Picking Up The Pieces

"Picking up the pieces" means you have broken and need to make yourself whole again. But I don't believe you can ever be truly whole again. While the pieces inevitably do get put back together, sometimes they don't fit the same as they used to, or some of them get lost and those holes get filled in with something else. The "whole" is never the same; it becomes different, new, more beautiful.

When I was younger, starting over was so much easier. It was like a mysterious adventure, something to look forward to and savor. Now, all that mystery is just stressful and depressing. I should be looking forward to retirement and traveling the world. I've paid my dues in spades, worked hard all my life, and deserve a little peace of mind. I have definitely earned that.

Instead, in my shattered little world, I have no clue where my next meal is coming from, how I'm going to put a roof over my head, and how I'll keep from losing everything I've worked so hard for, literally. This is not how I pictured this stage of my life. I'm not living the middle class American Dream of yesteryear. This is my nightmare.

Feeling alone and abandoned seems strange when I have family and friends to see me through the rough times. It's a conundrum. How can I be happy about the opportunity to go back to the place I love and still feel so injured and sad? I resent having to make so many decisions and changes so quickly, yet it's surprisingly liberating.

Some days, all I want is a champion to rescue me so I don't have to do all of this on my own, to make my decisions for me so I can just go along for the ride. Other days, I want to kick ass to show the universe I'll triumph despite the odds. The rest of the time, I suffer the entire spectrum of human emotion at any given moment.

You might say, "You've only been unemployed for a week; this is just a temporary setback." Perhaps, but I know what's it's like to be out of work for years. I'm all too familiar with worrying about becoming homeless. Before that major setback, I always got the job I wanted, the home I wanted, etc. A future filled with so much uncertainty is not something I look forward to reliving.

Grief is a natural response to loss, which includes the loss of a job, so I should consider all of this normal. However, my grief isn't just about losing a job. It's about the overwhelming stress involved with having to look for a new job and a new place to live, and figuring out how I'm going to get from point A to point B all at the same time and with no guarantees.

When I come out on the other side of this experience, I know I will be stronger for it... unless it kills me, of course. In the meantime, I have no other choice but to remain optimistic, to breathe, and to indulge in a fair amount of self-care.

In the end, I'll wear my beautiful scars with confidence, despite the recent misadventures.


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