"It's just a jump to the left . . ."

Changing your course is never easy . . . Just ask the Captains of Disneyland's Jungle Cruise.
Some people see their lives as a preordained non-changeable destiny with few options. Some people see their lives as constantly in flux. And some just see themselves in a rut . . . a deep one . . . with no ladder . . . and filling fast with mud.

What are the influences to make change? Outside events? Catastrophic events? Family? Friends? Inner turmoil? Too much caffeine? Religious or Spiritual pressures? Desires? Change for Changes sake? The lack of clean underwear? How do we react to these influences? Do they cause us to embrace change or to cower in fear from it? Do we learn life lessons from change or are they they obstacles we have to overcome? Does change mean the end or does it signal a beginning?

Why do some people seek to constantly change? Changing their hair, their dress, their home or work environment, their mode of transformation, and especially their minds. Does this signify some constant need to evolve or improve, or is it just dissatisfaction with their current state? Does change bring happiness, or does it just mask the root problem? Or, is change something to be feared as it's always a precursor to upheaval and despair. For a glass-half-full mentality, can change be both good and bad at the same time? I've circled around change so often that I know there are grooves in the floor. I try to look at all the angles, to try and judge the good and the bad, to ultimately decide whether this is something I can embrace or just brace myself against.

I know I'm not happy right now. I know what I knew to be familiar doesn't exist along the same lines. I know that familiar pathways and supports have been washed away worse than a Colorado flash flood. I know that there must be changes in order to survive. I struggle with what this actually means for me, what will my life be like in the aftermath, will I be making the right changes and not change for change's sake. That I won't be making choices in desperation. Tomorrow begins a new journey of discover for me, a journey to discover who I am now, what do I want from life, what I want to make life into, and what will I be willing to do get there. Tomorrow I begin a 3 day seminar to answer my questions and give me the tools I need to make the hard decisions. I already have these tools and these capabilities, I just forgot they were there and how to use them for me. I begin the Landmark Forum tomorrow at 9am. I'm excited and scared, and extremely curious. I don't know how tired I will be or what mental state I will be in when each session ends over the next 3 days, but I will try to post a few head-shots (like a screen shot, but just more obtuse) when I get home & chill out.

This catharsis may become similar to a chrysalis by weekend's end. Let's see if I emerge ready to fly as a 'Heimlich'-like beautiful butterfly, or more like a wasp with a nasty stinger.
Stay tuned.

Lost Boy

Loss (noun):

The state of being deprived of or of being without something that one has had: the loss of old friends.

Detriment, disadvantage, or deprivation from failure to keep, have, or get: to bear the loss of a loved one.

 How long is bereavement or grief supposed to last? Is there an acceptable or required amount of time to mourn your loss? Do the rules of etiquette provide a gradatory timeline or a socially acceptable duration to be emotional or emotionally bereft? What if you 'exceed' it? What if you're not sure if you ever went through it? How much time will it take to heal the wounds that time is supposed to heal? What do you say when someone tells you to "Get over it"?

And we're not even talking solely about death.

There are so many kinds of loss. Lost chances. Lost loves. Lost opportunities. Lost friendships. Lost years. Lost dreams. Lost youth. Lost affluence. Lost circumstances. Even lost keys! . . . I digress. The list goes on and on. Each type of loss seems to have an acceptable reaction, but not a standard period in which to act. Losing your grandparents seems to be a shorter period of mourning than losing one's parents unless that is mitigated by having loved or hated one or more than the others. Losing your job seems to garner more pity than sympathy than say losing your cat. Losing a love definitely creates more deprivation than losing a friend.

 What does that say about us as a species when losing your car to theft garners more sympathy than the loss of a spouse?

In the past year I lost a job, a boatload of acquaintances, several friends, a few loved ones, a ring that was given to me by a dear friend, a lifetime's worth of collectibles and keepsakes, and my sense of self. I've received more than my share of pity, heartfelt sympathy, and a frighteningly large dose of "Aren't you over that yet?"

