DAY ONE: You can be laid off until further notice, he wrote, or take a 30% paycut. Effective today.
Working what hours? I wrote back.
The same, he answered and without the least hesitation or doubt, I calmly typed in No.
And in a less time than it takes to draw a single breath, I was out of work.
I had known it was coming in some form or other for months but still I was caught off guard by the email message.
I glanced around at what had been my workplace for just over two years, signed off the computer, and walked out. I felt as if I'd been sucker punched, hard, and it was suddenly difficult to breathe, impossible to think. Panic and fear began a desperate battle in my belly, each clanging and battering at the other, each determined to come in first and tear me apart. I felt sick, almost paralyzed with dread and uncertainty, and in the car I held my keys without recognizing what they were. I drove home on auto pilot, numb and on the verge of hysteria, half blinded by angry tears and choking fury. I felt like I had suddenly lost my balance and fallen head over heels into a pit with no safety net, tumbling into an endless and terrifying darkness of mortgage payments, utility bills, the care and feeding of my animals - an income-less nightmare of poverty and hunger with no way out. I was cold even though the house was warm and just the effort of absorbing this new reality was exhausting. I crawled into bed with the dogs and cats and held them tightly, closing my eyes and trying to shut out the nausea and stop the trembling. I had no idea what to do next. The immobilizing symptoms of depression were already on the prowl - insomnia, free floating stress, constant fear, the inability to move in any direction, anger that verged on rage. I wanted a target, someone or something to lash out at, someone or something to harm. I could feel it all combining to suffocate and crush me and the result was a weariness too great to fight. Panic is a predatory emotion, feeding off fear and anxiety, self-sustaining and devastating and all I could think about was giving up. There was no way to organize my thoughts and figure out the next step and even if there had been, I realized I didn't have the will or the energy to follow through.
DAY TWO: I'm up at the regular time and I do the regular things - shower, dress, make the bed, tend the animals.
The panic has subsided slightly - my friend Tricia was in need of help and has given me some work for the time being - and I'm calm enough to begin thinking clearly - almost. I plan my day - make job applications, return keys, call unemployment, work for Tricia, tend the animals and then go to work at my evening part time job, refuse to dwell on the fact that Friday is three days away.
DAYS THREE THROUGH SIX: Though I smile and claim optimism, my insides tremble and the black cloud over my head grows closer and more threatening each day. The immediate future becomes a high speed freight train and I am directly in it's path. I open my mail to discover that my last paycheck has been returned for insufficient funds and the depression temporarily turns to rage - I am now owed three weeks salary and I know that the bank is not going to care who is at fault. A feeling of vindictiveness is being born within me.
DAY 7: He calls to apologize and promise to make all monies good. He explains that checks he received himself were returned and that the avalanche effect took hold. I am unimpressed having heard this explanation given to others in the past and knowing it to be a tap dance around the truth. Still, he is sorry and unhappy to have caused me this pain, he urges me to be optimistic and assures me that things will work out then stuns me into an open jawed silence by telling me that he's working on a plan to bring me back. We are not in the same reality, he and I and I tell him when hell freezes over.
DAYS 8 THROUGH 11: I keep busy and try not to worry or borrow trouble. It takes several days and several visits to the bank to straighten out the disaster that was my checking account and I resent every second of it but I get it done. Overdraft charges are made good and the bank is good enough to reconcile my account. The immediate crisis passes in time for me to move on to the next one. The weather turns bitterly cold and we even have snow flurries and sleet, a bad omen, I think, and then chastise myself for thinking so. The weekend arrives and for a day or two I have other things to think about and I push the dull depression and ever present panic to the back of my mind. Still the clock is ticking and I can't silence it.
