Whatever

Remember that song? From a few years back. Don't worry, be happy. I kind of feel like that's where I am for this moment in time. I am settled back in to a kind of complacency. I am constantly inspired by the world around me, interested in so many things. I am captivated by the endless creativity and enthusiasm I find in artists and crafters at shows, shops and on the web. There was a time when I spent all weekend visiting new places, exploring restaurants, seeing shows. It's fascinating to see how others build, design, display, covet, collect. Shopkeepers transform a loose amalgamation of yet more stuff into "curated" (big word these days) collections that speak about vision, commitment, beauty and joy. Artists explore material, media, matter; add passion, emotion; yield something new and wondrous. It's easy to treat the world like a theater...pay your dues, spend your money, take it all in. Simple. Not too much effort.

5 Stages

I've been thinking about the 5 stages of grief. Identified by Dr. Elizabeth Kubler-Ross the 5 stages are commonly displayed by people facing their own, imminent death. The concept has become popularly associated with most any type of tragic or devastating occurrence. Not to make light of true tragedy, for I am acutely aware of how often we throw those kinds of words around, rendering their original intent nearly meaningless. In its own way this has been a devastating experience...being unemployed without the means to support myself, to pay my bills, to face retirement without a hope of normalcy. In the beginning I kind of wondered why - having acknowledged its seriousness - the situation was NOT freaking me out. Was it, in fact, denial - the first stage of grief? I think in some ways it was. I am still a little in denial, now hoping more than believing that I - unlike all the people I know in the same situation - I will find a job before the problem becomes serious. But the second half of stage 1 - isolation - WAS prominent. I was choosing not to see anyone or do anything when possible because it all seemed too frivolous. I felt I had to be conservative, workman-like in my day-to-day activity. Stage 1: check!

Stage 2, Anger. I don't know that I was angry. I didn't blame the company or anyone in it, I didn't rail against God and humanity. But then I realized, as time went by, I was beginning to become infuriated at the situation itself. How could I, a person who always played by the rules, who never took anything from anyone, who has done everything necessary to be a responsible self-supporting "good citizen," be in this situation? How unfair is it that the unscrupulous businessmen/bankers/brokers et al are getting handouts from the government to save them from themselves and I'm on my own. Stage 2: check!

Stage 3, Bargaining. I didn't exactly skip stage 3 but my bargaining was a little more subtle. I gave myself a month to be unemotional, proactive and hopeful. Well the month came and went with no change. I gave myself one more week because, after all, there were some hopeful signs. The week came and went. I gave myself another day and the day came and went. Stage 3: check!

Stage 4, Depression? Hmm, stage 4. Suffice it to say for the first time - there were tears. Stage 4: check!

And stage 5, Acceptance? I'm not sure. Yes I've accepted "it" for what it is. And this is really where the analogy falls apart. I can say I have accepted it but, unlike one in the throes of a real tragedy - I will go on. My acceptance is only of a revised way of life - not the end of one. That's what I need to hold onto. I need to get over myself - it's not a tragedy - it's a setback. I have started doing things again. I have days I feel positive about the changes to come. I will likely have to embrace a new way of living,. I will likely have to make some decisions that do not come easily to me. I am already a little taken aback at my lack of a decisive direction. Maybe - since this isn't about a tragedy of that magnitude - maybe the fifth stage in this process - of forced reinvention - is Action.

Quicksand

I distinctly remember when I was a kid, for a few months at least, having an irrational fear of quicksand! Why you might wonder would a 12 year old from Queens, New York with a homemaker mom and a retailer dad have any reason to even think about quicksand much less be terrified by its mere existence? Well, all these years later, I still know why: #1, it was always portrayed in the movies (from whence the whole of my quicksand knowledge was drawn) as surreptitiously lurking out there, hidden in plain sight and #2, of course, the slow and painless way it would trap the hero, unrelentingly pulling him down, down, down until his suffocating fear yielded to real life-ending suffocation. The last month has been like living in quicksand for me. I am stuck up to my waist - not sinking any further but unable to move to get myself out of it either. Each day starts much as they always did...up at 6am, putter a bit, wash, dress and have something to eat while listening to those crazy guys on the radio. But then what? Several people have suggested it's like an unexpected vacation, at first. Well, not really. I do spend 4 to 5 hours on applications but after that it feels too cavalier to do almost anything else. Like I'm on that vacation rather than unemployed. So I surf the web, watch tv, walk to the grocery. Unproductive. Unengaged. Emotional quicksand.