Unraveling my Yellow Tape: February 2013

I'm sitting here banging away at the Loser Office, eh um, I mean Unemployment Office, at an ancient computer with a screen that was probably born before I was, and sitting next to people who, like me, were probably summoned here by some unseen beastly political force that loves to act on formality instead of real need. I think I got the letter on Wednesday, and I was called to this questionable meeting in this very white and poorly designed office, which was probably quickly erected due to the country's ongoing employment, or lack thereof, demise. They gave me less than a week's notice, which lucky for me (and them) was fine. I guess that's because they think we have nothing better to do.

I mean gawd, we aren't working. We can't possibly be doing something productive like planning out the future bloody attack on our previous employers who just threw us out like last weeks Chinese leftovers that were stinking up the middle shelf on the fridge.

Noooo, we wouldn't be possibly doing something like spending three hours a day in the car picking up and dropping off kids, shuttling cats around from house to house (mine- his name happens to be Tennessee, and it's not because I'm a Vols fan. I'm Tar Heel born and bred.). We wouldn't be somehow buying groceries at alarming rates. I feel like I know all the cashier's names and favorite colors at Aldi, maybe even their favorite candy bar which I've noticed a few of them seem to be gnawing on quite frequently.

Because, when you are unemployed, you eat a lot. I keep finding myself standing in the kitchen, with the fridge door gaping open and my neck hanging lifeless and tilted, fingers strumming the top of the door with guilt quickly inducing. Yesterday I had restraint, and forced myself to eat just two fat- free turkey and swiss cheese roll-ups and some blueberries and wannabe Greek yogurt. Today, I lost the battle. It was a lunch and breakfast of coffee, swiss chocolate roll-ups instead and corn chips with 7 layer dip leftover from our little suare Saturday night with the girls, and Joe. He didn't stay, but he would have had I politely insisted. He's not one for force.

When you are unemployed you also have time to work out-a lot more than you normally would if you are a single parent, and if you are smart, you spend more time at the gym, like I have because everyone knows I'm just an encyclopedia of knowledge. Yep, a walking computer. That's me. My mornings spent at the gym have taught me that not all Pilate's classes are the same, and that not all instructors have care in their hearts for the out of shape, fruit-shaped moms whose idea of working out is carrying 6 bags of groceries in the house in one trip. Heavy lifting. But I have rekindled one friendship through my mornings at the Dowd, the infamous gay Y, as my friend Chris and every other man in Charlotte has jovially coined. I bumped into another mom from Sarah's preschool days. She was one of the cool moms, not the soccer mom, not the overbearing, overprotective hovering mom. Some of them just made my skin crawl in ways that would scare a python. We did some class that was taught by this half horse half human chic, that generated new muscles in my body that I never knew I had. I had to lower myself onto the toilet seat for 4 days, and forget about taking the stairs. It was one step at at time. And it was sheer brutality. I will not give up though. Partially because I joined this fitness challenge, and I have to try out new routines and classes to be able to finish strong. (Notice I didn't say Live Strong. Lance is such a poser. I can't stand him. I knew it the whole time. It is impossible to win that many Tour de Frances in a row. It didn't take a genius to figure that one out. Leave it to the good old US Government to dole out all those endorsements. Millions in fact. Don't get me started. But I will say that it took one determined lawyer to unravel Lance's yellow tape. He did happen to work in the DA's office, so kudos there US Gov. OK, sorry I'm done.)

Somehow, all the working out has only increased my seemingly inevitable and predictable weight gain from my utter laziness, ergo, lack of continuous employment, by a fraction. I think I actually lost a pound. I am being generous. It could be just half a pound, but who's counting? Ok, fine. I am. I get on the scale every other day. It's a mix of vanity and destitution. I want to see the lower number because somehow I will feel vindicated for my working out and so I will have an excuse to have a glass or two of wine while I'm cooking the next horrible meal for the family. If the number goes up, fuck it. I'll just wait a few extra days, and then oops, I accidentally knocked the scale off the tile, forcing it to misjudge the actual weight. I just learned that trick the other day to my chagrin. Who needs any more tricks up their sleeves?

Back to being useless. As I'm sitting here, doing exactly what those signs say not to do- which is use the computers for anything other than finding a JOB, I'm realizing that I am not a good follower of rules. I believe the term my friend used when speaking of his recruiting LPL advisors was, "compliance nightmare". I was tickled when he said it- partially because I can relate, partially because I have a torrid love affair with words. I am not a compliance nightmare, however. I just like to make up my own rules, and follow them. It doesn't mean that yours are bad. It just means that I do what I want, and I feel that my mind is capable enough of making decisions for itself. And that is just what I intend on doing for the rest of my life. So you can take it how you want to take it or not take it at all. I quit caring as of right this instant-at least for the time being. I'm no fortune teller. At least I can't put that on my incredibly jumbled resume yet. That's another story in itself. Prospective employers probably look at my resume and think, "Damn this girl doesn't know what she wants to be when she grows up. Red Flag." But what they don't know is that it's really a Freak Flag, which is probably worse when you think about it. Wow. That even scared me a little typing it out.

