I lost my job last week; it was unexpected and incredibly abrupt. Matt asked what we should tell people if asked, and I said, "I did nothing wrong! I'm not ashamed," so there it is. It wouldn't be prudent to get into the specifics, but I will say I've felt they were looking to push me (and perhaps, others) out for a while under new management and restructuring and they cited a bogus reason for termination. It was done with spite and honest-to-god malice and I was out of the building within five minutes. I was the girl bamboozled, walking down the sidewalk with picture frames and a fake plant in my bag, and other nicknacks I hastily grabbed from my cube. I called my friend - who had left like a bat outta hell a few months before - and now works at her new gig (that she loves, adores, feels valued at) a block away. "I'm meeting you downstairs in one minute!" she said, and we talked for thirty minutes on Market Street about how absolutely shitty that place is, the situation is, how, "Can you believe this?!" the thing is/was. She reminded me how toxic that place was, how I was deeply unhappy, how this is the push I need. Sure, sure. But I was just fired!, I said. That sting (no matter how ridiculous or obtuse the reason). That venom.
The thing with getting fired? It's not as much the tactical concerns (although they are incredibly stressful - finding another job, financial worries, and so on). The thing that kills me is this: it's the stripping away of any sense of self-worth. I hate that they took that from me. Work - even though I never loved it - made me feel more whole. I feel devalued, dejected...all of that.
But...it's been a whole week now, and I've experienced more positive feedback and reinforcement from family and friends in this week than I have for the last two years at my former employer. And for that I am so very, very thankful. It's things like that that make me tear up now (I haven't cried about the job itself in days). Like this email from Matt, which I re-read often:
Wanted to make sure you know how valued you are. If [former employer and former manager] can't see it, it is entirely because of their own shortcomings. You are lovable smart, kind, charismatic, friendly, funny, loyal, and gorgeous. You are a great wife and mother. Annie and I will be happy to have you more to ourselves, and not wasting your presence on people who can't appreciate you. We're going to be perfectly ok. I can run some numbers if that will ease your mind a little. I'm so sorry you had to go through this rejection, and my thoughts are with you as you figure out how to reconcile yourself with it.(So he's not like that all the time, but I totally had to post that.)
Or when my friend (the lovely Danita) sent this, like, Visio-esque crazy chart mapping out available steps entitled "Mojo Rising: Operation You've Got Options, aka The Mojo Reclamation Project" (the girl has a way with words and a thing with titles, what can I say?...love you Danita!). Or how friends are reaching out almost daily asking how I'm doing, saying let's go out for lunch, and sending me job postings. Thank you, thank you.
One of the things I've cried over many times was taking Annie out of daycare. Obviously, there is no reason for her to be in full-time care - and we can't afford keeping her there on a full or part-time basis - but she loves her friends there. She wobbles with such joy to her seat at the table every morning, with breakfast in hand. She and her friends giggle and screech and when we pick her up it's like, "Yeah, I see you, but as you can also see, I'm finishing something up here." I love that she had that. This week Matt and I visited a few in-home daycares in our area that allow two days a week (for my sanity, job searching, what have you) and that we can manage financially. I also want her to continue to have that experience: to learn and cope with others, grow independently, discover things on her own away from us. We're so proud of that girl, and I know she'll be fine, but it makes me hate this situation so much more. Here are some photos of today at her last pick-up:
|Two of her teachers, Mr. Eddie and Miss Holly. Miss Holly knew her since she was a wee newborn at 11 weeks old.|