And the verdict is...

My job has ended.

And not because they hate me but because they've run out of work.

So it's back to the "find a job" grindstone.

And back to the panic. And the hurt. And the desperate need for faith.

See you on the flip side, hopefully with better news than this.

Butterflies

I am so scared.

I just handed in my first huge project. Not just for this employer, but in my WHOLE LIFE. And I have never been more nervous than I am right now.

Because I'm on contract. And currently that contract only goes until July 31. And then it ends. Just. Like. That.

And then I'll be unemployed, which is no good.

Not just because it is unemployment, but because I don't know if I can handle the stress of being unemployed again.

At the beginning of our marriage (and the months leading up to our marriage), my husband and I were both unemployed, which made doing things like living very, very difficult. With the help of God and our family and friends, we survived the 8 months of marriage with no money, although at the end I think I can honestly say that I knew what drowning must feel like. But I think that drowning would actually be mercifully much quicker.

Of course, our unemployment was brightened for two months by the employment from HELL, where I went home in tears every day and was scared out of my mind for two months. Because everything I did was wrong, stupid, and not good enough. It didn't matter that I just did everything I was told to do, or that the managers weren't so, um, good at their job. It mattered though that I was dumb, dumb, dumb. And in the end, who can argue with logic like that?

I could!

After being with the company I am now, which we will call the Dream Company, for 6 months, I can honestly say I'm not dumb. And my work is respected. And my opinion is respected. And my degree is respected. And my brain is respected. And most importantly I am respected. Which does wonders for a girl's ego, let me tell you.

But this project is still the biggest I've ever done and is still the most involved that I have ever accomplished. And it has also taken FOREVER.

Ay, there's the rub.

The amount of time I was given for the project had to be extended. A lot. And now that it is finally in, I hope that is worth all of those extensions. And that my boss will see it that way.

Because if he doesn't, I'm in trouble. And on July 31, when my contract could go either way, I know which way it will go.

And then I'll be dumb again. And unemployed. And that is the most terrifying thought ever.

Retirement

At work today, the nicest guy ever retired. He worked his last day for the rest of his life, or as long as he lasts in retirement before going crazy and picking up where he left off.

And as I sit there, a mere five months into my first, real, grown-up job (we won't count that awful experience from before - it never happened, got it?), I can't even imagine what that would feel like.

I have a feeling, though, that it won't feel as victorious and freeing as I imagine, sitting here bogged down with deadlines and too much work. I imagine it might feel kind of lost and maybe even a bit hard. Because how do you turn off a lifetime of something? Not easily.

But as I sit with my deadlines, crunching me as I come upon this long weekend (Happy Birthday, Canada!), I am imagining it to feel victorious and freeing, because that is what will get me through the next 40 years of deadlines and crunching.

Happy Retirement, Bill! May it be long, fantastic, and filled to the brim with good health and life. :)

Message for Britney Spears

Today is the first day in a while that I've felt peaceful.

During the end of November I went through some horrible things at work and ended up in tears and bruised (emotionally), and I quit my job. I have never in my entire life quit anything. I've taken breaks, I've taken deep breaths, but I have never quit. And I did it. I quit.

It was a horrible situation, one where I was getting yelled at for things I either didn't do or had no control over. My self-esteem and myself took a beating, and in the end I turned into this small version of myself. I didn't like what I looked like in the mirror, I didn't like what my brain was doing, and I felt impossibly incompetent and like a big fat failure. I mean, I had basically quit the only job that we had had.

I felt like a loser.

But yesterday I went on a job interview, and my credentials were lauded. The woman interviewing me even said someone drooled over them. And then the interview, which started out as a favour for a friend of mine, turned into my interview. At the end, she was giving me a tour and giving me information, and making plans to check my references.

In the end, I was back. I was competent. I was successful. I was a candidate. I was incredible.

And I realized that I had survived my month of depression, my month of not sleeping, my month of popping Tylenol everyday. And that I was worthy of a new job, worthy of being told that I was smart and savvy and brilliant.

I made it through the worst job of my life...and came out on the other side with a job offer and the promise of follow-up from another job.

