Bring it on, 2013

While I wasn't looking, Blogspot changed their set-up and I can't figure out how to get this published.  I am working without a net here.  But I didn't want the occasion of my 8th blogiversary pass without acknowledging its existence.  How do I remember what day I started my blog?  December 29th, 2004, my 25th wedding anniversary.  No one should be starting a blog on their anniversary.  That should have been a red flag as to how the marriage was going.  So I am here to (a) acknowledge my blogiversary and (b) wish you all a Merry Christmas and a Happy 2013.
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Christmas 2012

Dear Bloggy Friends,

D

id you miss me last year?  You probably didn’t even notice that I didn’t send out Christmas cards (snail or e-mail) for the first time in over 30 years!  What was I thinking?  I was thinking 2011 was so shitty that you didn’t want to read about it!  And then 2012 came.  Yee gads!  So I decided this year, with things going much better, it was time to “put on my big girl panties” and move on… and move back to St. Louis.  Columbia was not good to me so after 6 years of making every attempt to settle in I moved back home to look for work.  I found a roommate, and together (along with her teenage daughter) we share a house in South St. Louis (more later).

As many of you know, this last summer was my 3^rd summer in a row of unemployment.  It was not pretty.  My mantra became “at least I have my health,” but even that thinking sucked after a while.  As depression overtook my every day thought process,I cannot begin to name nor thank all the friends (thanks, Sailor Dave) and family who helped me through some very difficult months all three summers.  I had people staying in touch, supporting me, loving me, comforting me and lifting me up in prayer.  The events of the last week have put a new perspective on much.  I was mortified and horrified to be fired last summer for helping a student while working at a counseling center on campus.  In the wake of school violence, I was fired for telling a professor to continue to worry about his student after his 2^nd phone call because the student had never called for help.  Along with gun control and a new perspective on mental illness, we have got to evaluate our adherence to HIPAA codes when trying to help someone.  In the end, I would do it all over again if it meant avoiding another Virginia Tech.  I should have held my head up in pride instead of lowered in deep depression for attempting to help that unknown student.  The summer before I had been laid off the day I came back to work after my daughter’s wedding which was a big shock, but at least you can mark that up to the university’s budget.  This last summer’s job loss came out of the blue as the biggest shocker since the women at this job declared “we won the Lottery when we hired you.”  That all changed 7 months later when I was “let go” and given “it doesn’t matter” as the reason.  Crazy, huh? That’s what I meant by 2012 being the worst summer of them all.

But then I moved and found a great job (not getting too excited or jumping up a down because I’ve been shot down too many times) which is going very well.  I am the executive (Suck it, MU!) administrative assistant at a non-profit organization that translates material for medical professionals into “plain language.”  Got that (because there will be a test later)? Don’t start laughing, but I am in charge of payroll, billing, balancing,depositing and all sorts of money and number issues.  Laughable, huh??? I interviewed here for a position for which I clearly was not qualified, but the previous administrative assistant had just quit that morning!  And I would have never applied for that job had I known all the financial and HR work involved.  It's amazing what you can do when people put enough confidence in your abilities. It’s only a few miles from my house so the commute is not all that bad.  One of the biggest perks is we are given the week of Christmas off and don’t have to return until January 2^nd.  With living back in St. Louis and getting time off, I do not need to race out of Christmas Day activities to drive back.  Yeah!  The new job and the excellent election results have been a positive start to 2013.

How are the girls, you ask?  Well, I see Mabel about as much now that I have moved 120 miles away as I did when I lived across town from her.  She still teaches math but transferred to the high school this year.  A few lockdowns and a gun here or there, but otherwise, things are good.  She and her husband celebrated their second anniversary in Paris this summer as their gift to each other after teaching summer school to pay for it.  Nice. 

Up until August, Dorothy was working at 2 jobs and living with me to save money for her next adventure.  After helping an actor backstage with a one-man show, she was offered an internship at a theater across the state by him and his wife who run it together.  We are forever grateful to her mentor and professor who arranged this and happily moved her west the first week of August.  She helped with backstage props for Three Tall Women in September and The Kentucky Cycle (parts I & II) in November and December.  I was so proud of her watching her in action behind the scenes.  To make ends meet, she found another job at and, in true Dorothy fashion, rarely sleeps.  The sisters and I drove across the state to see The Kentucky Cycle in December.  We had some time to waste before the show so I decided to fall out an antique store and meet the sidewalk with my face.  My shoes must have gotten caught on the step out of the door and down I went much to the horror of my sisters.  The gash above my eyebrow was responsible for much blood, but when Sister #3 went to get help, the only customer in the store was a nurse (an angel) who got the bleeding to stop and patched me right up.  After being hit in the face once, I do not know how fighters get back in the ring.  I am just grateful that I did not break my arm or crack a tooth in the fall.  The year before I broke (a bone in) my foot falling off a step in sister #1's garage.  I’m really not as clumsy as it sounds and am grateful to recover so quickly because of the aforementioned good health.

The only thing that is not working well is the roommate situation as I have dubbed my roommate’s daughter “the spawn of Satan.”  I already raised 2 teenagers and count my blessings every day that Mabel and Dorothy were and are kind, thoughtful, bright, responsible, respectable, hard-working, diligent, funny, conscientious young women.  The same cannot be said of this teenager.  She has not lifted a finger to help out around the house since we moved in together in September and spends most nights with her drop-out unemployed boyfriend (who doesn’t like crowds).  Isn’t that how most seniors in high school live?  (Get back to me on that one!)  She stopped talking to me the day I asked her not to smoke pot in the basement!  She attends a work-study alternative high school but was fired in October from Subway so she does nothing, including helping to clean around the house or take care of her cat.  One night she announced in front of both of us that her goal after high school was to move to a state where pot is legal and become a distributor. Of course, she was stoned at the time, and I knew the concept of not smoking the profits would be lost on her. Her mother told me that the SOS was thinking about quitting school and taking her GED so she could start college early. I was in disbelief. This kid is clearly not college material. She graduated early this December and said she will now use the time to relax.  And I have kept a straight face every time I get new tidbits about her.  (And the Oscar goes to…) I am counting the months till I can move out on my own.  4 down, 8 to go.  Let me know if you know of any alternative living situations for a single 50something responsible working gal.  (And while we’re on the subject of helping me out, if you know of any single 40-65-year-old employed men, don’t hold back.)

As you can clearly read, life is getting much better. I love being back in St. Louis closer to my sisters.  I miss my girls, but that’s as it should be.  I love going back to my church and am the substitute ringer in 2 bell choirs.  The kitties (Jewel and McMurphy) continue to fight like brother and sister but nap closer and closer to each other and keep me from going insane.  Stop laughing!  Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.  So glad the Mayan prediction did not hold true now that things are going my way.

Fa la la la la la la la la,

Redheadeditor  

My kingdom for some confidence

I am seriously screwed.

Work has weighed heavy on my mind this past week (even before the daughter debacle of '12). The director resigned suddenly 2 weeks ago, and I am going through some PTSD from the time I started at the publishing company and my boss quit 6 months after I started and forgot to tell me. Everyone took their hatred and frustration of her out on me and life was not pleasant until someone offered to be my supervisor, ensuring my employment. I had been a confident, assertive, outspoken, positive, loud teacher for 7 years prior to that and had to give up that profession for my (a) daughter and (b) sanity. As the yearbook sponsor, I attended everything (to make sure my staffers were there to wrote copy or snap pictures). I was involved in the union and had an air of confidence about me. (With teenagers, you can't let 'em see ya sweat!)

After leaving teaching, I went into publishing for more flexible hours. After 18 yrs in the industry, I felt I had a handle on things, held myself with professionalism and confidence, ran meetings, arranged receptions for hundreds of doctors, traveled to medical meetings, organized books with 300+ chapters and the same amount of contributors. I was a deadline machine. (One author referred to me as Dances with Deadlines.) I loved my job and the confidence that came with it, and the doctors never knew if I lacked confidence because I never let them see me sweat. If you ask them today, any one of them would tell you I was in total control of their projects and they appreciated my confidence. I was quite a force at church with my hands in every details, lector, Sunday school teacher, choir, welcoming committee, communications committee. You name it, I was at church as much as I was at home. I was a whirlwind. At the same time I was raising 2 daughters who adored me and respected me and were aware of my omnipresence. I had learned my job well when it came to teenagers never seeing you sweat.