The loved ones who were in my life and now are not. What gifts they brought to me will never be forgotten & will always be treasured. They have made me a better person for being a part of me and I hope I gave them the same feeling in return. Those feeling will never go away.

The loss of friendships hurt and hurt deep, but both sides had their reasons. Both sides thinking they were right and the other was wrong. Both sides said their peace & both sides said things that never should have been said aloud. Both sides drew blood & were wounded in turn. On my part . . . I'm very sorry for the things said in anger.

The ring . . . oh, that's hard, but in the end it is only an object no matter how valuable. It's the sentiment behind it, the joy of the moment, and the love behind it that can never be replaced. I'll miss the sparkle, the weight of it on my finger, but if I close my eyes . . . it's still there.

The collection and the collectibles . . . that hurt. Some of those were a part of my life since I was an infant, they were symbols of success and of happiness. They were symbolic only in a way that they captured memories and moments, small victories and major milestones. Some were bought, created, or commissioned purely as an investment. Some were only worth the memories associated with them and then they were more valuable than gold. "One man's treasure is another man's trash."

The acquaintances that disappeared in the wind. You weren't even fair weather friends, you disappeared when the cash did. I know where you went and I'm glad you took your dramas and baggage with you. Despite the costs, I learned my lessons.

The job, well, that's been a struggle but I refuse to give up. I will find something that will not be a job, but a career. Something I will enjoy & be excited to wake up each morning knowing I will be doing something fulfilling.

My sense of self . . . Now that's the hardest one to replace, it's definitely a work in progress. This is something I have to work on rebuilding every day. The anchors that I've counted upon are no longer there or their foundations will no longer support me. I'm learning to build a new foundation, incorporate the anchors that have stayed with me throughout the storms, and to look within for the new anchors that will see me through to a brighter more confident future. I'm also learning that I'm not as alone as I made myself believe, I have the support of individuals that truly care.

So while I may not want to ever grow up . . . I'm not a Lost Boy any longer.

 

Your Presence Is No Longer Required

"You're Fired." . . . Is there anything in our education that ever prepares us for those two words? Surely not anything in our basic educational template can ever prepare you to face the tidal wave of emotions & physical reactions that those two words bring on. Well, perhaps High School. Then only if you had a particularly sadistic gym teacher, or perhaps if you went through High School berated and belittled like 'Carrie'. But then she had some satisfaction after the prom.

I suppose if you've set your goal on an MBA or similar type of degree you had to take some sort of a class discussing the various hard-knocks of the business world, the realities of "Not Everyone Is Going To Like You", "Office Politics", or "You Won't Always Be The Boy Wonder". Of course if you weren't business driven, the mythical 'School of Hard Knocks' would teach you something about this along your career path. Maybe it wouldn't happen to you, but you'd be nearby. Sort of like the person next to the person that stepped onto the landmine. It scares you and makes you wary.

Being unemployed changes your life in many ways, not all of them visibly physical, and certainly in many ways emotionally. The obvious is that suddenly your cash flow is strictly negative, unless you can qualify for unemployment benefits (and that's a blog post for another day), or you have sufficient savings to carry you through for a while. The 'experts' say that you should have cash reserves or a savings equivalent to 3-6 months of your typical expenditures. These same 'experts' also spout off on ways to be frugal and cut down to survive joblessness. 'Survive' . . . now that's an interesting word. The dictionary gives several meanings of the word survive, these are two of my favorites: (3) "to get along or remain healthy, happy, and unaffected in spite of some occurrence" and (5) "to endure or live through (an affliction, adversity, misery, etc.)". They seem to cover both ends of the scale don't they, the highs and the lows.

