Reflecting ...

I spent the 22-29th at my parents' house. It was a pretty good time, complete with sister drama, Bodie peeing on the floor and great quality time with mom and aunts and grama. I got to see my brother for the first time in ages, and get a look into what my family's life is day-to-day. Spent time with old friends, and lots of carbs and napping.

It was great :)

But then I came back, to the reality of a stack of bills and no money to pay them. I am trying to be patient about not having a job, but the stress it is putting on me and on Craig makes it hard not to lose it. Lose my mind, lose my motivation, lose my faith.

In many ways, I am in the same place I was a year ago: jobless and fretting. But the in-between of Jan 1 and Dec 31 is what matters. The big things like finishing my masters', our honeymoon, Craig's accident and adding Bo to the family ... and the little things, from grocery shopping and watching The Wire and learning day-to-day how to keep going.

Our relationship certainly had some transition this year, for the better - we are better at talking to each other, at being partners. Marriage is certainly a forever work-in-progress, but we put a lot of work into ours in 2008. I'm sure it will mean a better 09 and thereafter.

These last two days, I've barely been awake. I'm overwhelmed with what I think qualifies as hopelessness, and I retreat to the safety of slumber. It feels like a waste of life, but when I'm awake *I* feel like a waste of life. I did leave the house today - took CL to work, went to Off the Leaf - and tonight we are making dinner and watching movies to ring in the new year. I'm not feeling well, and neither of us very festive. But having each other, and kissing at any time (midnight or not) is reason to celebrate.

Craig told me last year that in 09, he hopes that we can expect goodness by being good to others, ourselves. That hating is a waste of energy and stunts our growth, not that of the one we are focuing our emotions on. And while yes, 09 will likely also feature the financial struggle that most people in our class are experiencing, that needs to take back burner to joy and celebration and enjoying our lives.

We only get one life, one year at a time.

Karma and Christmas Tradition

This is the second year I've lost my job just before Christmas. It's a Christmas tradition I hope we never experience again.

We were talking about non-violence and karma this morning, and in the aftermath and anger of this job loss, it's tempting to wish horrible things on my former employers. But I figure that's not my job - karma will pay them back with a taste of their own medicine, perhaps. And if not, then I'll just trust the Universe has my best interests in mind with current unemployment.

It could be so much worse ...

9-5 by Dolly Parton is one of my favorite songs, so when I saw the movie for sale for $5.99 at Target I just had to have it. I've never seen it but figured anything featuring a mix of Dolly Parton and Lily Tomlin would be pretty great.

Last night Craig and I watched it, and all that working women have endured made my recent plight seem pretty harmless. My boss never called me "girl," or tried to pinch me or spread rumors of an affair. The faults were much less overt; nonetheless, I wouldn't mind figuring a way to ruin him or at least cause much pain (imagine being zipped up by a garage door opener!)

I was so disgusted by F. Hart, but in the end the girls got their way and were running the place. It may not be my story book ending, but those heroes (fiction and real) give me hope.

I couldn't have said it better myself

“I will not live an unlived life. I will not live in fear of falling or catching fire. I choose to inhabit my days, to allow my living to open me, to make me less
afraid, more accessible, to loosen my heart until it becomes a wing, a torch, a
promise. I chose to risk my significance; to live so that which came to me as a
seed goes to the next as a blossom and that which came to me blossom,
goes on as fruit.” – Dawna Markova

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
-Dylan Thomas


"Well-behaved women rarely make history" Laurel Thatcher Ulrich

"Never Never Never Give Up" Winston Churchill

Nightmare Dreams

All night - three or four times, at least - I had a variation on the same dream: work called, they made a mistake and wanted me to come back to the agency.

I remember being so pissed, and their consolation gift was allowing me to write greivance on my former boss. The form was a carbon copy, as so many there are, and I struggled to write in the small box provided.

Before falling asleep I wondered if I'd dream they wanted me back, the same way I would with boyfriends after splitting up. So I wasn't surprised the situation bubbled up in my subconcious but not really very pleased - it poses the question, would I go back? Could I?

I think ultimately, I would. And then work like crazy to get the hell out of there. I need the paycheck, and dignity and standards are small dice when compared with student loans. I would likely hate it, and myself, but at least I might numb this feeling of embarassment, shame and failure.