These are the types of games your mind plays with you during periods of unemployment. You start to question your worth, your identity, even your sanity. We all go through deserts and valleys but it's always important to also remember that the mountains are up ahead, where you can deeply breathe in the crisp air and taste the pure unfiltered water. You can smell the fragrant pines, and hear the cones crunching under your boots, feeling the cool breeze slip over your sun kissed cheeks. It's really hard to keep that mindset when you are constantly fighting demons, but it works for me on many occasions. Right when I feel completely deflated, attacked and defeated, I realize that there are better times ahead. And that is something worth thinking about over and over and over again. I might not be a teller of the future, but I can definitely be a visionary, and envision myself in places that I've never been. Frankly, that's what keeps me going sometimes. I know you probably think it's just my Coach purse collection and my Rant Red lipstick, but it's not. Those do help though.

I guess for me the truth is, that you are never fully happy when you are unemployed. Actually, I would imagine that any time you have the two letters u and n leading your adjectives in your sentences, you are probably not in a good mental place. That's speculation, but it sounds about right.

But it makes me wonder, if it's just a paycheck that we are all are looking so desperately for, or if it's a link that binds us together, a common denominator, an indicator of our self- worth and intrinsic value. As I look around this room, and the adjoining room, I see faces that scream of desperation, of frustration, of sadness. Being unemployed certainly does something to an ego. The word crushing comes to mind immediately. I know I personally, have laid in bed many a nights, lying awake when I should have been long sleeping, thinking that I was worthless, like I was suffocating on my inability to render myself worthy of finding a job.

The range of emotions during this time of uncertainty is wider than the ocean, and one day can lead to happiness, and the next day can lead you down a dusty road that ends in the middle of the grand canyon. Sure, I know the truth- that I will be fine. I have some money in the bank, not as much as my neighbors I bet, definitely not as much as my previous bosses who felt that my worth was much less than what they were apparently looking for for some, in my opinion, ridiculous reason. I wouldn't follow their ridiculous leadership. I didn't say."Hi so in so. How are you? I hope well." at the beginning of all of my redundant emails. Instead, I just got to the chew. I said what I had to say because I had already formed the relationships with the candidates and clients. I didn't need to start every email with something fru-fru, like they wanted. I grew relationships with people. They knew me, and I knew them. In fact, I still have candidates and clients call me to this day just to chat. Regardless of all that, even though I knew what I was made of, that I was doing the right thing, in their blinder suffocated eyesight, they couldn't see that. They did not think that I was worthy of their guidance, as if I wanted to be molded into an asshole. That was a blow to my ego, my being.

They didn't want me. I was rejected- no longer needed. My services were no longer required. Elvis has left the fucking building.

I have once again let the world control me, influence me, and furthermore damage me.

And the next day- there I am. Stark naked again, a newborn.

Then there are those days that I wake up, and wake up Sarah, make breakfast for everyone, except myself because I'm not one for breakfast lately, and I feel like I'm on top of the world, completely unstoppable. The sun in shining, the cat is purring on my lap, but just for a few minutes and then he's had enough. The lake is glistening, the birds are chirping, and I am ready to face the next challenge. And the unemployment saga continues...

I have no excuse for not having written anything on my adoption lately. In fact, I feel more today like I should have been all this time, and maybe, just maybe, I would have been able to deal with the horrible career circumstances I was facing last month with ease instead of crumbling like a piece of coffee cake on a porcelain white plate left for a mischievous cat on the table. Who's to say that my lack of discipline in writing would have detrimental effects on my career? Who's to say that my choices of career were never detrimental to my delicate psyche in the first place? That has some truth to it, but was meant to be a joke. I guess self-deprecating humor has always been a strong suite of mine.

I was telling a new friend the other day about my quest to find my birth mother, and it dawned on me that I had become very slack, too non-chalant, borderline healed. From what, you're thinking- I guess from being slightly overtaken by the thought of finding this woman- this anomaly who has been so elusive, so invisible, so far removed from my life. Have I ignored this for too long? It's been since August since I have put any real effort into my healing from this ordeal, from my finding my birth mother and never having had the chance to actually talk to her to find out the real truth- who she is, where I stemmed from. I know I have said in the past that I know I am from God, and my earthly parents really don't matter, but secretly they do. Truth be told, it's an internal war. One day it matters, the next I feel like I'm dying inside to find out who this woman is and what she's all about, and I guess to find out why in the world she too is not writhing with these questions, struggling to keep things suppressed so that people will not know what exactly she's been feeling, been worrying about. One would imagine, based on scientific findings, that this woman is probably a lot like me. But in reality, based on her non-action, I guess the truth is in the puddin. She is secretive-starkly opposite of me. I am completely transparent most always. I can hardly keep a secret, much less my own- always looking for some form of rationalization, justification. She doesn't ask people what they think about her private life. She bottles it all in. She knows better. She knows that people are often judgmental, relentless, unforgiving. She's right. They are. I just understand that people are also forgiving, contemplative when they have time to be, understanding, and interested, which if often confused with nosy. Silverliningish, yes. Naïve? Probably.

How did I get on this rant? Why can't I just let it go? I guess to answer my own questions, it's because my inner dialogue will not allow me to give up. I'm not a quitter, never have been, except when it comes to relationships, sadly. I've quit a few good friends, and regrettably, they have allowed it, which tells me that maybe they were ready to quit me as well. That's another story completely, actually many stories, and not for today, but maybe one day I can get to the point of realizing that things are not always my fault, and release myself from this inner dialogue that will eventually turn me into one of those people who sits in the park and talk to the birds. That was a joke. I will probably sit at my house and talk to my cat instead, because he purrs back at least.