And then 2003 happened. I was laid off from the aforementioned publishing position. I had no idea the implications. I interviewed for a few jobs at the company before I left but nothing happened. In the next year I had a handful of interviews at the company and we (my peeps and I) could not figure out why I wasn't being hired with 18 yrs of experience. I marked it up to being too expensive when they could hire a college grad for next to nothing. But after a year of futility we discovered I had been black balled by one of the vice president, a woman I had absolutely no association with in my time there. The only thing we could figure out was a conversation I had with her in the vending room when my daughter had gotten invited into a sorority... and her daughter didn't. Of course, I didn't know it at the time nor did I know she didn't get into mommy's sorority (double whammy). From that, she directed everyone NOT to hire me. Unbefuckinglievable. Next followed 2 1/2 painful years of freelancing and applying for jobs with nothing coming to fruition. Finally, in '05 I was hired as an administrative assistant. I made half my previous salary and had benefits and no real responsibility. I sored into the moderate level of Sudoku.

During those 2 yrs of unemployment, I was demoralized, humiliated, bored, lonely and abandoned. My ex gave me no support, comfort, confidence, help, perspective. None of the things I had given him over his many voyages into unemployment over the years. (And there were A LOT.) Somewhere along the line, I must have been to confident and intimidating that my ex never touched me, had sex with me, noticed me, wanted to be with me, but he also wouldn't move out. By 2006 he had spent the year working out of town and I liked being alone. And I was tired of being ignored and taken for granted so I got the nerve up to leave him. However I knew I couldn't afford to do so in the big city and opted to move to the college town where my daughters lived. Within 2 months I got a kickass job teaching sex ed where I learned how to talk to teenagers in jail, rehab, and detention about every aspects of sexual health. Talk about having confidence and never letting 'em see ya sweat!!! Within 4 months I fell madly in love with the love of my life. 2007 was the year of my lifetime. I was as high as any one human can be. Confident, assured, happy, in love, vibrant, and did I mention happy?

2008 brought an end to the relationship. It seems the love of my life was a functioning alcoholic who loved to verbally abuse me every time I visited. Before that, I was confident that I would move to the east coast to be with him one day and start a new life. But bit by bit, he chiseled away at my confidence and literally made me shake in my boots. He sailed and I didn't swim. So I took swimming lessons for this man (as my fan club already remembers). I lost 60 lbs and owned the world, but there were many memories of being scared to death of this man, and deep inside, I knew it had to end. Which it did. I was so devastated that I had to quit my job and move back to St. Louis when my lease ran out and rest up at my sister's place for 3 months. I could barely get off the couch. My world had crashed in. If you've been here long, you remember all too well the Fall of '08.

I found a job back at the university and returned to the college town to start all over. Joined a choir. Thus started the next 3 years of employment hell. I had 2 jobs at the university that reduced me to a puddle of whimpering fears. I had the distinct pleasure of working with an absolute sociopath who came and went as he pleased while I answered his phone and did his crap jobs while he reduced me to tears on a daily basis. It was so bad that after 6 months, my boss couldn't even give me a performance review because he never bothered to train me! A day before my boss retired she finally reviewed me after working there for 18 months and gave me a mediocre on all points. I was laid off 3 weeks later when I came back after my daughter's wedding. I was devastated and could barely lift my head off my bed for weeks. Next came the worst job I have ever endured, back at the university, as an administrative assistant again. After 4 months I was told I was skating on thin ice because I asked too many questions. WTF?? Could it be because they never trained me or told me what to do??? After 7 months I was fired for helping a student. I dragged my humiliated body back to my condo and took to my bed, sobbing in the dark for months. I will admit I considered not waking up but (a) promised a friend I would call him if I wanted to hurt myself and (b) thought of my daughters at every twist and turn as a reason to hang on. While I did see a lawyer to consider filing a lawsuit (the most assertive thing I did in the 17 weeks I was unemployed), in the end, I did not handle this latest session of unemployment well at all.

At the same time I was in a relationship with a man for 3 years that I knew should have ended after 5 months, but it took me 3 yrs to get rid of him. Seriously, folks, why does it take that long to get rid of another functioning alcoholic who is no good for me? Am I a magnet for people who take advantage of me and my sweet nature? I could never be mean to him and tell him to hit the floor running because I would not be #2 to alcohol. I was a chickenshit through most of that relationship and am so relieved that I finally got rid of him. (He recently e-mailed me that he has found someone else. Even HE has more confidence than I do!!)

That brings us to this current job. While it does not have benefits, it is a good job that I enjoy with people I really like. After 2 months the director informed me that we should meet once a month to talk about... ME. What a concept. In all the years I have outlined above, not one person, supervisor, dept head, manager, had ever pulled me aside, and said, "Let's talk." I was overwhelmed with joy and fear. Finally, at 54, I was going to have a mentor. I resented all my past supervisors in every job and career for not developing my business sense, my organizational skills, my understanding of the way I function. In that session she explained things that I had been too scared to ask about in team meetings. (Remember the aforementioned job that chastised me for asking questions???) Over the past 8 years I had learned to keep quiet, never speak up, have no opinion, assume you know what's going on and scramble afterwards, take notes. And all of a sudden I am encouraged to ask questions, speak up, be noticed, know what everyone's job was so I could be an authority on the company. It's enough to take my breath away every time I think about it.

Today I was asked to attend a meeting with the company. When we got the announcement that the director had resigned, one of my first thoughts was "I bet they ask me to replace her at the meeting coming up." But along with the invitation to take part in this critically important, terribly hectic meeting came "grave reservations" as to my confidence level. The new director does not want to see a "shrinking violet" with these doctors. They do not want a secretary taking notes and staying quiet. Oh crap, 9 years of learning my place down the drain. I am scared shitless. I do not have a confident bone left in my body and fear her "grave concerns" are justified. I am not who I once was. I have been stepped on, spit on, stolen from, crushed, hurt, torn to shreds, left to rot, pummeled with bad luck, hard luck, no luck. How does one come back from that? I'm asking you, seriously, how to I become the old me in a matter of 2 weeks and not let 'em see me sweat?

I am definitely a shell of my former self. If you knew me 20 yrs ago, the me you would describe is not the me I am now. Clinical depression and life's curveballs have really thrown me for a loop in the confidence department. Most weekends, I sit in my dark apartment. I never socialize, don't attend church, rarely go out with my children, avoid relationships, can't tell my kids what I think or feel so I don't burden them, don't go to the movies. Who am I? I don't even recognize myself from the woman I was prior to 2003.

I'm sweating as I type this. How do I get through the past to get over the past and enjoy the present?

FML

Not a cheery post so this is for me.

My daughter Dorothy and I went to a cabaret event on Saturday night. It was a disaster. It started off with a quietness because I don't want to ask too many questions. I can't even remember what the discussion was but she decided to say, "Are you going to cry?" to which I replied, "No, I have no intention of crying, but if I did, what of it?" I can't even remember if I was asking her about the Italy internship or her long hours at both jobs and asking if she was getting enough sleep. Doesn't matter. She thinks it's okay to interrupt with that at any time.

We went to dinner, quiet, and were at the theater early for a good seat where she talked to strangers. While waiting for the show to start, she talked to someone from her college days and completely ignored me. Dorothy actually chose me over her boyfriend (who I have nicknamed The Lump) since he didn't want to go. (Of course, she had asked him first. If I hadn't called, she had no intention of having me come along. (He hates theater and musicals and singing unless it's head banging music.)

Next we decided we would go for frozen custard. Twice in the last 2 weeks I have texted her, asking her if she wanted to get some frozen yogurt, but she never replies to my texts or calls me back if I leave a message. She wanted to go shopping with her Kohl's discount after ice cream. Again, I truly don't know what the conversation was about since I honestly try not to nag but instead ask her how her life is going, is she working too hard, what is she up to. As we turned into the place, she laid into me like I have never before witnessed. Screaming in the car that she hates spending time with me and that it's painful spending time with me and on and on and on until she finally says, "And I don't need to hear that you are e-mailing my professor and telling him what a disappointment I am and how I've wasted my degree." She said a few more quaint things and after a pause ended with, "Wow, I feel so much better."

I, on the other hand, was decimated. I had to bite my lips so I would not cry as the tears welled up. But remember, my daughter doesn't want any tears and shames me any time my voice quivers. We ordered a concrete to share while she just jabbered away about something. I couldn't hear anything any more. I was supposed to recover from this? And then I had to go shopping with her at Kohl's because, clearly, she felt so much better having pummeled me. I wandered around Kohl's finding some bargains here or there so she could use her discount on me.

On the way home, she said, "So how's your job going?" I said, "There it is." Silence. I added, "Did you know that if you would call every once in a while and ask me how MY life is going, we wouldn't even touch on the subject of your life?" So being the mature adult, I chatted about my job and the ups and downs of learning new things all over again at my age. I gave her the chocolate bunnies I had gotten her and The Lump for Easter and dropped her off at her apartment, the lovely little hovel she shares with him.