What these so called 'experts' fail to mention is the emotional toll this type of 'life-event' takes on a person, their family, their friends, even their 'community'. Now when I say 'community' I don't mean that the city of Beverly Hills is going to take a personal interest in you, (Well, maybe, I suppose if your topiary aren't trimmed & your lawn jockeys are beginning to flake you will get a letter from the city code division, but I digress.), but your circle of acquaintances will definitely begin to talk and whisper. "Did you hear about poor Clyde? . . . Yes, booted right out. . . . They gave him a box for his 'personal' things . . . Wearing last season's Manolos . . . Had to cancel all his memberships, poor thing." Pity . . . Pity is the acid that eats away at your self-confidence, you've already lost your 'anchors' and sense of who you are, pity eats away from you on the inside, pity can destroy your foundation before you even know it's gone. People who say that they are not their jobs are lying to you and to themselves. In this day and age what we do defines us. Oh there's lots of spin and philosophical discussion otherwise but in a microsecond synopsis of who we are, our jobs are right there in the mix. "He's 5'-2", blond, a dentist" . . . "She has a lovely personality & she's a librarian" . . . "He's nothing much to look at but he works for Prada". Lose that part of your identity and everyone is at a loss to define you, you're the one who has changed and made it harder for them to identify with you. Oh, it's all fun & games at first, but when you start curtailing your activities or use the word 'budget', the game changes. People are willing to perceive you as an equal but when your 'deficiencies' are out in the open, you're not an equal anymore and they're afraid to acknowledge it, and suddenly you begin to be phased out so they won't be uncomfortable. Again, the guy next to the guy who stepped on a landmine.

Survive: (verb, used without object)

"to remain alive after the death of someone, the cessation of something, or the occurrence of some event; continue to live: Few survived after the holocaust."

 

How do you reconnect this disconnect?

"I loved you before I even knew who you were, but I was ready for you to come into my life." . . . Kinda hokey, bordering on the cliche, but exactly what my heart was telling me & exactly what I wanted to say as a beginning to my wedding vows.
Wedding Vows.
Had I really gotten to that point? I'd already been married, it was such a farce. Two people standing before god & everyone, pledging eternal love & fidelity . . . I don't think she even knew how to spell those words much less the meaning of them. She was all about the show & the extravaganza . . . I was there for the food.
I felt like I was checking something off of my To-Do-List rather than taking a step along the new path of my life. I had moved down from San Francisco for this, I was setting up a new home with this woman and her children, I was becoming a husband. And all I really wanted to do is sit in a corner with my buds, open up the champagne & fire up a cigar.
It couldn't have ended soon enough.

 However, with 'Him' I was ready. We had a plan, a 5 year plan. Time for him to finish school and get his degree. Time for internships and jobs, time for studying and plan for our future. We talked about kids & the possibility of creating a family together. We talked about the age differences, what we had to overcome or think about. We met each others friends and family, people pulling me aside not to tell me how young he was but to tell me how wonderful he was and how happy he made me.
I began to plan 'Our' lives together, make plans for my life with him as the center, my anchor point.
Then things changed, my job fell apart, my health went wonky, my self esteem took numerous blows. But he was right there alongside me, giving me strength and support, and most of all, unconditional love. I felt I could get through anything because of that. With him beside me I could survive, get stronger, find a new purpose, begin a new life. All because of that unconditional love.

I began to make career plans based on 'Us', I discussed things with him, asked for his opinions, how he felt about options that had presented themselves. It all boiled down to us being able to make it work because we would be there to support each other, that we would only be a phone call or text away, a short drive or flight. We were about to build a future. Then the voids began. Silences and unanswered questions, not seeing each other because of 'sudden' changes of plans. "We'll see each other next week" became the new standard refrain, "Oh, I forgot" soon became the other. We were no longer in 'Synch' as we had been since the beginning, our 2nd anniversary was on the horizon but we were disconnecting exponentially.

You had told me "I love you!" that morning, but hours later you said you needed to talk to me. "I don't want to be boyfriends anymore" was what you said. "We don't like the same things" was your answer to the question of "Why?", and you couldn't leave fast enough. But you paused at the door and asked "Will you still wave goodbye to me?" . . . That was our thing, the one that stayed stood and watched the other drive away, waving the whole time until we couldn't see each other any more.
So I did . . . I stood in the doorway & watched you get into your car, look at me through the car windows and drove away as I stood waving until you disappeared from view. I closed the door amidst the shattered pieces of my heart and took a deep breath. You were gone.