That is what I'm taking into the next month, and the month after. Because I am worth more than every awful thing that that old place said. I am worth every moment of praise. Because I know I worked my butt off for 5 years in university and 10 years in total if you count the fact that I had no life in high school save studying and working and volunteering.

So now, I'm going to enjoy some nice relaxing time. Take some breathing space. And drink a cup of yummy, warm tea.

And bask in the glory of my comeback, which I feel is around the corner and much more sure than Britney's, I'm sorry to say.

Maybe I should call her and tell her that she can do it. She can make it. I wonder if anyone has said that to her yet. I wonder...

Bereft

My eyes are tired this morning...they want to close in the worst way possible, but of course, this will not happen until sometime tonight, when they are allowed.

My work is going slowly. I have one task today and it's not that big of one. Right now I'm stuck on fonts, but that isn't the problem -- I'm just lacking in motivation. I need someone to come along and pick me up and carry me through.

My sister recently lost a friend of hers in a car accident - he passed away at the tender age of 17. His death rocked the little church community we inhabit and she has been mourning fairly steadily since then.

Just this past week, she broke up with her boyfriend (she was the dumper and is upset and guilty and worried). These feelings of hurt have lead her to have vivid dreams, like she did when her friend passed away. A few nights ago she dreamed that it wasn't her friend that passed away, but her now ex-boyfriend. She was so upset, sobbing and dying inside, and then her friend, the one who in actuality passed away, came over to her, picked her up in his arms and cradled her, saying over and over again, "It's going to be okay." She said the peace and comfort she felt from that dream was unbelievable.

I remember having a similar dream about an ex-boyfriend. In our relationship, he was the dumper and I was the broken-hearted soul who couldn't take it gracefully (I was the person who was unable to make it through a day without crying). In my dream I was wandering around, bawling my eyes out (imagine!) and all of a sudden he was there. He wrapped his arms around me and hugged me. The comfort of that moment, of having contact, was unreal. It filled me with such peace and it was as if I was given the strength to heal, to move on, to find myself.

I wish that that would happen now. I'm torn inside by my husband's unemployment, by the trouble I'm experiencing at work, and I wish that someone would come up to me, wrap their arms around me and tell me, "It's going to be okay," because the peace of that moment will take me through to the other side. Will make it all better.

And until I'm on the other side, I can't tell you, void, what it is that hurts so much, because I've read here that that is a bad idea. When I officially move on, though, I will tell you that I made it, that I lived, and most importantly, that I'm smarter than the average run-down employee.

I promise. Until then, could you send someone with really strong arms?

Wanted: Peace

I'm sitting in the middle of chaos and I want out.

I'm in chaos with my job. I feel like I'm useless and stupid when I know that I'm smart and able.

I'm in chaos at church. I fight so hard and work so hard to fit and be fitted, but in the end I'm still placeless.

I'm in chaos with my life. I'm so tired and so drained from everything else, that I want to sleep, but in truth, I really want to stay awake forever to live.

And there is this unreasonably loud banging going on in my work area and my head hurts. Right now that is the chaos I'd like to escape the most.

Mistake

I wonder what you would say if someone asked, "What was the biggest mistake you have ever made?"

I wonder if you would actually admit it. I'm positive you would think about it, but would you let it come out? Would you let it be acknowledged?

I made a whopper of a mistake at work and I had to admit it. Was forced to (when it comes to food labels, one must say, that was me). And now I'm in the midst of damage control - a situation that I am not enjoying because all I feel is shame.

I was told by someone much more experienced that these things happen and they suck, but they are not THE END OF THE WORLD. And it's funny. Because I could have been fired for this mistake. And I could have been seriously reprimanded for this mistake. And I was blamed outright for this mistake by management.

But she's right. The world didn't end.

It just felt like it was ending.

Wishful thinking

I'm brand new in the working world.

Freshly graduated, I've just started my real job and so far finding it more difficult than school and co-op (basically, internships) have taught me. Which is fine. I depend on the fact that the institution that I paid oodles of money to would ineveitably lie to me, no matter how many oodles I gave them.