So no more ranting. No more e-mails. No more ideas to motivate her. It's over. I don't want to sound like the typical Jewish Mother, but when I think of everything I have done for that girl. All the tech weeks in high school I fed kids. Attending every concert she played in and almost every play or musical she has worked backstage. Running to her rescue when she was getting death threats in her senior year and rescuing her when she was suspended from school for bringing a Leatherman tool to school because it had a knife. I have bailed her out twice when she spent all her spending money in college. I have hidden things from her aunt (who paid for her college) so her head wouldn't explode. I never said a word when she announced she flunked her courses in England because she never went to class. I let her live with me for 14 months free so she could save her money. I have turned the other way when she dated boys that I deemed not good enough for her. I have obviously done it all wrong because all I get is an earful that she can no longer be around me. Maybe I could learn to live like her father. Oblivious. Ignoring his daughters until they call because they're coming to town whereupon they go out to lunch, a treat I never get. Guess when you live in the same town as your kids, that is a luxury.

From what she said, she missed the deadline to apply for the Italy internship (something I promised her I would make sure she got to if she was offered the opportunity). Apparently, she wants no suggestions or support for me so I am through. It's a clear memory that this very thing is how I lost her father many years ago when I would help him look for jobs after job lost after job loss. I knew the marriage was over the day he said, "If you haven't figured it out, I stopped listening to you a long time ago." I will never forget that knife in my heart, and I will never forget what my daughter said to me last Saturday.

Couldn't sleep so ended up awake till 3 the night before Easter. I had every intention of attending Easter service at the local Episcopal Church. 7:30, 9, 11. I figured I would wake up for one of them, but I did not wake up till noon, and I did not set an alarm. I used to love Easter. I mean, it is the biggie for us Christian. I was often singing in the choir on Maundy Thursday and Good Friday. The day before Easter consisted of dying Easter eggs and finishing the girls' outfits. When I was so active in church back home, I would be at church by 7am for the 8 o'clock service, ate breakfast in between services, waited for the girls to arrive at church only to finish up the hair and outfits that their father barely got on them, only to sing in my 2nd service of the morning, supervise egg hunts, go home for another egg hunt, and collapse. But ever since I moved here, church is painful because I am so lonely. Easter is excruciating. All the families. All the Easter dresses and baskets and joy. By the time we get to the passing of the peace, and everyone has someone to turn to and I have no one, I am practically in tears. (I did go to Ash Wed service because it is a depressing, lonely service. Perfect for me at this stage of my life.) So I could not convince my body to get out of bed for Easter.

I sat in my dark bedroom most of the day. I moved to this town 5 yrs ago because I wanted to be with my kids more than I wanted to be with their father. I spent the 1st 16 months so extactically happy from being in love, but after that, everything has gone downhill. I have gone through 4 jobs: one I quit before it ended, one I was laid off from, one I was fired from, and this one that has no benefits. (And don't even get me started on that subject.) I never dreamed that I would move to a town to be near my daughters only to have my daughters want little to nothing to do with me. It reinforces what a horrible daughter I was to my mother till the day she died. Last summer when I wanted to die, it was thinking of my kids that got me through those horrible days and night. Now I don't even have that to live for. The loneliness and pain is palpable.

Motherhood

While IMing with my "mean" bloggy friend about my current state of depression, he gave me another assignment. And it has a deadline so I must get this out without much thinking. I mentioned something about the fact that sometimes I think I shouldn't have had kids. My older sister had 3 at a very young age, and it was 16 years before I, the "baby" of the family, had children. I don't know what possessed me to do such a thing. It's not as if I longed for children all my life or grew up thinking about being a mother. Like the other parts of my life, it just came along as the next step (college, marriage, children etc). My assignment said I couldn't write the 2 lists below side-by-side but one after the other so they weren't parallel. Here goes:

Why I shouldn't have become a mother:

1. Couldn't afford them (WHAT was I thinking?)
2. Not a good cook or, worse yet, good planner of meals.
3. Not spontaneous (no lemonade stands for my kids)
4. Love to sleep (late and often) yet lived on very little
   
5. Not adventurous enough (no skateboards or roller skates or hand gliding)
6. Our house was never big enough to accommodate more than the 4 us, and sometimes even then, it was too crowded.
7. Not the volunteer kind of mom (no PTO or room mother here)
8. Didn't love my husband enough to pass that along to my kids.
9. My housecleaning skills were questionable (although we didn't live in a pig sty)
   
10. Too loud, emotional, depressed to to have children in the mix.
    

Why I'm a great mother:

1. Great sense of humor (passed that down to my daughters)
   
2. High pain threshold (2 natural births and no tears over skinned knees)
3. When my older daughter turned 2, I learned how to French braid hair.
4. Saw the wonder in a rainbow every time.
5. Strong morals & values (education, commitment, volunteerism, doing the right thing)
6. Could proofread their papers (only thing my degree/expertise was good for)
7. Practical (don't cry over spilled milk)
8. Creative (made all their Halloween costumes)
9. Tried not to worry too much and passed that along to my kids
10. I write thank you notes, send birthday cards, and was nice to old people at church

I Should Have Been More Specific

I received a comment on my previous entry from a stranger. That was kinda weird, thinking someone I don't even know was reading my internet journal. Sure, I know anyone can read this, but who would want to? But seeing my blog reminded me that I have not written in over 3 months. Could be because nothing (I mean practically nothing) has happened in 3 months. But in the last 4 weeks, I have had 3 interviews, bam, bam, bam. The first was with my "dream" job for the 2nd time. That went well, but I did not get it. The 2nd was as a project manager for a publishing company. And the 3rd was for an administrative assistant for the county government. Well, a few days before the 3rd interview, I got an e-mail from the 2nd interview that they wanted to hire me, 4 days after the interview. Part of me was in shock and disbelief because I didn't think anyone offered jobs over e-mail, and the e-mail started out like the standards "thanks but no thanks letter." I couldn't believe I was reading what I was reading. I had to read it twice, even 3 times to make sure I was being offered the job and not just being given the kiss-off. I would receive an offer letter along with the document explaining benefits the next day.

That's when the other shoe dropped. I should have known when I walked into a room for a group interview, and everyone in the interview was the entire team, unlike the other 2 interviews where several interviewed me, but I knew there were a lot more employees elsewhere in the building. All women. For a brief moment, I let myself get excited and planned a mini-vacation since my start date wasn't until November 1. I called to have #1 on the benefits list explained because I couldn't believe what I was reading. No health benefits. Nothing. Sure, they appeared to be a fine group of women and there were sick days and vacation days and comp time, but no health insurance. I was in shock. Incredulous. Angry. Worried. Pissed. Frustrated. I just knew it was because all the other women were married and had their husbands' health benefits. I called an independent insurance agent to find out how much it would cost to get health insurance. Suffice it to say, it would be like making a monthly car payment for a VERY NICE car, but I never get to drive the car... ever. Never. They gave me till Monday to decide.* I sent e-mails to several friends, called sisters, talked to people, and we all came up with one, and only one, conclusion. I had to take the job. In this economy, you just turn down work. I don't have insurance now and no paycheck. At least I will have a paycheck. Many have said to take it and then take the first job with benefits that comes along. But I don't want to work at a job while always looking for another. Yes, I am loyal to a fault, but I don't think it's fair to am employer. Some have told me it's not fair that some companies don't provide benefits. But I canceled plans to visit my friend in Vermont. Looks like I won't be making plans to do anything fun for a very long time. Or, at least, that's the way I feel.

Then it hit me. I should have been more specific. When praying for a job, I should have prayed for one with benefits. Remind me, when I'm praying for a man to pray for one who can still get it up. Make my needs known. Be specific. Next time I pray for a man, I will be praying for one... with benefits!

One sweet friend (from my old job that fired me) said maybe this is God's plan. If so, God has a sick sense of humor. But maybe this is the plan I need to accept. Instead of looking back and thinking, "Mmmm, perhaps that was God's plan," I need to look towards the future and think, "Maybe this is the plan." I don't know. While the job is a good fit, I just can't help but think I will have this black cloud hanging over me. Who knew that the whole time I was looking for a job, I should have been looking for a husband instead.


