Not just exhausted. I'm a little fed up. Okay, maybe a lot. But that feeling doesn't last long either, because being fed up, which is funny when you spell out the actual words 'fed up,' presumes that you deserved something in the first place.
To be clear: it's not that I think that I don't deserve something good in life. And I certainly don't think I deserve something bad.
It's this whole concept of "deserve." There's no karma. There's no Universe wanting to give us the things that would truly make us happy if only we ourselves could figure out what that is.
I think life is rather impervious to what we deserve.
People, on the other hand, are not impervious or equitable or nonpartisan. No, people in fact do take part in creating inequality and taking away things that other people deserve. They have both the power and desire to do so, and often do.
Things like opportunities. Acceptance. Respect.
Jobs.
I'm getting better with the acceptance of life not being fair.
Wait a minute. Who am I fooling? If I had in fact accepted this pith, I would not be feeling lousy right now. And I'm this close to just giving in and complaining. So I will. Maybe if we weren't having December weather in October. (Where are you when we need you, Global Warming?) I could at least be taking in sunshine and fresh air and letting nature do its job on my soul. But no, we have sleet and driving rain.
I'm climbing the walls, and it's only been 24 hours. I honestly don't know what to do with myself. I could take this time and be productive like I was earlier this summer, back when I thought I had a future here and could make my house my home. It's too late for landscaping, and the weather is too shitty for road trips.
Deep breath. Get a hold of myself. Come on. This is not the end of the world. Life is a lot more unfair to other people.
My whole adult life has been one of an itinerant. An itinerant what? Just that.
noun
--a person who alternates between working and wandering.
I never thought I'd get laid off this year. I certainly never thought I'd get laid off twice. That'll teach me to not think.
I think I might have handled it better this spring. For one thing, I at least had a month's warning. I had a huge adventure to Alaska and the long summer ahead of me. If I couldn't be working, at least I could be riding my bike and going to Michigan and traveling and working on my yard.
In Alaska, I realized that I had to open myself to every possibility, and looking back, I don't know if I did or not. There's saying it, there's believing it, and there's doing it. I think I got as far as saying.
But then something unbelievable happened. The perfect job came along, and it was offered to me. It was so perfect, that I was actually reluctant to talk about to many people. I'm not the type who believes in jinxes, but I guess I had a little bit of "too good to be true" going on.
But I guess it's something. For one-quarter of 2013, I had a fantastic job.
The location, work, dress code, and salary made it not a dream job but a fantasy job.
The boss made it a nightmare.
For the last seven weeks of that job, the truth is, I could hardly sleep at night, and my weekends were plagued with doubts about my future and fear of future dealings with my boss. I wasn't the only one who was under this pressure. Last Friday, I actually left the office nearly in tears. Saturday I called a colleague who has had a similar experience, and for the first time, since I started, I accepted the very real possibility that I might have to leave to save my sanity and my physical health.
Tuesday I was laid off. I was shocked, and yet I wasn't shocked, and I was speechless. I took my check and my personal affects and I didn't even say goodbye to anyone because I just didn't see the point of exhibiting any humanity in such an inhumane place.
But with this last blow came the loss of much more than financial security.
This job signified much more to me than a job. It turned out to be a terrible environment, but the work itself was the best I've ever done. It was the first time I ever knew what it felt like to have not just a career but a calling and a purpose.
Moreover, it represented the first time I ever felt at home here, like this was land I could finally claim as my own. Before I got this job, I never realized how much I approached life as a visitor. I didn't realize that the effects of it were detrimental, steeped in the notion that I don't belong.
The first thing I did when I got the job offer was plant trees in my yard. I still love that notion and what it meant. I was literally and metaphorically setting down roots, and the weight of the world seemed to be lifted from my shoulders.
I never realized before that how important feeling at home is it to me. I always thought I had a gypsy soul. Okay, maybe my soul is that of a gypsy, but my heart want to nurture and be nurtured, and you can't do that when you're constantly on the move.
For the first time, I acted like this was my city. And how different I felt, feeling as if this were mine too.
But Tuesday, I admit, that was the first thing that left me.
I can't deny how insecure and afraid I feel. Back to not belonging. "Back to the floor (that I love)."
And as ineloquent as it sounds, I feel like a loser.
I never thought I'd get laid off this year. I certainly never thought I'd get laid off twice. That'll teach me to not think.
I think I might have handled it better this spring. For one thing, I at least had a month's warning. I had a huge adventure to Alaska and the long summer ahead of me. If I couldn't be working, at least I could be riding my bike and going to Michigan and traveling and working on my yard.
