For 28 years, I was fearless. Working in the airline industry automatically means instability; like walking through a mine field with clown shoes on. But still, the constant layoffs always seemed reasonable. You'd see the list of names affected and think, "he really sucked at his job", or "with that attitude it's a wonder she lasted as long as she did".
And for 28 years, I made it through that minefield just fine. Until the time I didn't. Until the time the layoffs seemed to have no rhyme or reason other than age and salary.
This felt like a death. A death of a partner whom I've been with for 28 plus years. The same stages of grief; disbelief, bargaining with God, anger, incredible sadness, and finally being resigned to the fact that that stage of my life is over, done, kaput.
Many days I still sleep walk through the hours, just waiting for dark so I can crawl back into bed, to hopefully sleep without dreams. More and more now though, I feel a spark of hope, and apply for a job or two. Or do a load of laundry. Both tasks seem insurmountable some days, doable on others.
When strangers ask me what I do, I stumble on the answer. Who am I, if not my job? "Temporarily unemployed" is my usual answer, at which point I feel them shrink away from me like it's contagious. In reality, they don't care one way or another; I could have said "I'm a paid operative for the CIA" and the response would have been the same.
So for now, I'll celebrate getting the laundry done. Last week I celebrated getting out of bed before 10. Who knows - next week might be even better.
