Musings from the Laundromat: Laid Off edition

It’s been quite a week.

For a while (a couple of months) I had felt something almost tangible in the air at work.  

Things were just ‘off’.

I’m very in tune to energy around me.  I pick up on facial expressions –  body language, other people’s emotions – sometimes I don’t know what I’m picking up on, I just feel waves of something that isn’t stemming from me.

I’ve been told I have empath traits – and from what I’ve read about empaths, I would agree.

My closest friends and family told me I was probably imagining things.  But I can usually trust my gut.

My gut then clenches around the disturbance like an iron fist and all negative perceptions are transferred to me.

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A couple of more obvious clues might have been when my immediate boss stopped sharing news with me (like the fact that he got married) or when he gave me a bar of chocolate for Christmas.

Okay, it was a really large bar of chocolate – but a bonus it was not.

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I carried on, kept doing my job.  Waiting for the shoe to drop.

Last week my less immediate, but more powerful boss came into town.

I didn’t know she was here when I emailed her asking if I could please go home for the rest of the day.  I had been sick for over two weeks – and had almost fainted a couple of times going back and forth to the printer.

“Feel better” was her response.

The next day, I received another email.

It was one of those ‘we need to talk’ emails.

Shudder.

Is there any worse feeling?  Even in my 40’s I felt like I was going to the principal’s office.

I knew it wasn’t going to be a reprimand – I do my job well.

Crippling anxiety ensued, in my head.  On the outside, I kept working and smiling.

Meeting time came, and I sat opposite my boss, and her husband, who is president of the real estate office we work with.

In a nut shell, I was laid off.  They were closing the processing center.

Unfortunately for me I was the ‘processing center’.

I sat and nodded and agreed it made business sense – all while playing out the scenario of being unemployed in my head.

I know I’m capable of landing on my feet – I’ve done it before, but did I really want to start all over and worry about providing food and shelter for my little family?  Um, no.  Of course not.

I had my son moved in with my parents, my dog in a new home and me sleeping in my car all before the next shoe landed on the desk.

I was offered a job.

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The thing about bonding with people around you and caring, is they notice.  And people notice when you show up and work hard.

Who would have thought?

The agents and staff in the realty office that our loan company was housed in did not want to see me go.

A position was created for me.

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I had never felt such relief, appreciation and humility as I did in that moment.

These people who I consider family – that I care about … cared back.

I think it’s pretty obvious from my past posts that I am a grateful person … but let me tell you – when I got home that day, the shoebox we live in never looked more beautiful.

My nightly ‘thank you’ to my higher power was said with tears in my eyes.

The next day the alarm clock never sounded more melodic and the gift of being able to pay my bills was never more appreciated.

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Tomorrow I begin a new adventure with a new company, approximately 12 steps from my old office.

But I begin it with familiar faces – people I already love.

And I am so grateful.

Musings from the Laundromat: ‘Green Blue and Red things’ Edition

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Came SO close to not coming today.

I’ve been ill since Christmas, yesterday I felt a lot better after becoming one with the couch all day, only throwing clothes on for my weekend job.

This morning I woke at 5:30 am and ended up falling asleep again like some modern-day old lady.  Instead of reading glasses slipping down my nose and a book in my hand, I nodded off with my ipad on my chest.

I dreamed then of my keys and trying to figure out how to take my dog through a mall and outside so that she could relieve herself.

Hey, if you’re going to dream, dream big right?

My subconscious was obviously telling me ‘get your arse up – you have somewhere to be and a 4 legged manatee that can’t let herself out. ‘

I realized at my second waking – that I felt rotten.

I mentally counted how many pairs of clean underwear I had remaining and decided it didn’t matter.  I can’t relax knowing I have skipped a chore anyway.

So here I am.

Ooo!  But not after this sign I ignored – I got into the car and the first lyrics I heard were those of a Maroon Five song.

“Please don’t go …”

Of course then I sat in the car wondering if Adam Levine knew something I didn’t.

Still – duty won out.

The drive was uneventful – then at the counter I was faced with a conundrum.

The laundromat leaves their key cards on the counter for you to select one.  I usually pick yellow.  Today there were only two, blue and green.

One of my favorite people on the planet favors the color blue, another, green.

What should have been a simple task of just grabbing a card became an internal conflict.  Felt like I was picking one person over the other rather than a piece of plastic.

Yes, this is how my mind works (or malfunctions?) all the time.

I picked this one.

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I hope the person who loves green doesn’t see.

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Found this in my sons pants pocket …

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It’s a good thing I check pockets.

Last week I found his debit card – which made me wonder if perhaps the time to stop doing your child’s laundry for them is when they OWN a flipping debit card.