*The reason they gave me till Monday to decide is a very dear friend from back home died rather suddenly. She was about my age. We went to church together, raised our daughters together. She had chest pains one Tuesday, and her husband took her to the ER. She walked in. They even had to hook her up to machines to determine she was having a heart attack. They did some tests and found out that her blood sugar was sky high. Apparently, she was diabetic but had never gone to the doctor and, therefore, never got it diagnosed or treated. Within 2 days she was transferred to the big university hospital and put on the heart transplant list. WTF? She died the same day as Steve Jobs, the same age, 2 weeks after those first chest pains. My daughters drove back with me to St. Louis for her memorial service. Although they have been to their share of memorial services and funerals, this was the first time they went for the living. That is a big step in maturity, and I was so proud of them. One even brought tissues for me. We since discovered she hated doctors so so never went. And I know she had health insurance. It put things into perspective but, in many ways, made me wonder if I will go to the doctor for yearly physicals and such if I don't have insurance. Still, I wondered why someone with insurance wouldn't take better care of herself. And I worried that, without health benefits, will I take good care of myself? Seems I will have to take better care of myself because I sure as hell can't afford to get sick!

Suck it up and move on

My "demanding" meanie of a blog friend has not surfaced for a week while he is on vacation, but I am going to blog without prodding. I know he is having a wonderful time with his family and only wish I could be there with them. Having been unemployed for 2 summers, I have not enjoyed myself during those summers, thinking I am undeserving of such frivolity. Even if someone handed me a vacation for free, I would probably deny myself, feeling unworthy.

I have not had many nibbles of jobs to apply for recently which is one of the big problems when the largest employer in town bans you from applying. For those curious, I was tenacious in contacting the lawyer, having e-mailed him once and calling twice before I simply walked into his office today in my sweaty walking clothes. He made me wait but gladly met with me to hear my situation. It didn't take him long to conclude that he can be of no help to me. He said it was obvious that my supervisors wanted to get rid of me and used the HIPAA violation as a reason. And since I had not worked there long, there was nothing much we could fight. Suck it up and move on was basically his message. I would have had to file a grievance within 10 days of being fired, and I was still curled up in a ball by then so it's not as if I missed the cut-off by a day or so. Funny, I wasn't that upset by his conclusion. I assumed that's what it would be. I would have been surprised if it had been different. On the good side, he said that people rarely win grievances against the university. I am to contact him if I am denied unemployment in order to file an appeal. I told the lawyer that I had written my side of the story to put in my file, and he encouraged me to send that to my supervisors with a copy to HR which I did at 3:55 in hopes it got to them before the weekend. That felt good to do, and I guess I just need to move on. I found this quote in a book a friend sent me this week:

You have to accept whatever comes and the only important thing is
that you meet it with courage and with the best you have to give.

Eleanor Roosevelt

As before, waking up early and moving is the key as much as I hate it. I woke up early today for a dentist appointment and did not go back to sleep when I got home from my walk. I felt good walking into the lawyer's office without an appointment, determined. I felt good sending that attachment to my file to my former supervisors. I felt good today. I continue to watch "The Waltons" in the afternoons and wondered why. Such a simple life. Listening to each other's stories as entertainment, hard work, writing in long hand, terrific parenting, home cooking, helping others, appreciating every little thing. And if you notice, people during this time worked so hard that they rarely had time to be depressed. And ironically, they were living during the Depression! I think that, alone, sends us a valuable message. May I channel that spirit and hope. I continue to type my friend's family history and marvel at the hardships people from the past had to endure and how easy our lives are now and how whiny we all are, especially me. I think both of these experiences are helping me appreciate my days.

I continue to take deep breaths, try to exercise, stay in touch with friends, appreciate the friends who keep me in their prayers, and thank God for my good health.

Jewel, Lover, Prayer

I've been a very bad blogger. Let the finger wagging begin. I had 3 assignments for the weekend while my "shadow" was away from cyberspace. He's going to reappear tomorrow and find out that I didn't complete my assignments, and, boy, will I be in trouble. When I asked him why he is making me write, he said, "If you were a potter, I would encourage you to make pottery. If you were a painter, I would make you paint. You are a writer. Write." And so I write.

Yesterday's topic was my cat Jewel. I have already written a whole missive about my lovely kitty Jewel, so sweet I named her after my favorite high school teacher. Jewel was a teenage unwed mother, a whore on the street, when my daughter found her. She had nursed her kitties and lived on the street when a neighbor took her to be spayed. If you remember, I assured my daughter that no outdoor cat could willingly become an indoor cat. And yet, from the minute she brought me Clio (her street name), she walked out of her crate, curled up in my lap, and never looked back. The door has accidentally been left opened twice, and she has stayed far away and said, "I don't think so. I did that once. I'm staying in here." She purrs, kisses me, never jumps on things, never misses her litter box, doesn't shed much, and loves her belly to be rubbed. Purr delight.

And then in came McMurphy. A friend of mine just earned her PhD and does not know where the wind will take her. She longs to live in DC where apartments are costly and even more so if you own a pet. So I said I would take her very large black cat named Mr. McMurphy. She is Irish so I assume he is, too. Black Irish. Tee hee! He is beautiful, moves like a gazelle as he jumps on top of the refrigerator and perches on top of the cabinets for a better view. Or to get away from that evil mean bitch Jewel. I had never heard a hiss out of my sweet Jewel until I introduced the interloper. Man, is she pissed. Why would I do this to her? She hisses and bats at him, and he stands there, all 20 lbs of him (you read that right) and says, "What? What did I do?" But I have watched him wait for her around the corner and jump out at her so she will chase at him and hiss and bat her claws at his face like a pugilistic fur toy. He is clawless. And clueless.

She must eat first and get the first lap of fresh water. When she walks through the room, he jumps to different levels of height to stay out of her way. 6 weeks later and they both sleep on the bed with me, but he is relegated to the bottom by a stare while she sleeps next to me. I have watched them eat together now but can hear her low growling the whole time. She does not understand why I had to bring him in to her life. I see other cats get along and dream of the day they will wrap up in each others' fur and give each other kitty baths. I screwed up by not putting one behind a closed door for a week until curiosity overtook one of them. And now I am regretting the way they were introduced to each other. All of sudden, without gradually introducing one another. The basket a friend made Jewel never got the time of day until McMurphy came along, and now she curls up in her kitty basket as if to say, "Mine, mine mine." I'm hoping when the weather gets colder, they will need each other for warmth and be sweet sister and brother to each other. Until then, there's a whole lot of hissing going on.

My next assignment was to describe or explain my first lover. Wow, that is harder than one might think. So we're just going to leave that one alone for now.

My 3rd assignment, not even required in blog form, was to write a prayer. Wow, that is an overwhelming assignment. Profound, powerful. I could just whisper it in my head as I do every night before I got to bed. But I think its important to write the words. But before I do this, let me tell you about my day. I woke up early to wake up my daughter Dorothy for work since she overslept yesterday after only 4 hrs of sleep after working all night. I felt bad since she is working 2 jobs, 40-50 hrs a week while I'm doing jack shit. So after greeting her already awake butt, I promptly went back to bed. Who wakes up at 6:30 on a Saturday morning?? I had a breakfast date at 9:30 and my alarm went off at its usual time which is 7. I stayed in bed and dosed off and on till 8:30 when I got out of bed for a shower. He called and said he would be late so I checked my e-mail and read an e-mail inviting me over to a friend's house for BLTs and ice cream on a hot steamy day. My friend and I showed up at Panera's at the same time for pastries and Diet Coke (Ok, he had coffee, ewww!). I have known this friend since we turned 16 that summer of '73 and now live in the same time. He had called out of the blue the other day and I told him my news which is what prompted breakfast. After small talk, he asked how I really was doing, and I told him. I was hopeful when I told him I was thinking about filing a grievance and getting this off my record. He held my hand and said, "You absolutely have to do this. And if you need the money for a lawyer, do not hesitate to ask." Can you say overwhelmed with gratitude? It wasn't the money; it was the gesture. If any stranger had seen us at the place with my hands in his and tears in my eyes and that sweet look on his face, they might have thought we were having an affair. But we have been the dearest of brother/sister friends for so long that that is almost laughable, and we knew exactly what was going on. And then he said, "What else do I need to do? Kick your butt? Call you once a week? Get you out of the house?" Yes, Yes, Yes, and Yes. We left with a hug while he reminded me to ask if I needed a check. Afterwards, I went to the friends' house for BLT's and ice cream for the rest of the afternoon. I don't think I had been out of the house and away from the tv and my computer for this long in, well, a month. Next up, I went to a friend's new house and helped him straighten him up his living quarters. Then went to Wal-Mart for power strips and to a sports bar for dinner. All total, I was away from the house for 12 hours without a panic attack, without my stomach flip flopping, without shaking with fear at large spaces and loud noises. I tell myself every day but do not remember it well, that once I am out of bed and out in the world, I am much better. Please help remind me.

So my prayer is this, as it is every night:

Dear God, Father, Mother, Creator,
Thank you for my continued good health.
I never want to take that for granted. For that, I am grateful.
Thank you, especially, for those people in my life who love, comfort, and support me.
I could not go through this difficult time without that support. I am blessed.
I don't know what I did to deserve such joyful loving family and friends.
May I never take them for granted.
Watch over x, y, and z (those people I won't mention by name)
who need You to wrap Your loving arms around them.
Lord, give me strength to go on another day.
Grant me courage to do what I need to do.

