Day two starts with an analysis of day one. Yep, I had three separate instances of tears. But in spite of that, the day can be described as, well, successful. First off, there is the kindness of people to consider. Since my news has become public so to speak, I have received several phone calls, one from as far away as Georgia, many encouraging emails, and three separate invitations: to the gym, one for tea, and to lunch. The lunch invite I’ve accepted for today! To all of you who read the blog and responded to my email, please know that each of you authenticate how blessed I am in life. And you are correct. There is something else out there for me. You all know it and I do too!
That said, writing the blog first thing in the morning gave me immediate purpose and reward. I know I have to be careful about that, as it is a trap to fall in love with your own writing. But it’s the entire process that feels so good—not only the creation of an essay, but the editing, cutting and pasting, the detailed reworking of the words resulting in a final product far better than the one with which I started. Suddenly, it was lunchtime, and several constructive hours had passed. From there, it was down to the basement for laundry (yuck, but)— a novelty to me at noontime on a Thursday-- and then on to the dining room. My husband just finished a new paint job and the place needs to be put back together, a project that normally would have waited for the weekend. I hauled stacks of china, scraped errant paint droppings from the floors and swept up, the whole time conscious of the large manila envelope sitting on the edge of the kitchen counter. With a sigh, I finally opened it and found the details of my severance package. I didn’t cry then, but I did flinch when I read: “We regret to inform you…” and “We thank you for your contributions…” Reading it felt like standing beside my former self, the one who prior to Wednesday, I knew pretty well. Is this me they are talking to? Today, the article explaining the layoff was front and center in the Business Section of the Boston Globe. The final paragraph discussed how these are “appropriate measures for the long term growth…of the business.” There was a bit of a pang when I realized that if the company is successful, it will be without me.
One of the overriding themes in my many conversations yesterday is that losing a job that one has held for so many years can be compared to a death. When my fifteen-year-old daughter shuddered at that statement, I commented: “Well, not that bad a death.” She said (attributing her comment to a favorite TV show), “It’s the death of your past, but the beginning of your future. Carpe Diem Mom.”
OK Megs, I will.