I have no idea what the ‘thing’ is.  But judging from the three tiny batteries inside, it’s probably good I rescued it from a certain watery death.

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I’ll ask him when I get home.  I won’t be able to sleep tonight not knowing now.

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Clothes are now in the dryers.

It’s become ever more apparent that I’m under the weather – as my OCD is accompanying me on every small mission.

I picked dryer number 43 and dryer number 45 for the honor of participating in my task at hand.

Because I’m 44.

These next 30 minutes had better go fast, because I’ll either fall asleep at this table, with my head on my ipad – or start arranging the laundry carts according to color.

I think definitely I need more rest.  After I clean the house – and discover what the ‘thing is.

Unless I hear a song with the lyrics: “Don’t clean” or “Don’t worry .. about a thing”

Wait – isn’t that Bob Marley??

He liked green too.

Caramels

I sometimes sit and watch people and cock my head in wonder.
Other people confuse me.
I don’t understand you.
Not because I don’t care or because I’m incapable.

But because I am unlike you
and like you …
but mostly, I feel so very unlike you.

But I am empathetic.
Sympathetic.
I feel you.

If I saw a discarded sweet box in your garbage can, I would buy you caramels.

I just never quite fit in.
Or understand the rules.

I seem always to be the girl who says too much,
feels too much,
thinks too much.

I laugh too loud, emote too publicly.
I cannot hide my exuberance or my sadness.

I have a giant world in my head and heart!
Colorful, fantastic, dark and macabre
Consistent extremes
Always there – always.

I have conversations with you in my head.
“Do you want to just watch movies and eat cake?”
“Yeah! Sure!”
“Can you bring cake?”

I share some of my world with a few
On my terms
And occasionally I’m pulled from my comfort zone because i want to please you.

My special friends are always there
They don’t expect me to be like them
They embrace the parts of my world I show them

Real people tucked inside my head
Characters in my internal play
Scenarios imagined – scripts written
And we eat my caramels
and share your cake

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Serving Life

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I don’t know if I’m so forgiving because I want to be forgiven.

I don’t know if I’m constantly seeing the good in those deemed ‘bad’ because I’m insightful or because I want to be good.

But I am forgiving and I do see good in bad.

This extends from situations to people.

I watched ‘Serving Life’ on New Years Day and it touched me so deeply – on so many levels.

First I thought about the convicted men.

It breaks my heart when I hear compassionate, intelligent, repentant, very human convicts wishing they could go back and undo their crimes.

That’s someone’s child – who cannot go back and will forever pay for their mistake.

I think about all the people who comment on news stories with such piousness.  I know that I have sinned – odds are they have too and how dare they judge another?

How many of those judging a murderer have been party to an abortion?  How many didn’t get caught the night they drove home drunk?

I think about a person born into an environment of despair, crime and fear – into a broken family devoid of encouragement, hope or love … what chance did they have?

I’m reminded of some lines from Silence of the Lambs.

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Hannibal:  No! He covets. That is his nature. And how do we begin to covet, Clarice? Do we seek out things to covet? Make an effort to answer now.

Clarice: No. We just…

Hannibal: No. We begin by coveting what we see every day …

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We want what we see.  We mirror who we know. 

We can only do better when we know better.  At that point, it’s a choice.

If all you are exposed to is hunger, anger and helplessness – how do you know there is a ‘better’?

Are those seeking an escape from their reality with what they know, crack, heroin … less than those sipping too many martinis after a long day at the office – or abusing their Xanax prescription?

Does the tool for escape define the person?

There are so many crimes committed by people who are under the influence of drugs.

Drug addiction changes a person – takes hold and inserts its barbs into the flesh of the addicted.  But these are people who can be helped!

Why are we taking up so much prison space with people who were convicted for drug possession instead of treating them?

Then there are the mentally ill, who are certainly not served as they need to be in our country.

Why are we surprised when an untreated mentally ill person colors outside of society’s acceptable lines?

I think the outrage should be directed more toward the system that is neglecting those who need it.

I’ll now qualify all of the above with – there should be punishment for crime.  And murder, theft, assault is not acceptable.

I just know there’s a person under that orange jumpsuit – and reasons behind the crime.

I’m not offering excuses for them – I’m offering the idea that there is more than meets the eye.

Having said all of that – I’ll be honest when I tell you that I found it very difficult to find compassion for one man who had a terminal brain tumor.

His crime was that of sexually assaulting a minor.

He would fall into the mentally ill category I suppose – as in my opinion, a mentally healthy person wouldn’t have committed such a heinous crime.

I still wasn’t able to find my compassion for him even after acknowledging this.

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The inmates that decided to take part in the hospice program were surprisingly affected by the environment.

I say surprisingly because some had been exposed to death before, in violent and personal ways.