Where I "Want" to be in a year?

Today's assignment is "Where I want to be in a year." He said, "Not where you see yourself or not where you feel you'll be, but where you want to be." All I thought was "Oh shit."

First, let me explain that one of the symptoms of depression is seeing no future, no hope so how am I supposed to know where the fuck I want to be in a year. Okay, I want to be employed. I want to be happy. I want to be happily employed. But I don't see that possible with my past following me, my past employment history. Ever since I was laid off at the big publishing company and then blackballed from ever working there again, I have not been happily employed (except for that time at Planned Parenthood that I loved more than anything). People should not take liking their jobs for granted.

I want to wake up in the morning and be glad to be alive, not dread another day. I want to wake up and hit the ground running and feel as if I am helping people and doing some good in this world. I want to pay my bills and not worry. I want to go out with friends every once in a while and laugh. Oh God, I want to laugh. I can't even remember what that feels like. I want the weight in my chest to go away. I want my heart to stop beating out of my chest. I want to stop sleeping to avoid life. I want to be powerful and in control. I want my kids to see me the way they saw me when they were growing up, not as this weak, whimpering, depressed shell of a human. I want someone in my life who makes my heart skip a beat when I hear/feel my phone go off or when I see him on-line so we can chat or when I see him in person. I want to feel love again. I want to be loved again. And did I already say, I want to laugh again?

While we're on the subject, I found this yesterday on a website (as I have signed up to received depression news, literally, news about depression, not depressing news). It's as if someone interviewed me and took notes.

Writing in a journal is another technique to get in tune with your moods and feelings, and it "can be very helpful for some people," Viguera adds. When charting or journaling, note any common symptoms or signs of depression and how severe they are, such as:

• A feeling of sadness that persists
• Difficulty sleeping or sleeping more than usual
• Changes in appetite (eating more or less than usual)
• Withdrawing from social interaction
  
• Losing interest in hobbies or pleasurable activities
• Lack of energy
• Problems concentrating and remembering
• Feeling hopeless, helpless, or negative

So, I guess I will be "journaling" more "to get in tune with my moods and feelings." How 'bout I don't want to get in tune with my moods and feelings? They are all too damn depressing.

Writing Assignment

He said I had to write in my blog. He said I needed to get it out on "paper." And because I so want to please him and because he never lies (and tells me this will help), I am compliant.

Since my last entry in March, things went from a little better to absolutely horrible. And I thought I was depressed before. Ha ha ha ha! Once I went to my doctor and doubled my dose of anti-depressants with the occasional lorazepam included, life at that crappy job got a little better. I stopped being so nervous that my horrible supervisors who wanted to see me fired were looking over my shoulder every day and started not caring if no one at work talked to me. I even interviewed for a dream job, and although I didn't get it, I felt uplifted that there might be a future.

And then June 2nd happened. I got fired. I have never been fired from a job in my life. The actual date of events happened June 1st, but my supervisors fired me the next day, 4 weeks ago tomorrow. They said I violated a HIPAA code. As most doctors, nurses, and lawyers will tell you, they hate HIPAA. A concerned professor called The Counseling Center for a 2nd time concerned about a student. He said he had been concerned for 3 semesters, and because the student was an international student (foreign), the professor did not feel the student grasped the seriousness of this behavior. At that point, I reiterated our procedure that involved having the student call and have his name put on a referral list. The referral counselor would return the student's call and take 1 of 3 courses of actions: 1) refer the student to an outside counselor (for the summer); 2) put his name down on a waiting list to be called for a future appointment; or 3) encourage the student to come in as a walk-in (crisis). I could not tell the professor if the student had called us or not or which course of action had been taken, and the professor understood but was still concerned. The professor had told me his name at the beginning of the phone call which I wrote down as a habit.

A few hours later the counselor in charge of referrals came down with the waiting list of student for us to call for appointments. I glanced at the list and noticed no foreign name on it and wondered what happened to this young man. Did he fall through the cracks? She said she had made calls, and these were the students she got ahold of or who called her back when she left a message to do so. When I saw that this student's name was not on the list, in my mind he was not a client of our Center, and, therefore, I could alert the professor that the student was not getting help. Since I had written down the professor's name at the beginning of the earlier conversation, I decided to drop him an e-mail to that effect. Ironically, I couldn't remember the student's name nor can I now so I didn't even use his name in the e-mail (which would have violated FERPA). To make a long story short (Oh my God, I'm making this long story excruciatingly longer.), my supervisors got wind of the e-mail. The next day they called me into their office as I was getting ready to leave and read me my termination letter. They didn't ask for my motivation (which was to help the student) or my intention (which was to help the student) or my side of the story (which was to help the student). I started to cry and said, "All I was thinking was getting that student some help." I went to my office, and they followed as I packed a box of my things and sobbed the whole time. Damn, how I wish I had the guts to have said, dry-eyed, "I'd rather be fired for helping a student than keep my job while doing nothing." They needed to hear that. Can I have a do-over?

To say I am devastated is an understatement. I am a single woman barely making ends meet from paycheck to paycheck who needs benefits and has nothing right now. Nothing except my health. Each day and each night, I thank God for my health. I have been thinking that I need to make a grateful list every day so I can snap out of this depression. All I have been thinking lately is what a failure I am. The word keeps resonating in my brain every day. Failure failure failure. I majored in English which was stupid. I married the wrong man. I failed at teaching (or at least quit before I could make it a career). I failed at publishing when I couldn't stay on with the publishing company after being laid off. I failed at finding a job after my lay-off. I failed at falling in love when I managed to fall in love with a drunk. I failed at my first job on campus. Fail fail fail is all I could hear in my head. And now I have failed at helping some student and lost my job over trying. As much as I don't want to wake up some mornings, I know not to try anything permanent because I would probably fail at that, too. Will anything ever go right for me? When will this cycle of failure end? When will this dark cloud leave me?

I would not be coping today if it weren't for my friends who check in on me almost daily. My dearest bloggy friend who "demanded" I write in my blog, who called me during a panic attack last week and talked me back down to earth while hugging me through the airwaves, who texts me that I matter, who wags his finger at me lovingly for not calling when I need him. Where would I be without him? My friend who is moving and "demanded" I come help her pack and forced me out of my dark room and made me feel better by getting out of the house. What a better day I had because of her. My bloggy "sister" who sent me her family tree to retype to keep my hands (and mind) busy. I'm actually enjoying learning about her Irish family. She calls from time to time to make sure I'm okay. She's been where I am. My one friend at work who calls every once in a while to make sure I am okay and offers prayers for me and is convincing me I need to file a grievance against these incompetent supervisors. She makes me feel stronger than I think I am. My old high school buddy, who I barely knew in high school but have become reacquainted with on facebook, and his girlfriend send me messages of love from Florida. What did I do to deserve this kindness? My best friend who I've known since 1st grade calls to check in on me and has me come to her house for comfort and lets me hold her grandson to remind me what a future would be like with a grandbaby in my arms. I love her like a sister. And my sisters who call or e-mail to check up on me.

The high school friend's girlfriend reminded me today from Al-Anon, "When I got busy, I got better." Today was an example of that. Helping someone pack. Tomorrow I am going for a walk with a choir friend. And I am going to grow a set of balls and follow through on filing a grievance against the university for not putting me on administrative leave first while reviewing the situation. I have to get mad. No one asked me my side or care what m intentions were and that is reprehensible in my opinion. And the question remains whether I violated a HIPAA code to begin with since it's fraught with gray areas. On good days I remember the friends who care so deeply for me. Not everyone is so blessed to be surrounded by so many angels.

So is my assignment done, dear friend? I think I feel better just getting this down on "paper." Keep after me. I love you for loving me.

No Joy in Mudville

It's true. I have hit the bottom of my depression and I am living a joyless life. I am so miserable right now that waking up and going to work takes every bit of my effort. I've just spent most of the weekend in bed in a dark room watching television and napping. For the first time in my life I truly understand not wanting to live. I am not living a happy life, a fulfilled life, a life worth living, and sometimes I wish I would just not wake up. There's a thin line between wanting to kill yourself and wanting not to wake up. I am walking that fine line.

