Author's Note: I wrote this blog post last fall, but didn't have the ability to post it until now. While we are gratefully employed, I thought maybe someone else might benefit from reading it. If nothing else, it was cathartic to write.
Also, my husband gave me permission to write this. Especially the part about the dishwasher. :)
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Every week some well meaning friends ask, rather timidly, "How is 'it' going?"
What they mean is, "How are you faring with unemployment?" Their eyes reveal that they want to care but they don't want to pry. They want to "be there" for us but they don't want to burden us by having us retell our story again and again.
I've never climbed Mt. Everest, but I imagine that climbing that majestic mountain is a lot like unemployment. You can't really see the destination, but you're constantly going in a direction which you believe will lead you there. Along the way, people ask, "How are you getting there?" and you say, "Well, I walk that way..." and you point up. There's a general adrenaline rush at the beginning and a sweet pep talk and then, I imagine, there's a lot of ho-hum step, step, stepping. Nobody asks, "Are we there yet" because, sweet mercy, wouldn't you know when you reached the summit? Some inquire, "Do you have a guide?" and you point to your Sherpa. Unemployment is a lot like that. Except without the Sherpa.
When I was a post-college grad, I heard a speaker tell a story about "letting go." He had been on a whitewater rafting trip and had gotten caught in the current under a log. He kept trying to climb over the log, but the water was too strong from him. When his strength was spent, he let go and the water's current sucked him out from under the log into the main current. He just had to let go.
I wobble between letting go and holding on.
I don't look at our bank account because 1) Savings are there for these type of emergencies and 2) I will not feel better by looking.
I have a new perspective on people who are poor but who spend money they don't have. I'm starting to understand that angle.
I have found that I am prouder that I thought I was.
I have determined that I am so tired of this economy and seeing my sweet, strong, talented husband being disrespected by this faceless entity, that I will sell everything and move in with my mother in North Carolina if it doesn't improve. I have not told my mother about this, so maybe you shouldn't either. But I have told Dan and his eyes droop playfully as he says, "Please don't make me move to the south."
I find that I wane in patience more than usual. My boiling point is reached faster. I'm much more protective and proud of my children than I have ever been. And my husband is simultaneously a saint and the most irritable man I have ever met. He keeps loading my dishwasher (saint) but he loads it the wrong way (grrr)... And this revelation makes me feel incredibly small, like a woman who is complaining that her ruby slippers aren't red enough.
I vacillate between being extremely efficient and then spending some days playing with Eve, napping, playing with Eve, napping. If we're honest, we know that the days spent being efficient feel more successful and less like we're trapped.
God is not allowing for depression to set into my life. I launched my small business last month. And by small business, I mean: It's so small that I only sell one thing. One. Thing. It's a calendar and it seems to be faring well in the marketplace. That marketplace is largely my sphere of friends, but I swear that they bought the calendars of their own freewill. In any case, it helps my mind stay nimble.
And two sweet pixies who call me "Mom" keep making my day brighter and busier.
I have amazing friends and some of them happen to be blood relatives which makes life feel more stable.
It's not all wine and roses, but none of life is, so I'll strap on my hiking boots; I'm climbing Everest.