Men who had taken a life, sat scared and uncomfortable as they sat vigil with a man breathing his last breath.

The film makers did not spare the audience the final moments of the dying.  This was a raw and very real look into a hospice situation.

One man in particular became ill suddenly – unable to keep weight on his bones and coughing up blood.  The x-rays the prison had taken showed signs of cancer – but until a biopsy was done, they couldn’t diagnose the man.  He came several times to the ward only to return to his cell without having the tests done.

The fear in his eyes was my undoing.

The nurse asked him if he wanted to be admitted to the ward – no … he didn’t want to give up.

She explained that it wouldn’t be giving up.  That no matter where he was, if he had hope, he was not giving up.  But that he would be needing care should medical intervention be needed and that they could give that to him there.

Two things struck me at this point.  That this man, who was in prison, wanted to live – and even within the walls of that penitentiary, he still had hope.

To me though, that hospice must have smelled to him like the euthanasia room at a dog pound.

It was where people went to die – not to get well.

Here he was showing up to find out what was wrong with him, and the tests being delayed – and returning to his cell in fear and sickness.  I wanted to cradle him.  I wanted to shout for a doctor on his behalf.

He was sentenced to life after all – not death.

He finally did get his results – and they were worse than anyone expected.  He was given only weeks to live.

In his final weeks, he was afforded a visit from his brother, who was also imprisoned.  I was moved to tears as he implored his brother to change … to do better.

They prayed together and again, I wanted to hold that man.

The filmmakers followed him from couch to crematorium.

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The men that stayed by his side – who washed him and changed him – were getting perhaps a first lesson in humility, selflessness and compassion.

I say perhaps, because I don’t know that to be true.

But if it wasn’t their first lesson – it was definitely a powerful  experience that would leave a profound impression.

Even the warden admitted during his interview that he couldn’t do it.  That he had admiration for the men who could.

Those men got past their fears and became angels.

There was change.

There was deep regret for the lives they had taken.

There was respect for the process of dying.

Had these men been part of such a program prior to their crimes – would they have committed them?

I wondered with heavy heart about that too.

How does someone value life when they themselves are born into a world that does not value them?

When you’re raised to feel as if you are a statistic, a stereotype, a burden – where do you find worth within that gives you the strength to want to accomplish good things for yourself, let alone others?

There are those that do find it.  People who beat the odds.

I find that to be amazing and inspiring.

I have always been incredibly in awe of those who overcome adversity because they made a choice to do so.

I also think that by choosing to be part of the hospice program and being of service to the dying – the men documented in this film have done the same thing.

Some will have a chance to live that change in the outside world – some will not.

But I don’t think it came too late – it’s wonderful that it came at all – they learned the value of life through comforting the dying.

First Tangent of the Year

Two things resonated with me on Facebook today – one friend got engaged last night (I couldn’t be happier for her!) and another friend wrote something really thought-provoking on ‘Fear’.

Fear + Love = Tangent.

I thought about some of the recent obstacles I’ve overcome.

Being a single parent has not been easy.

And when I say ‘single’ parent I do mean – single.  Solo.  Alone. One.

I have no plan B.  No safety net.  It all comes down to me.

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My fears are usually those of the ‘not being able to provide the basic necessities for my little family’ variety.  My little family now being an 18-year-old son and a dog that adopted us.

It’s nothing short of terrifying.  (And exhilarating when I succeed – if I’m being honest.)

But, I could never be in a relationship born of fear.  Only love.

I don’t understand people who bounce from relationship to relationship because they can’t be alone.

I don’t understand ‘gold diggers’ or those women that have a ‘sugar daddy’ that pays their bills.

I’m not judging them either.  I’m sure there is a reason they don’t feel empowered or lack the drive to go it alone.

Just as there are reasons why I am so stubborn and independent.

It doesn’t make my way right – it’s just my way.

I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I settled for anything less than true love.

And perhaps that’s why I DO live with myself.

Not willing to settle.  Not willing to be in a relationship for the wrong reasons.

But new fears – or, perhaps that’s not the right word … new ‘unknowns’ are to be embarked upon.

My son (God willing) won’t need me in a couple of years.  When he’s learned to juggle achieving a higher education and providing for himself.

He’ll be cutting his own path and I’ll have to look in the mirror and answer to the little girl who used to be me.

She had wanted to be an archeologist, a teacher and a writer.  She had wanted to marry her Prince Charming and live happily ever after.

I never did get that Cinderella to the ball.

But, I can look her in the eye and say ‘but you had a beautiful baby boy – and you turned out to be a good mom.’

She wanted that too.

I feel change coming.

And there is fear.

An electric buzz in the air, foreshadowing that 2014 is going to be a very important year.

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