But as I sit at my desk - my *dream* desk, I'm told - I realize that I wish I had the money or the guts (because guts, I'm learning, can take the place of money if followed and employed right), to quit the desk, give up the lie that I've learned to embrace, and be daring. Go to Europe. Spend a year learning how to be a photographer with only landscapes and inanimate objects and unsuspecting subjects to be my guide. Find a cafe in a small, unknown place, and write until I have no words left in me. To abandon the community responsibilities and family responsibilities, and all of the "this is right, so do it" my life is filled with.

Just give it all up and find myself.

That, I think, would be a much more interesting and more real invention of myself. Because then I wouldn't be able to hide behind the comforting thought, this is where I'm supposed to be. This is who I'm supposed to be. This is what I need to do.

All I would have is me. And my guts. And my no money.

Then I'd be real.

Still sifting through photos

Looking at pancake photos, I've discovered that people who are "making breakfast" always have a phone tucked between their ear and shoulder, while whipping up a batch of pancakes. We are an uber busy bunch, aren't we?

Fast food nation

After spending a few days looking for pictures of potatoes on a stock photo site, I've discovered that we are a truly fast food nation.

There are no pictures of potatoes...just french fries.

Does no one but me need potatoes as they are, unaltered and simple?

What a sad, sad world when one can not even find a potato.

Hopelessness

Today I received an email telling me that I didn't get the position that I applied for at a local company. Although I know that God will take care of everything, and that I'll have a job, and my fiance will have a job, I can't help but feel hopeless.

In our faith, we are taught to believe that no matter what happens, God is there for us and with us, working things out, and creating bigger and better opportunities. I teach my Religious Instruction kids this, telling them stories of bible greats who fell to the mighty power of doubt and hopelessness. But in their defence, who can blame them for giving up? For not fighting harder? For not getting stronger in the face of greater and greater adversity?

Thinking about men like Moses, John the Baptist, and Apostle Peter, I am struck by the incredible things they did - and how much we think about their weaknesses, held up as examples for how we must not be.

Moses lead people through the desert for forty years, listening to them grumble and complain, trying to understand why they had to take the long way, and watching people around him die, be born, grow, and die again. Can you imagine how hopeless of a situation that would be? One can say that they had everything provided for them - they never knew want in regards to food and shelter, and God was always with them, even talking to Moses in the form of burning bushes and the like. But after forty years, how faithful and hopeful could one human being possibly be? I would smash a rock for water if I were Moses, regardless of God's providence. In his position, I would.

John the Baptist was a prophet, heralding the coming of Jesus and baptising people. In the end, he ended up in jail and beheaded, because he was doing what he was told. Sitting in jail with Jesus alive and working miracles outside, John lost his faith, saying that maybe another was supposed to come because Jesus didn't break him out of jail. And one could say, it doesn't work that way - you don't just get everything you want because you've done good. You get what you need and should have because God knows that you should. But, how faithful and hopeful could one human being be if they did everything they should and still ended up in jail? In his position I'd rethink things too. I would.

Apostle Peter was the foundation of the first church that Jesus established. Although Peter denied his involvement with Jesus, Jesus still kept faith in him, and Peter in Jesus. But in the end, one can relate to Peter's denial. How faithful can one man be in the midst of a mobbing crowd of people who want to kill Jesus and anyone related? In his position, I'd at the very least be thinking about denying Jesus. I'll admit it. I would.

But that's what growth is for and what services are for - to become stronger and more hopeful. Going to church is a renewal of hope and of strength, so that in the face of greater adversity, one can stand up and ask God for water, sit in jail and think of how great Jesus is, and in the crowd of angry, murderous people, say proudly: "I know this Man. He is the Son of God, and I love Him."

And after this Wednesday's service I'll be able to say, in my unemployed, engaged to an unemployed man, state: "I will have a job, my fiance will have a job and God is great because He is the great Provider."

After this Wednesday's service. For now, I'm going to have to hold back the tears and the feeling of dread, and work on being stronger and more hopeful.