In Alaska, I realized that I had to open myself to every possibility, and looking back, I don't know if I did or not. There's saying it, there's believing it, and there's doing it. I think I got as far as saying.
But then something unbelievable happened. The perfect job came along, and it was offered to me. It was so perfect, that I was actually reluctant to talk about to many people. I'm not the type who believes in jinxes, but I guess I had a little bit of "too good to be true" going on.
But I guess it's something. For one-quarter of 2013, I had a fantastic job.
The location, work, dress code, and salary made it not a dream job but a fantasy job.
The boss made it a nightmare.
For the last seven weeks of that job, the truth is, I could hardly sleep at night, and my weekends were plagued with doubts about my future and fear of future dealings with my boss. I wasn't the only one who was under this pressure. Last Friday, I actually left the office nearly in tears. Saturday I called a colleague who has had a similar experience, and for the first time, since I started, I accepted the very real possibility that I might have to leave to save my sanity and my physical health.
Tuesday I was laid off. I was shocked, and yet I wasn't shocked, and I was speechless. I took my check and my personal affects and I didn't even say goodbye to anyone because I just didn't see the point of exhibiting any humanity in such an inhumane place.
But with this last blow came the loss of much more than financial security.
This job signified much more to me than a job. It turned out to be a terrible environment, but the work itself was the best I've ever done. It was the first time I ever knew what it felt like to have not just a career but a calling and a purpose.
Moreover, it represented the first time I ever felt at home here, like this was land I could finally claim as my own. Before I got this job, I never realized how much I approached life as a visitor. I didn't realize that the effects of it were detrimental, steeped in the notion that I don't belong.
The first thing I did when I got the job offer was plant trees in my yard. I still love that notion and what it meant. I was literally and metaphorically setting down roots, and the weight of the world seemed to be lifted from my shoulders.
I never realized before that how important feeling at home is it to me. I always thought I had a gypsy soul. Okay, maybe my soul is that of a gypsy, but my heart want to nurture and be nurtured, and you can't do that when you're constantly on the move.
For the first time, I acted like this was my city. And how different I felt, feeling as if this were mine too.
But Tuesday, I admit, that was the first thing that left me.
I can't deny how insecure and afraid I feel. Back to not belonging. "Back to the floor (that I love)."
And as ineloquent as it sounds, I feel like a loser.
Now that I've admitted it, I must move on from it.
Maybe the reason I was reluctant to talk about this new job and new found feeling of inclusion and hope, was because I doubted that such feelings should come from a job that was for the most part controlled by the whims of someone else.
I have to start saying, believing, and acting as if I will soon find suitable and rewarding employment, and I have to learn what it means to feel value outside of a career, which is a definition.
Can I live without being defined?
Honestly, no. And simply listing my positive traits feels a bit trite, hackneyed, bromidic, and banal.
I think I do have to work on some definitions and on my constitution.
My task will be harder this time.
Now I have a dead economy (thanks Congress for that shut down), and a long winter ahead of me.
Maybe the reason I was reluctant to talk about this new job and new found feeling of inclusion and hope, was because I doubted that such feelings should come from a job that was for the most part controlled by the whims of someone else.
I have to start saying, believing, and acting as if I will soon find suitable and rewarding employment, and I have to learn what it means to feel value outside of a career, which is a definition.
Can I live without being defined?
Honestly, no. And simply listing my positive traits feels a bit trite, hackneyed, bromidic, and banal.
I think I do have to work on some definitions and on my constitution.
My task will be harder this time.
Now I have a dead economy (thanks Congress for that shut down), and a long winter ahead of me.
But I'm back in the Great Wide Open. A Rebel Without a Clue.
I am a person who alternates between working and wandering.
This is not the journey I thought I'd be describing when I started this blog, but it's the journey I have, and I think I better pay closer attention to the details.
And for the record, world, life, Universe, whoever you are, in the unlikely event that you are not impervious, I could seriously use a blessing that is not in disguise.
**************
Moss and rolling stones and long, winding roads have always held my heart captive. But a different fire flickers when I walk on cold autumn nights, and happen to look into the warm glow windows of homes, wondering what it would feel like to belong somewhere. One foot on the platform and the other on the train. I can't leave but I can't stay. Help me forge a path. Yes, me, I'm looking at you.
Somewhere, somehow, somebody must have kicked you around some.
Everybody's got to fight to be free.
See you don't have to live like a refugee.
This blog has been brought to you by Tom Petty with a little help from Stevie Nicks.
