to give up to do it??

3. "What's your full legal name? I need it for some paperwork regarding ___(her son)______."

Let me 'splain. A couple of years ago, a friend asked me if I would be her son's guardian if she should ever pass away. Or rather, she said something about it on Facebook and then we talked about how she knows I love him, have good values, and that he would love me. Since then, she has re-married. It seems that she and her husband are updating their wills and advanced directives in light of their fairly new wedded bliss. So, her son's father would still have shared custody, and of course, if she departed and her husband was still here, he would share custody with the father. But in the event that both she and her husband pass, I would be the other half of her son's guardianship and share with his father.

So, the conversation went like this. "__(ex husband and father)__ doesn't get him?"

"He would get his legal amount of time but not 100%."

"I get it. I would be his 'mom' side. I'm honored!"

"Yep. If __(new husband)____ and I go at the same time."

"Promise - if that day comes I'll raise him to be smart and caring, sweet and strong. And to love himself and be grateful for all you two did and gave him! But let's hope that doesn't happen. He and I would miss you too much."

I am honored. It's amazing to me that even in my precarious current situation my friend thinks I am the best choice. It's unlikely that this will ever come to pass, but it's a stunning vote of confidence.

I want kids so, so much and it feels like someone saying, "I know you can do it. " I will take any positive reinforcement I can get.

4. "There is a guest room just crying out for you."

This was a conversation with my two amazing friends about the guest room in their house they often refer to as "Christie's room."

I have had several of these types of conversations. My mom would be happy to have me in her basement. And my Uncle jumped right up and said,"I'd be happy to put your things in a truck and move you back here." and my cousin and aunt are itching to have me in Seattle.

But here's the thing - as much as I badly need to dump the rent on this place (I would never have rented a place this large just for me. It was chosen, in large part, to house the office I no longer need to run.) moving into someone's basement/guest room/etc. is a difficult prospect for me. Of course there is pride. I have been working for TWO DECADES. And I have been taking care of myself for half of my life, literally. It would be hard for me to give that up, of course it would be hard.

But, the bigger problem is that my life is here. Most of my strong contacts are here. And there isn't enough money for me to job hunt AND move. There's enough for one or the other, and either will still have to be on a severe budget. So, if I job hunt and fail, then I won't have any money to move, and vice-versa. So, the event that causes me to move in with someone means I have hit bottom, and have to sell all of my stuff for bus fare. Or something equally horrifying.


None of this is to say I am hopeless. All of it is to say I am very anxious about how to make this work and feeling overwhelmed.

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.)