My new job is not working out. I have been brought in and given a warning that there needs to be immediate improvement. Or what? I don't know. They would have terminated me earlier, but they found a problem in the system that they didn't do it soon enough and now must wait. So I am just waiting for the other shoe to drop. (It's too complicated to explain.) I have done everything I have been asked and quickly, but I think I am the rebound "boyfriend" from the previous person they really liked. I think I've been set up from the beginning and destined to fail. There is someone at the front desk who won't talk to me... oh, except to correct me. That's how she is showing me the ropes. I just started crying the other day when she told me one more thing that I screwed up. She has never said "hello" or asked me how I am since I started in November. I have done everything I can can to be friendly and helpful. When anyone needs me to check in students at the front desk, I am ready, willing, and able, but that doesn't seem to count. I took an 8-hr statistics calls the other Saturday and didn't understand a thing, but that doesn't count. I walk around at lunch in tears wondering what I have done wrong. I leave every day dejected and in tears. I have no friends there and am terribly lonely and frustrated.

It all goes back to 2003 when I was laid off from my job of 18 yrs at a major publishing company. If I had not lost my job as an editor, I would still be there, still be living in St. Louis, and probably still married. Amazing what you can put up with when one thing in your life is going ok. Or even 2. I had a great job I loved and great kids who filled up my life. When I lost my job, my kids were on the way out the door and my ex was not very supportive so my world fell apart. That's when I moved to be closer to my daughters. Ok, so I did it all wrong. I poured myself into my children's lives, and now that they are grown, I am nothing. I feel like nothing. But going back to 2003, I spent 3 yrs in St. Louis looking for work with this stupid English degree. I never did find something except temp work here or there, administrative assistant work that paid 1/2 what I was making. My life has not been complete since then. Oh, did I mention that I tried to find work back at the publishing company but was blackballed by one of the higher-ups who didn't like me for some unknown reason. It took my friends (which included my former boss) and me a year of interviews to find this out. To this day, I don't know what I did to piss her off since I never worked for her or with her.

So I packed my things up, left my husband, and moved 2 hrs away to be closer to my kids and find work in a college town. My first job was as a sexual health educator for Planned Parenthood. For 18 months, I had the best job in the world and was the happiest I have ever been. (It helped that I had met the love of my life at the same time.) I was no longer living with a man who took me for granted and never wanted to have sex with me. But that job soon evaporated with the budget crunch, and I was back on the job market. I soon found a job as an admin asst at the university and enjoyed my work. That is, with the exception of working next to the most unprofessional, inappropriate, disrespectful man I have ever had to horror to meet. He came and went as he pleased while I answered his phone and took his messages. He, of course, is still working there while I got laid off due to budget cuts at the university. After 4 months of unemployment, I landed this next job which is not working out and making my life miserable.

This is not how I thought my life would turn out. I am trying to spend less time on facebook because, frankly, I can't stand reading how happy and successful all these "friends" are. Vacations, grandchildren, shopping sprees, happy happy people who have wonderful lives. I am barely hanging on. I am so fucking tired of saying "At least I have my health." I realize I am blessed to have 2 healthy children. I am tired of this lonely feeling in the pit of my stomach. I am tired of feeling worthless and useless. My sisters want to take me on a vacation, and I can't even think that far away. I can barely think about tomorrow because it's just one more day of misery, one more day of loneliness and worthlessness. I just wish I didn't wake up some morning. Then I wouldn't hurt so much.

Part III or How Good It Is to Have Insurance Benefits

Now do you know why I split this up into 3 parts? Too much for one entry, but I am writing this down for me since I doubt that anyone reads my blog any more. It's best this way.

The entire summer I did not go to the dentist like I needed. My annual physical and mammogram were due, but I knew I couldn’t get it. I called 2 insurance companies that offered free mammograms out of a boobie van, but neither called me back for an appointment. Being the sister of a breast cancer survivor, all I could think about was how this would impact me if I missed my yearly mammogram.

Luckily for me, my 3-month supply of drugs came the week I was laid off and now they were running out just as I was hired. What a wonderful coincidence!! Something was finally going right. So I finally got a job and was rehired back at the university the first of November. A week after I started back to work my next 3-month supply of drugs came to my door. Hallelujah. I am a lucky woman despite all the shit I have had to endure.

UNTIL THREE WEEKS into my new job. I went to apply for benefits before the deadline and couldn’t get into the application site so I called the benefits office. The reason I couldn’t apply for benefits??? That’s because I not only STILL HAD THEM, but I had them the whole time I was laid off. Yes, you read that right. Apparently, my July paycheck paid for August's bennies, and my September paycheck (the one that was late because of that signature) paid for October's. And oh, by the way, the benefits' rep said, "You OWE us for November. How would you like to pay for that?" Are you kidding me? I could have done medical things this whole time? And now I had to pay my insurance retroactively for a month when I didn’t work so I don’t go without for a month (on paper) and have to start up again. Did you get that? In my favor, the benefits lady called me the next week and said they would “help” me out by taking it out of my next 3 paycheck in equal amounts so I was not shocked by the deduction in one paycheck.

How stupid could I be? When I told the benefits lady what happened, she said, “Well, it was explained in that packet that they gave you the day you were laid off.” (I guess it’s a standard packet for lay-offs.) Ultimately, this is clearly all my fault. Depression can do that to a person. I don’t even remember weeks 11 and 12 as I never got out of my dark room, not once. But can I just say, when you lay off someone after their kid’s wedding and when they are in a state of shock, you might want to point out two things: one, sign that piece of paper getting the paperwork processed before you leave the building, and two, don’t lose sleep over your benefits. They call what happened to me as “temporary work stoppage” and I was covered with benefits as long as I got a paycheck because they always take the deductions out a month ahead, not behind. Instead, they clearly did not have their shit together, and with my shit not together, it was a clusterfuck.

Now I need to call for my annual physical, my pap smear, my dental check-up, my prescription renewal, and my cat’s vet appointment. Okay, I don’t think my benefits cover that last one, but I sure didn’t think I was covered the entire time I was laid off either so I might be in for another surprise. I was glad when 2010 was over and we can move forward to 2011. Seems odd years are better for me as 2007 and 2009 were good years and 2006, 2008, and 2010 were sucky.

But speaking of sucky and depressing, I have come to the conclusion that now that I am in my 50s, life is like "Ole Man River." It just keeps gong along. I am in a job where I have no friends and have to be quiet most of the time. I sit by myself, do my various jobs, eat by myself at my desk, walk around campus by myself, and am never allowed to be myself. I guess teaching in my early years and teaching sex ed were my happiest times for being myself. There is very little interaction between or among people at work because it is a counseling center where we all must be vewwy vewwy quiet. And don't give me any shit about not being able to be quiet. I can. But today, I got frantic because I was on a phone that was unfamiliar to me and lost a call. It was a parent, and I was trying to transfer her call. When it didn't work out, I called over to the young man whose phone it is for help. Well, apparently, I was too frantic in front of a client, and the very calm, very quiet woman who works there "told" on me. Our boss came into my office later in the afternoon and wanted my side of the story, but I thought, "You have got to be kidding me??" I didn't even remember a client at the desk when the phone was fucking up. That very quiet, very calm, very austere woman has never said an encouraging word or a kind word or a helpful word to me since I have started. She is not mean or unkind. It's just her personality and her culture (African). I was assured that the young man at the front desk would have to start dressing more appropriately since we're, well, at the front desk, and in the 3 months I've been there all I have seen him wear is ratty nasty jeans and wrinkled tops (tee or shirts). But I would never think to run to the boss to complain.

So all afternoon I have been thinking about happiness and whether I will ever be happy at work and will I ever feel like I belong and will I ever enjoy my life ever again? Mind you, not having a relationship with anyone at work is far better than my last job where I worked with that totally unprofessional and inappropriate asshole. I really liked my publishing job and feel that once I was laid off in '03, my life has never and will never be the same. I made good money, was good at what I did, traveled, had wonderful friends at work, and felt a sense of accomplishment with each project. I floated around from job to job for years after that, eventually moving to leave my husband (because I couldn't find a decent job and be single in that town). My favorite job in all my life was teaching sex ed for Planned Parenthood, and my favorite year was 2007 when I was in love. I am convinced I will never have a more wonderful job or a more wonderful love or a more wonderful life. And that's ok. I'm not putting myself out there because there is no "out there" to put myself in. That single tenured, soon-to-be-retired professor with a working prostate who loves to go to the theater and travel simply doesn't exist. That wonderful job where I can be myself (outgoing, fun-loving, inventive, motivated) and have friends to go to lunch with and enjoy in and out of work simply doesn't exist. Not in my current life. Not in my field... which is nothingness. I don't have a field.

