A Dark and Urgent Vacation

A Dark and Urgent Vacation  What the Hell now?

    The pre-processing part of the mind is a nice gal, but a little flighty.  She makes note of every item of information you process from “Wow that dog is really brown!” to “I think that Buick is about to run me over!”  with the same bit of forethought. She is a great gal, but she kept betraying me whenever I would walk through the kitchen and see my work shoes.  “Say aren’t those your work shoes?  You need to remember to take them back to work with you on Monday!”  Only there was no work on Monday.  

A few hours previously I had been notified that my services were no longer needed at the office I had worked at for almost 5 years.  I finished my open files, cleaned off my desk and walked out.  I held it together well.  I even joked with the people who were firing me. I did not acknowledge what had just happened to my co-workers.  The only time I felt the corners of my eyes leaking was while I was cleaning out my desk.  The office was empty and I turned my “Running Mix” of music on loudly because , “What were they going to do?  Fire me?”  It was the most timid act of rebellion in history.  Most of the music on the list was upbeat, with a driving tempo to inspire me to keep running on those few times I did get out and exercise.  Then the song “This too Shall Pass” came on by Ok Go.  

You know you can't keep lettin' it get you down

And you can't keep draggin' that dead weight around.

If there ain't all that much to lug around,

Better run like hell when you hit the ground.

The lid I was holding down on anger, desperation, and self pity slipped a little, when the music on my phone seemed to be aimed directly at me in that moment.

Let it go, this too shall pass.

Let it go, this too shall pass.

    

I balanced the boxes on top of each other, turned in my key, shook my ex boss's hand firmly and wished him luck.  

What the hell do I do now?

I called my wife. I called my preacher. The third person I called was a manager at a competing lab.  Then I called a friend who travels the country making sure that vascular labs are up to the current codes.  Less than an hour without a job and I was already on the hunt.  

     As I sat alone in the empty house, frantically calling everyone I knew in my field, I remembered something important.  Nothing is ever accomplished on a Friday afternoon.  I gave myself permission to pretend like I still had a job for another two days.  During those two days, I kept unemployment off my mind by focusing as much as I could on the very moment I was in.   

     I am not sure what other encouraging guides to unemployment suggest, but I can not endorse strongly enough the “Get with people you love and get absolutely shit faced” method of coping.  I think this is the method Dave Ramsey suggests.

In a complete surprise to me, the sun came up the next morning, and everyone else did not seem as completely terrified as I was.  On the contrary, friend after friend told me about the times they got laid off.  These were smart, professional, successful people that I admired and they had been in exactly the same position I was in and came out on the other side.  They knew how it felt and were offering sympathy and advice, and although they didn’t realize it, just telling their stories showed me that being laid off was not the end of the life.

  I also remembered the times when they were laid off and felt guilty that I didn’t offer any comfort then.  

    When you have a job, life has structure.  Your clothes are stored to efficiently choose them for work.  I had alarms set at various intervals and I knew how many times I could hit the snooze bar, get a shower, and still be at work on time.  

With no job, there is a tremendous void.  The temptation to indulge in binge watching Netflix and playing Fallout on the X-box was strong.   I knew I had to be deliberate about finding structure, making time to exercise, and also setting a time each day when I allowed myself to enjoy something and not worry about the situation.  

On Saturday morning, I rode my bike to the park and a local trail riding group was hosting an informational meeting.  I had only had my bike for a few weeks and signed up for a “Beginners Trail Ride.”  As I was waiting nervously in the group, I heard someone call my name.  “Matt? Is that you?  It’s me! Tony!  You scanned my legs and helped with the surgery!  Thank you so much! They feel great, but I am coming in to see you this Thursday to take care of some small spider veins.”  

I smiled and turned on my work enthusiasm, and asked how his legs were, but just felt sick.  I didn’t want to tell this guy that I had just been fired, and was imagining his thought process when he went in on Thursday and asked where I was, and wondered why I was no longer working there and why I didn’t mention it on Saturday.