I survived my first full week of unemployment. I didn't handle it as well as I thought I would. I experienced panic, depression, despair, anger, fury, self-pity, self-condemnation, etc. Basically I was a twitching, stuttering, shuddering mess from Friday last week until Wednesday this week. But on Wednesday, I started to to regain my equilibrium. I had a minor setback when I realized I wasn't depositing a paycheck on Friday afternoon, but I recovered. I had a good day today, although it was mostly non-productive. I just hung around the house, watched TV, did some shopping and errands, floated in my pool, and napped.
Until this happened, I hadn't realized how much of my identity was wrapped up in that job. If someone asked me what I did, I did insurance. That was my job; that was me. That was who I was. Surprise, surprise, surprise, I have an existence outside insurance. An existence I have sadly neglected at the expense of my peace and spiritual growth.
I'm not the only one thrown by the ending of my job. Several of my friends have reacted strongly to it. Many of them have talked about their own job insecurity and how much it frightened them to think that they could lose their jobs as easily as I did mine. Others have drawn away from me, as if unemployment was something you could catch. To the credit of most of these, they eventually rallied around me.
And the customers of my former office have taken my leaving badly. After all, I had been there nearly 18 years. For many of them, I was the face of that office, the person they called for help when they needed it. Several have called me; others have approached me at the library or on the street.
I have no doubt the office will do fine without me. Perhaps not as efficiently ... well, maybe even that. None of us are irreplaceable in our jobs. Maybe that is the lesson I'm supposed to learn from this. I'm too close to this right now to process any deeper meaning. Maybe later as the first week gives way to the second or third or God forbid the 10th.
Really, I'm writing this to tell you that I'm still here. I'm still moving forward as best as I can. I may be splashing around a bit, but I'm not drowning. Eventually, with God's help, I'll remember how to swim again and make my way to solid ground. I still have faith.
So how are you doing? Is life treating you okay? Let me know. And if you're splashing around too, swim my way. We'll hold each other up as we swim toward shore.
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2 comments:
Now when they ask say, "I'm an author." :)
Frenzied is right, Stephen. I know this is a blow to you, but here's something for you to think about (like this is the ONE THOUGHT that has not yet gone through your mind this week): This could be a HUGE blessing once you get past the shock. As long as you had your job to rely on, you couldn't move to the next stage of your life and see what enormous blessings are in front of you. Maybe the only way God could hand you something better was to make you put down something "OK." Instead of security, He's handing you opportunity and adventure, and the chance to really step out as something new. Like... fulltime author? Maybe so!
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