Add to it a daughter who lives with me and has no goals to move on. I have told her to have something in mind by June 1 or she's out. She does not clean her room, she does not clean up after herself, she drops by to take a shower and then goes back over to her boyfriend's to spend the night. I am embarrassed and frustrated by her actions and lack of actions. She has so many options, and I understand that she might have "option shock," but how many college grads get the opportunity to veg out, work, save money, and decide what she wants to be "when she grows up." I am grateful that she is healthy, not knocked-up, drug-addicted, or unemployed. She is just fucking irresponsible for the most part. I never got that perk in life. I graduated in Dec at the age of 21 and moved to the big city to teach and be on my own. (And in daughter's defense, I would have killed my mother if I had moved in with her after college graduation. Dorothy's moving in with me must speak well to our relationship.)

And then I have to be there when my other daughter calls to complain about her year and her classes and her students. That's what moms are for. But it's only at her convenience. She is rarely, if ever, there for me and hasn't been there since the divorce. Our relationship is completely different since then, and while I don't want to "blame" the divorce, it just seems like a huge coincidence.

Guess I better figure out that odd phone at work so no one "tattles" on me for getting frantic when I lose someone while trying to transfer a call. I guess I would just give my life a B- or C+ right now. Just blah. Not depressing, but certainly not all that happy.

Part II cont... How depression can really fuck up your life

Let’s fast forward now to July 20^th when I returned from my daughter’s wedding, wishing I had taken more time off. The dean’s assistant called me into his office before I even had a chance to sit down and change my shoes. We had a new dean start June 1, and he had not given me the time of day in 7 weeks. Now I know why. You don’t get to know someone you’re about to axe. Before I sat down (with my notepad and paper to take notes…Ha!), he said, “I hate to be the bearer of bad news…” After that I didn’t hear much. His assistant was there to serve as a witness in case I went postal, I guess. I heard him say, “I assure you that this is a budget cut, not a performance issue.” He let me know that I could be COBRA’d into benefits, but I almost laughed at that because if you’ve ever dealt with COBRA, you know you can’t afford this option when you’ve just lost your job. I remember he said I would get paid for 2 more weeks. That was my severance, and I assumed the last of my benefits, too. I was handed a packet of papers and told I could come back later to clean off my desk if it was too hard now with people in the office. WHAT PEOPLE? The asshole hadn’t shown up yet that morning, and the woman I had driven back and forth to work who was walking in the summer months hadn’t shown up to work. Overslept as usual while I held down the fort. I suspect they both knew what was coming and were too chicken to show up.

So I did what I knew how to do on Tuesday: send out thank you letters… because who else would do that? Halfway through, my printing privileges were cut off. I fought back the tears because I knew if I started, there was no stopping. Every few minutes the dean’s assistant came back to me to rip another epaulet off my coat like they do in the French Foreign Legion. “Can I have your ID badge?” “We need your keys.” “I have to get your procard.” Why didn’t she have a check list of things she needed and come to me ONCE, not several times. I texted 2 friends and my sister and kept a stiff upper lip while I cleaned things off while waiting for my printing rights to be restored so I could finish the 60 letters to donors. Eventually, I got the cart so I could take my things out. (Amazing what we amass in such a short time.) I filled out the paperwork that included my passwords and contact information and left it with the dean’s assistant. As I started down the hall, a good friend (who had joined choir with me) saw me and asked if I needed help. I did not want any, but she insisted. She ran down a floor while I took the elevator and waited with my things while I went to get my car. I didn’t dare start to cry, and I did not want to hug this friend good bye for fear I would, but again she insisted. I jumped in my car and sobbed all the way home, scared out of my gourd, dejected, humiliated, depressed, angry, frightened, mortified. The pieces were not coming together yet, but they would little by little.

But first I dropped a note off in the mailbox of my former boss who had decimated my character. I thanked her (in my sarcastic way) for making the last 3 weeks of my time there the most unbearable, humiliating time of my life. I assumed that everyone knew about my review when, in fact, they probably were privy to my lay-off and felt uncomfortable around me. But why the silent treatment? But more importantly, I taped her house key to the note and said, “Do not fear I will come to your house any more with your key. And you might have to get someone else to scoop your cats’ poop when you’re out of town.” Yep, that’s right. I watched her cats when she was out of town.

I took to my room in the dark and crashed. I gave myself that day to feel sorry for myself, no, that week before I would pull myself up and start looking for work. After all, I had 2 weeks’ pay! The guy I am/was seeing at the time came by after work so worried and upset for me. When he wanted to take me to the local bar, I suggested that I have a glass of wine and he be the designated driver. He looked at me like I was explaining quantum equations. Nope, he started ordering drinks for himself because, like I said, he was so worried and upset. I shook my head, knowing I had better find me another man. One who doesn’t drink this time.

I sat in that dark bedroom with Dr. Oz, The Ghost Whisperer, Oprah, and Dr. Phil for the rest of the week. (The shows, not the actual people) I did sign up for unemployment but thought they would deny me until my 2 weeks 'pay was over. Oh well. I got a letter from The Division of Employment Security the next week to call because of a glitch. I assumed it was the 2-weeks’ pay when, in fact, they wanted to know whether I was faculty. If I were faculty at the university, my July lay-off might become an August rehire so they wouldn’t pay out. But since I was staff, that wasn’t going to happen. I remember saying, “Is there anything else I need to do to get benefits started?” and the woman saying, “No, you are good to go.” Stupid, stupid, stupid. It never dawned on me that she meant…”in regards to this query” because I interpreted it to mean that I didn’t need to do anything in order to get unemployment benefits. That stupid decision made in the height of depression cost me over thousands of dollars.

A few weeks later I got an e-mail through facebook from the dean’s assistant. Do you remember I said I left my contact information with the office before I left? Do you realize that having worked there for 2 years, everyone had my personal e-mail and cell #? This woman and I weren’t even facebook friends and this is how she contacted me??? I know tons of people who choose not to get messages through facebook so would have never received this very important e-mail. She mentioned that payroll had not received my signed whatever form from that packet I was given on my last day. I never even looked at that packet that I thought merely explained my stupid COBRA benefits that I would never be able to afford. So I e-mailed payroll and explained the problem and assured them I would get this signed piece of paper to them ASAP. Apparently, it was something about not suing them for being laid off and they couldn’t give me that 2 weeks of pay without it. Stupid stupid stupid. Again, when she was coming to me constantly that day to ask for things to be returned, why didn’t she point out that I had to sign something before I left rather than wait 3 weeks now for the signature to get paid? With that done, I would get that 2-weeks of pay but “we” had missed the cut-off date for it to be done expeditiously. Another fuck up, but I move on. I cannot sleep and often stay up till 5 every morning. I wake up every day around noon or 1 even though everyone assures me I should go exercise and get out in the sub every day. Waking up to watch Dr. Oz, which is on at 1 here, was my goal every day. I would apply for jobs which is done entirely on-line these days, never forcing anyone to get out into the sunshine or mingle with people. I always got dressed and always made my bed, but short of that, I often found myself in a darken room day after day, too depressed to get out of my bedroom. It wasn’t the lay-off. It was that damn review that did me in.

I did not get a call for an interview until week #8. And remember, I have never once gotten onto the unemployment website to report my time. Luckily, I was smart enough to keep accurate records of who I contacted, for what position, when, and their response. However, that meant nothing in the end. Sometime in September I noticed that money had reached my bank account. I stupidly thought that it was unemployment when it turned out to be that 2 weeks’ pay that was late in coming because of that signature I owed them. This is important information. Halfway through October, I realize something is up and call The Office of Employment Security. That woman says my account had been closed because they hadn’t heard from me 28 days past my registering. WTF?? What have I done now?? I forgot or, in my depressed stupor, never updated my status weekly. (I had some savings that was I was using to pay my bills.) The woman and I were in shock and she scrambled to try to save me by offering for me to request my unemployment benefits retroactively. She sent me the forms dating back to July 20^th in hopes I could log all my contacts and would get paid. And remember that log I kept? Thank God, because I now had weeks and weeks of paperwork to fill out to get paid retroactively. I did so gladly in hopes it would work. Long story, short. It did not. I was denied. Stupid stupid stupid. I can repeal, but I haven’t figured that out.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Part I

I wrote and wrote and wrote today and after 5 pages realized no one would read it. So I am parceling out the next bits of information in installments. And I didn't write this for anyone but myself. I just needed to get it out. (My HR friend in Boston is going to have a field day with this one.)

Ok, how’s this for feeling stupid stupid stupid?? Or otherwise titled: How depression can fuck you over big time. And I mean BIG TIME. But that may take till Parts 2 and 3 to explan to bear with me. Details. Okay, so I lost my job in July. I was devastated to say the least, but I have been through a job loss before. That’s not what really knocked me off my feet. I hate to divulge these not-so-pretty details, but they play a big part in my crash of the Summer of 2010.