DAYS 12 THROUGH 18: I listen to his sorry tales of woe - can't meet payroll, tension in the office, a mountain of debt threatening to drown him, no prospects, apologies for what's happened - and am not moved. My own problems are all I can deal with and they seem to be drowning me. I spend hours online editing a resume and making applications and it comes to nothing. The days run together, without the structure of being employed I have no clear idea of the calendar and I can feel the darkness just at the edge of my vision. When I can sleep, my dreams are wild and vivid, almost frightening in their clarity, but they tell me nothing except that the stress is even present when I sleep, working its way into my unconscious as well as my waking time. It becomes more and more difficult to find the motivation to get through the day and the temptation to withdraw and wait it out under the covers is stronger every hour. I find myself looking back and wondering how is it possible that I've come to be so unprepared and so lost so quickly. How, I demand of myself, could I have let this happen? These are dark days and it's hard to find the energy to get out of bed, much less hope.
DAYS 19 THROUGH 23: The weather matches my mood - dark, cold, pouring rain. I think it may never end and find I don't much care. I print and mail resumes with a dispirited sense of futility and then with self discipline I didn't even know I had, force myself to shower and dress, make a light lunch, clean up after myself and the animals and resume my internet searching. I remember to take my meds, knowing that every effort must be made to fight the depression that is threatening to overcome me. Everything has become too much trouble.
A MONTH IN: It's nearly February, a gray time of year with many rainy days and falling temperatures. I ignore the weather and think that each day is the day that will bring me work and purpose. I remind myself that I still have a roof over my head, that the animals are still eating, that there is warmth and comfort in this small house and that there are hundreds if not thousands in far worse shape. I remember that there are much more severe obstacles than temporary unemployment and what matters is that we keep on trying no matter how often or hard we fall. I will myself into morning chores, will myself into a more positive mood, will myself into a better state of mind.
6 WEEKS IN: I step outside on an unusually warm evening - taking a break from rearranging bottles of wine - and someone calls my name. It's someone I've known for years, picking up her daughter from dance class. We chat and during the course of the conversation she asks me to send in my resume. The following day there is an initial interview and the day after that I'm offered a job in her husband's medical practice. Just like that, the free fall is over - salvation arrives through a chance meeting, through a moment of serendipity as unexpected as the muggy February night air.
Working what hours? I wrote back.
The same, he answered and without the least hesitation or doubt, I calmly typed in No.
And in a less time than it takes to draw a single breath, I was out of work.
I had known it was coming in some form or other for months but still I was caught off guard by the email message.
I glanced around at what had been my workplace for just over two years, signed off the computer, and walked out. I felt as if I'd been sucker punched, hard, and it was suddenly difficult to breathe, impossible to think. Panic and fear began a desperate battle in my belly, each clanging and battering at the other, each determined to come in first and tear me apart. I felt sick, almost paralyzed with dread and uncertainty, and in the car I held my keys without recognizing what they were. I drove home on auto pilot, numb and on the verge of hysteria, half blinded by angry tears and choking fury. I felt like I had suddenly lost my balance and fallen head over heels into a pit with no safety net, tumbling into an endless and terrifying darkness of mortgage payments, utility bills, the care and feeding of my animals - an income-less nightmare of poverty and hunger with no way out. I was cold even though the house was warm and just the effort of absorbing this new reality was exhausting. I crawled into bed with the dogs and cats and held them tightly, closing my eyes and trying to shut out the nausea and stop the trembling. I had no idea what to do next. The immobilizing symptoms of depression were already on the prowl - insomnia, free floating stress, constant fear, the inability to move in any direction, anger that verged on rage. I wanted a target, someone or something to lash out at, someone or something to harm. I could feel it all combining to suffocate and crush me and the result was a weariness too great to fight. Panic is a predatory emotion, feeding off fear and anxiety, self-sustaining and devastating and all I could think about was giving up. There was no way to organize my thoughts and figure out the next step and even if there had been, I realized I didn't have the will or the energy to follow through.
DAY TWO: I'm up at the regular time and I do the regular things - shower, dress, make the bed, tend the animals.
