For Lent, I’m giving up employment. Actually, I think for good I’m giving up regular employment. Too much is pointing me in another direction, not the least of which is the fact I was “let go” on Tuesday. I say I was fired, but Ron says “let go” sounds much better. He was actually “laid off” on Tuesday. But he doesn’t even need air quotes, because he work in the homebuilding industry and his was a true layoff. Mine was more of a “Hi, you missed a lot of work lately and we don’t want to work with you anymore. Here’s a box. Get your shit and get out.”
And I know it’s easy to act blameless and shocked when you get fired. It’s easier to make excuses for why they hated you and were out to get you, than to admit that you might have actually fucked up. I guess I actually fucked up. Hats off to working, single moms who do it successfully. Avery’s asthma has been so bad since the start of the new year that I was out of the office several hours a week. I worked from home to make sure that I stayed on top of my assignments and ensured that no one else was picking up my slack. But they still felt they wanted someone who could be more reliable. I can’t be reliable I guess. I can’t tell my 4 year old to suck it up and figure out her breathing problems on her own. I can’t tell her to walk herself to the ER, or have her hitch a ride to doctor’s appointments. I can’t even get her father to do it, because he lives 3 hours away. It’s on me and there it will remain.
So. I’m not supposed to work a “typical” job. I get that. Instead, Ron and I are embarking on starting our own freelance company. We’ll specialize in writing, business writing, technical writing, writing web content, limericks, grocery lists…. anything that will pay us to write, we will do. It’s terrfying. He’s been an executive at a Fortune 200 company, so he knows all the business shit. We’ve got business plans and marketing strategies and cash flow projections and pretty pretty colorful graphs. I mostly just make funny jokes and correct his spelling. But there’s a partnership in there somewhere and once there is writing to be done, I’ll be sure to do it.
Meanwhile I’m deciding how exactly I’m supposed to go about planning a wedding when we don’t even know what the next couple of months hold. We’ve got the church for June 7, and people are buying plane tickets. Hell, I’ve got 20 pounds worth of dupioni silk and fluted tulle in the form of a wedding dress hanging in my mom’s closet. So somehow, I’m prancing around in that thing on June 7. There may not be much else, but by golly, I’ll have my pretty dress.
And of course the stress. The lovely lovely lovely stress. I don’t know how to deal with it, so I internalize it. Which shortens my patience, especially with the girls. I need to verbalize my stress more. I need to let people support me. I just don’t want to answer the 4,927 questions that follow when I reach out. Or the assumptions that I’m over-reacting and being dramatic. Or the statement that I’m clearly stressing about the wrong thing and need to stress about something else instead. Or the silence. The fucking accusatory silence. I can seriously not handle that.
Anyway, I’m totally not whining or being dramatic. Please don’t think I am. Clearly things could always be much worse. In fact, part of what made Tuesday excruciating was the death of my friend’s mom. I was floored by it and sobbing the whole way to work as soon as I found out. I was making arrangments to take over her work load and contribute to the flower arrangement, when HR busted in and fired me. I thought of her a lot today as I was at my nephew’s birthday party. My friend’s daughter had her birthday party today as well… the first one without her grandmother. So yeah, things could be worse. But still, they’re kind of scary for me. Prayers, good vibes, and/or voodoo chants are welcome.