My boss, who I really really liked and admired, was retiring July 2^nd. Two days before she retired, she reviewed me. Now, get this? I had not been reviewed since I had started 2 years earlier! I had assumed it was because we got no raises at the university so why bother with a review. I take that back. She tried to review me at 6 months, but because the asshole I worked with who had my job before me wouldn’t release information about my job, I was in no way, shape, or form ready to take over from him at 6 months. So she said she would review me later when I had a better grasp of my job. Make it clear that the young man whose position I took over (and was now the event planner for the college) was the most unprofessional, inappropriate, juvenile asshole I have ever had the pleasure of working with. We do not have flex time at the university, but he came and went as he pleased. As the events coordinator, it is understandable that he would take some flex time right after he coordinated an event and worked overtime. No grudges there. But he did it ALL THE TIME. Came in around 10, left at 10:30 for a soda at McDonalds, came back at 11, went to lunch at 11:30 for 2 hrs, and this went on day after day after day. In the 22 months I worked there, he was at work ON TIME fewer than 5 times. But of course, I had to answer his phone (which I am always happy to do), but he would never say where he was so I looked like an idiot on a daily basis. And then because of control issues, he would leak out information about my job a little at a time, watching me fall on my face over and over. He loved watching this, and yet I handled it my way. He loved taking advantage of me. I tried my best to make the situation lighthearted. I joked when he joked, answered his phone, took his messages, tried to get along, tried to do things on my own when I could, and did anything he asked of me (in the area of planning events). I can’t tell you the number of times he planned something and then didn’t show up and I was left coordinating the event.

So back to my review. TWO days before my boss retired, she gave me a review that knocked me off my feet. I have never in all my years of working read such a horrible piece of criticism. She blamed me for everything wrong that ever happened over the 2 years I had worked there. Said I was negative, not a team player, inappropriate, and had asked to be treated so poorly by this co-worker. I sat there in her office incredulous. I was in shock. Never once had she given me any direction or goals, said she did not like my work, felt I was inadequate. I did everything she ever asked of me, made her travel arrangements, paid her bills for reimbursement, ordered her supplies, redid every file n that office, made sure her office ran smoothly during 3 her surgeries. (Since she was retiring and knew it, she got some maintenance work done.) She indicated I was not happy there and needed to look elsewhere to find fulfillment in life. I kid you not. (Mind you, I had just orchestrated a retirement party for her the week before.) So I took this review rather hard. I sat there devastated and couldn’t speak while trying not to cry. When I took a breath, I said, “I can’t respond right now.” And I got on my tennis shoes while she said, “Go get some fresh air.” I walked out of the building and started sobbing uncontrollably. Deep, gasping sobs. I had no idea the implications, but I was devastated that (a) someone thought of me like this and (b) I had been given no indications this was coming. While walking to get some air, my daughter (the bride) called. There was no way I could hide my heaving sobs as she asked, “What’s wrong, Mom?” For the first time in a long time, she was so supportive of me. She was so angry with my boss. She knew I thought do highly of her, and she had hated the little pipsqueak I worked with for the entire time because of the way he treated her when she called or dropped by my office. She had no tolerance for his juvenile and inappropriate behavior even when I defended him and said he was good at what he did. She was livid. So she suggested we blow that “banana stand” and go shopping for her bridesmaids' gifts. Luckily, I had my tennis shoes on, my phone and debit card with me. So I texted my boss and said I was taking a sick day. No joke. Left my desk as is, light on, computer on, shoes, purse, backpack still sitting there at my cube. As she was taking the office out for her retirement lunch that day, I told her to go without me. She texted back that lunch would not be the same without me and she would reschedule for the next day when I returned. So off to the outlet mall we went.

When I returned the next day (all my things still at my desk), not one person said a word to me from that day forward. I kid you not. No one asked where I had gone. No one wondered why I left my light on. We all went to lunch and I was reserved, and the mood was definitely somber, but no one engaged a conversation with me. The next day, my boss’s last day, I left a long letter on her desk telling her how devastated I was by her review and that I felt I needed to write a rebuttal for my file. I told her that everyone must know what happened because no one would talk to me, and I was humiliated beyond belief. I got a lot out of my system but knew this format was not professional. Besides, she had not given me a copy of my review for me to approach point by point. (Remember, I had walked out.) I had decided I would take the afternoon off so I did not have to say good bye to her. She asked me to come in around 11 and talk because she didn’t want to leave “that way.” So I listened to her defend her piece of garbage while I sat there stone-faced. When I got up, she asked for a hug. You read that right. She said how much she enjoyed working with me and she hoped this didn’t put a wedge between us. I kid you not. I had to bite my lip from crying all over again. So there you have it. No way to repair the damage. No way to redeem myself. No way to make any goals because, guess what, Folks, she didn’t give me any. So off I went for my July 4^th weekend to keep a stiff upper lip at my daughter’s bridal shower while my world was crashing all around me.

For the next 2 weeks I worked in silence, writing my rebuttal, doing last-minute projects while waiting for them to hire her replacement. The co-worker continued to come and go as he pleased, never talking to me, eventually going on vacation. The woman in the next office I had befriended and driven back and forth to work for 2 years because she didn’t have a car never said another word to me. And so I sent my rebuttal to the appropriate people, going over everything she claimed point by point. I was humiliated at the number of people who would see my review, at having to work with those people and face them again. I was devastated that my reputation was ruined because of this idiot I worked with. I mentioned in my rebuttal letter that he had spent a week sexually harassing me till I put a stop to it. I had tried every way I could eventually yelling, "STOP. DON'T EVER SAY THAT TO ME AGAIN." My boss had told me to handle it on my own, and after I handled it on my own and reported the situation to his supervisor, her response was, “I better have a talk with him. He did that to the other woman who worked here before you.” WTF???

At one point, my boss called me and suggested I started looking for a job elsewhere on campus, and I said, "Who would hire me with your review in my file? You have made it impossible for me to make my next move." She said, "Oh, no one reads those things." Seriously??? If she was unhappy with my work and really cared about my future, could she have not written me a glowing review and told me verbally that I stunk. Oh, let's back up the train. If she was really competent, could she not have reviewed me at 6 months and again at a year??? Now she was retired and her life was a bed of roses.

Part II: Was it all a plot?

T minus 12 hours

In 12 hours I will wake up for my new job. Mind you, I have not woken up BEFORE noon in 16 weeks. Seriously. There have been a few days when I had something going on around 9 or 10 and had to drag myself out of bed, but for 95% of those days, I slept till noon. Sometimes 1. Now, if I had to do this over (OH GOD, SHOOT ME NOW), I would take my friends' advice: wake up on a regular schedule and exercise or volunteer. In short, WEAR SHOES. Not only have I not woken up before noon in 16 weeks, I have not worn shoes in that time. Ok, the occasional tennis shoes when I got into the routine of taking walks. I am going to die tomorrow. Do you think my new boss would agree to a 10-2 work day so I can get home to take a nap and watch "Oprah"? And go barefooted? Pleeeeease!!

If you haven't figured out, I finally got a job... after 16 weeks of gut-wrenching depression. I spent the first week curled up in my bed in a dark room fading in and out between sleep and tears. I promised myself I would only do that for a week and then I would get going. Well, that never happened. Some weeks were worse than other. I didn't get an interview until Week #8. I found no reason to wake up. I didn't want to volunteer. It's not as if I had retired and were enjoying my life of leisure and wanted to help others. And I know now that it would have been helpful to help those less fortunate, but I was so embroiled in my depression and grief and pain, that I could not see outside my hole. There were over 200 applicants for this position, and they narrowed it down to 5 interviewees. I was one of 2 finalists and was flabbergasted that I got the job since I have been very pessimistic lately.

I'm back at the university. I was so willing to give up that part of my life since they're the ones who screwed me over. Well, to be honest, they didn't screw me over. My former boss, who is happily retired now and oblivious to what he did to me, is who screwed me over, but that's a story for another day. It's very difficult to live in a college town, the same college you attended and pretend you don't care and wanted nothing to do with "Bully for ole' Mizzou, rah, rah rah, Mizzou, RAH!" You can understand. I had one interview with a company just up the street, and I was thrilled with the idea that I could walk to work and never go back to campus.

But since I live in a college town and the university is the largest employer in town, I'm sort of stuck with it. And this will be a good fit. Everyone is so thrilled for me. I am feeling much better these days. And I couldn't have gotten here without my wonderful friends and family. Supportive and comforting friends who have gotten me through this very very rough 4 months of hell. Much of it I brought on myself by not following the "rules." (See above in regards to alarm clocks and shoes) I think I would have slapped me a long time ago, and yet my friends (and you know who you are) have loved me through this whole wretched period of my life.

I may try to keep going on the blog while I work through some of this. I don't have many followers, but for the first time, maybe this whole thing is for me.