The panic has subsided slightly - my friend Tricia was in need of help and has given me some work for the time being - and I'm calm enough to begin thinking clearly - almost. I plan my day - make job applications, return keys, call unemployment, work for Tricia, tend the animals and then go to work at my evening part time job, refuse to dwell on the fact that Friday is three days away.
DAYS THREE THROUGH SIX: Though I smile and claim optimism, my insides tremble and the black cloud over my head grows closer and more threatening each day. The immediate future becomes a high speed freight train and I am directly in it's path. I open my mail to discover that my last paycheck has been returned for insufficient funds and the depression temporarily turns to rage - I am now owed three weeks salary and I know that the bank is not going to care who is at fault. A feeling of vindictiveness is being born within me.
DAY 7: He calls to apologize and promise to make all monies good. He explains that checks he received himself were returned and that the avalanche effect took hold. I am unimpressed having heard this explanation given to others in the past and knowing it to be a tap dance around the truth. Still, he is sorry and unhappy to have caused me this pain, he urges me to be optimistic and assures me that things will work out then stuns me into an open jawed silence by telling me that he's working on a plan to bring me back. We are not in the same reality, he and I and I tell him when hell freezes over.
DAYS 8 THROUGH 11: I keep busy and try not to worry or borrow trouble. It takes several days and several visits to the bank to straighten out the disaster that was my checking account and I resent every second of it but I get it done. Overdraft charges are made good and the bank is good enough to reconcile my account. The immediate crisis passes in time for me to move on to the next one. The weather turns bitterly cold and we even have snow flurries and sleet, a bad omen, I think, and then chastise myself for thinking so. The weekend arrives and for a day or two I have other things to think about and I push the dull depression and ever present panic to the back of my mind. Still the clock is ticking and I can't silence it.
DAYS 12 THROUGH 18: I listen to his sorry tales of woe - can't meet payroll, tension in the office, a mountain of debt threatening to drown him, no prospects, apologies for what's happened - and am not moved. My own problems are all I can deal with and they seem to be drowning me. I spend hours online editing a resume and making applications and it comes to nothing. The days run together, without the structure of being employed I have no clear idea of the calendar and I can feel the darkness just at the edge of my vision. When I can sleep, my dreams are wild and vivid, almost frightening in their clarity, but they tell me nothing except that the stress is even present when I sleep, working its way into my unconscious as well as my waking time. It becomes more and more difficult to find the motivation to get through the day and the temptation to withdraw and wait it out under the covers is stronger every hour. I find myself looking back and wondering how is it possible that I've come to be so unprepared and so lost so quickly. How, I demand of myself, could I have let this happen? These are dark days and it's hard to find the energy to get out of bed, much less hope.
DAYS 19 THROUGH 23: The weather matches my mood - dark, cold, pouring rain. I think it may never end and find I don't much care. I print and mail resumes with a dispirited sense of futility and then with self discipline I didn't even know I had, force myself to shower and dress, make a light lunch, clean up after myself and the animals and resume my internet searching. I remember to take my meds, knowing that every effort must be made to fight the depression that is threatening to overcome me. Everything has become too much trouble.
A MONTH IN: It's nearly February, a gray time of year with many rainy days and falling temperatures. I ignore the weather and think that each day is the day that will bring me work and purpose. I remind myself that I still have a roof over my head, that the animals are still eating, that there is warmth and comfort in this small house and that there are hundreds if not thousands in far worse shape. I remember that there are much more severe obstacles than temporary unemployment and what matters is that we keep on trying no matter how often or hard we fall. I will myself into morning chores, will myself into a more positive mood, will myself into a better state of mind.
6 WEEKS IN: I step outside on an unusually warm evening - taking a break from rearranging bottles of wine - and someone calls my name. It's someone I've known for years, picking up her daughter from dance class. We chat and during the course of the conversation she asks me to send in my resume. The following day there is an initial interview and the day after that I'm offered a job in her husband's medical practice. Just like that, the free fall is over - salvation arrives through a chance meeting, through a moment of serendipity as unexpected as the muggy February night air.
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