Poetic License

It has been a week, almost to the minute, since I lost my job. The first day or so, I had heart palpitations and my blood pressure was quite high. It was about 48 hours before I started to get used to the fact that maybe I would retire.

And now I’m not so sure. I feel a lot of pressure to find another job, mostly because my son is still looking for work. My savings might be enough to carry me, but it can’t carry both of us. I’m a little shaky over that.

I had a dream last night that I was on a Teams meeting with a former coworker, the engineering manager, and a customer. My screen was as blank as it was during the layoff meeting, but I dropped some thoughts into the chat toward the end of the meeting. And then I thought, “Why am I in this meeting? Did someone make a mistake and forget to deactivate my account? What reason is there for me to be here?” The meeting ended, and I had the feeling no one had seen anything I typed. I was a ghost, a memory.

And then I dreamed I was in India. The reasons were pretty obvious; all our their newer jobs are based in the Hyderabad office. I guess I was there to try to keep working.

It’s a sickness, really, this feeling that I still need to be connected to the company. I never felt that way when I left any other job. I keep thinking they will call me and tell me it was all a mistake. I keep worrying about my teams.

What do I do now? I went to the gym on Wednesday and took a water aerobics class. I was going to go yesterday, too, but I woke up in a lot of pain. (The shoulder will never be the same as it was before cancer.) The rest of the day went downhill. My son left for Delaware, and I spent the afternoon napping and feeling sorry for myself. I had some unwelcome thoughts just before I fell asleep, but I can’t afford therapy so I just have to suck it up.

I had all these plans for when I retire. I was going to hit the gym every day. I was going to write. I mean, I have been writing but it’s hit or miss, and it’s hard to sit at the same desk when I once worked hard for my former company. It’s like staring into the void. I almost feel like selling the desk and starting over. But it will be a good setup if I get another job.

Yesterday I filed my unemployment application, because I can’t put my student loans into deferment until I file unemployment. That left me feeling worthless and bereft. Shit. I’m really unemployed. This hasn’t happened to me in a decade.

I called my sister. We talked about the usual stuff. We got onto the subject of where things are going with Medicare because of the idiot in the White House and all his cronies. The rich keep getting richer and getting all the breaks; the poor are dying. I told her how much ACA was going to cost me and that it won’t cover all my doctors. I might have to depend on my primary care NP to prescribe all my meds. The prescriptions are going to be prohibitively expensive. I might have to work on that with my doctor to figure out what I can live without. As we drifted into this part of the conversation, my whole body started to shake. It’s trauma, I know. I had to excuse myself and hang up the phone. I pulled multiple blankets over myself in the bed and finally drifted into a fitful nap.

My sister sent a text later to ask if she had said something to upset me. I told her no, I’m just a mess.

Meanwhile, the bills keep coming, but there’s still a little light inside me that helps me to believe. I believe that somehow, we will endure and survive (nod to The Last of Us). I believe that I will figure out what to do with myself. I believe that my son will find a job, even if he hates it, that will pay at least his half of the bills in this house. I believe that somehow we will figure it out.

But I know that Chickenshit hasn’t lost a wink of sleep over any of it. Ya know?

Namaste,
Jude