At one point in the night, the dogs needed to go out and when I got back inside, tore open the newspaper that had been waiting outside. The "Work for You" section couldn't wait til daylight, I decided. There was so little there, not a single job that speaks to my soul.

Will I be sacrificing my dreams in my next job? Most likely. But honestly, I'd sweep floors if I enjoyed my coworkers. A friend told me once, while I complained about work, that she doesn't love her job so much, but her coworkers make her laugh before 9, making the worst day tolerable. I couldn't help but be jealous.

On her facebook last night, a good friend and former coworker wrote about what happened to me, and she hoped I'd wear my refusal to back down and accept the status quo as a badge of courage. Right now I am allowing myself to be put in that place of "women should be seen and not heard", somewhat as penance but also thinking it's a lesson I should take from this ... strong women were not celebrated by my boss, and the misogynistic culture of working in corrections did not really mesh well with my not-gonna-take-it attitude. But I know that I couldn't have kept my mouth shut, it's not in my nature.

And when I asked Craig, who warned me to not rock the boat, if he was angry with me for having done so and ultimately being fired, he said to wish my fight and energy for justice to be eliminated would be to wish part of what he fell in love with gone, and he wouldn't want to do that anymore than for me to wipe away the silliness of his personality. I'm glad that is his attitude, because the truth is I've never been able to go with the flow if something was wrong about a situation - not in high school, not in college or former jobs. It's what led me into journalism, a passion for rightness, and when I saw I wouldn't find it in that field, I moved into mental health where helping others make sense of their lives would meet my own need to breed goodness in the world.

That is the characteristic I most hope my own children might have, though I hope to teach them how to use it and cultivate it to bring fulfillment in their own lives. My parents, I think, were so astonished by my passion and empathy they just backed off to see where it would take me. So far, it's been four firings, periods of loneliness and despair, but the eventual placement of a gay pastor at Holden, and passing a healthcare bill for kids. Those successes are so much more alive in me than the faults.

So even though I certainly wish I hadn't lost my job, I also know that I didn't lose the part of me that's most important. Maybe the dreams were a reminder of that.

I've had a bad day ...

My head is throbbing and my eyes ache to the back of my head. When I woke from my nap today, I had a couple peaceful seconds before I remembered, then I'd crawl back under the covers, fighting tears. I've felt like throwing up all day and forgot my glasses cleaning cloth in the desk.

Today, I was fired.

No reason was provided, other than I'm in my probationary period and it didn't work out. I've been dumped before, and it hurt, but it was never 8 days before Christmas with gifts yet to buy. My pleas to my boss for further explanation was met with "you're looking for an event and there wasn't one". So no matter how many times I replay the arguments with residents, refusal to use blue pen or various missteps on my part, I'm not able to see what might have been the button that pushed me out the door. The truth is, I was not well-liked by the administration, and someone just decided it was time.

So tomorrow, I'm applying for jobs.

I have several applications filled out, a couple emailed off already. I'm joining Molly at a temp service tomorrow and could likely start answering phones somewhere next week. There will be no sleeping in, no napping and more cooking, cleaning and working out. My job is to get a job, but the off hours will allow for plenty activity that doesn't including moping.

Tonight though, I get to mope. I intermittently cried throughout the evening, avoiding phone calls while watching bad television. Dinner was buttery popcorn with chocolate, washed down with a bottle of wine (husband said I could only have one). With each piece of Dove chocolate I unwrapped, I'd try to decipher the "promise" by the light of the tv, hoping for some clue to my future. "Be a role model," one said; "Take a minute to unwind" was the advice of another. But the one that is perhaps most easily forgotten and most important to remember is this: Dream as if you'll live forever, Live as if you'll die tomorrow.
It's corny on all sorts of levels - including the fact it was my graduation motto in high school - but I think the message is clear. I was unhappy at work for 4 months. That's 640 hours of not enjoying life, of wishing it away, of not really even liking who I was. So while I'm unemployed, I'm going to try to at least enjoy the extra time with Craig, the personal reflection and the character growth I'm sure to someday appreciate. Because to have wasted 640 hours was too many. In the next days, and in my next job, I hope to waste none.