“Something’s
happening here, what it is ain’t exactly clear…”
With all due respect to Steven Stills, I know exactly
what’s happening here. I am unemployed! Arghhh. I took the leap into the abyss.
I am free fallin’. Swinging without a
net. What other clichés are there? Oh yeah - I am up shit creek without a
paddle.
Who
in their right mind, at 60, would quit their job? Just because someone was
abusive and bossy? Thus
begins the committee in my head that speaks to me in my father’s voice. Work isn’t supposed to be fun. Who told you
you were supposed to be happy? Life is shit and then you die.
But
Daddy-o, I try to tell him, I
am not in my right mind, never have been, never will be. Oh, yeah, I faked it
for a good 40- 50 years but it exhausted me. Exhausted. When is it okay to be
myself? When is it okay to say No to crapola? When is it time to say
I
am worth MORE!
Taking my 22 year old sophisticatedly cynical son to
work this morning I heard my dead father speaking. “Why aren’t you looking for
a job?” Aside from the fact that he doesn’t know shit about what I do with my
time, I have been looking. Not applying, but looking. No, not true, I did have
an interview to be a vet assistant for $9.15 an hour. Uhhh, no. Surely, I am
with more than $9.15? $10? $20? What exactly am I worth?
I told him I was waiting for the next right thing.
I know on the “open market” I have very few sought-after
skills. I don’t type well. I don’t know how to do any math past Algebra. (Hey,
before you judge remember the last time I took a math class was 1967!) I am not
“eager, money-driven, competitive with an edge.” This is what they are looking
for. I’m telling you it’s like The Hunger
Games out here. Who would you kill
for a chance to make mega-commissions selling insurance, gadgets, clothing ,
cars, yourself?
There is an ad on Craigslist for a “Telephone
Entertainer.” Hmmmm, I wonder what that entails? I’ve been told I’m very
entertaining on the phone. That was my secret to car deal success, make ‘em
laugh. Somehow I’m not sure they would be willing to pay me the big bucks just
for making folks laugh. Maybe I’m wrong, but I think it’s a little more … creative than that. Know what I mean,
wink, wink, nudge, nudge.
Still, it is a “stay-at-home” job and I could tell
people I’m in show biz.. Maybe I should consider it.
Back to cynical Joe in the car. I told him I was waiting
for my Higher Power to show me what’s next. Talk about making someone laugh! He
told me religion and spirituality are STUPID! I nodded and didn’t argue. How
you going to argue that? Religion is stupid and evil and well, not a good thing
for people or the planet. But I know I have a Higher Power, otherwise I’d be
dead by now. Or married to that dentist in Ft. Wayne. Someone’s been steering
the ship. Well, sometimes. I do tend to take over the pilot seat a little too
much. I like to be involved. That’s what I tell myself. But the truth is I am
very uncomfortable being still. And it’s not just my ADD, it’s my POSS (piece
of shit syndrome.)
When I’m still it’s not the loving embrace of serenity
that caresses me, it’s the certainty that doom is imminent and it will all be
my fault. I’m not sure what I did wrong (being born with a vagina?) but I know
it’s something to do with my epic, intrinsic, undeniable crappiness. I’m just
not worth any better. Bottom line. I’m not worth it.
I went to a meeting last week. The topic was solutions
but it devolved into a discussion of fear. How to deal with fear. Seems like
everyone has a heap and some to spare. We’re scare of other people, poverty,
death, bad movies and most of all, the still small voice that tells us we are
getting only what we’re worth. And that ain’t much, baby!
. What struck me about all the fear
talk is that we were all sitting in a 12 Step meeting. With the steps plastered
everywhere. Don’t we profess –in Step 2 –that we Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to
sanity. And then we turn our will
and our life over to the CARE of that power.
The CARE, not the derision. Not the sadistic tendencies
of lesser gods. And certainly not our well-meaning but broken parents. They
didn’t know any better but you know, I sometimes think they should have. Didn’t
they see it in our faces? The shame, the fear, the disgust?
It ultimately doesn’t matter except like Alien they are implanted deep in our
bodies. Their words are said in OUR voices now. Their thoughts are my core belief’s;
about the world, about other people and especially about my worth.
You may not know this but I was a pretty good actress in
High School. I won awards. I did. Oh, I know it’s not the same as winning
awards for sports or anything but it wasn’t nothing. A greater God would have
spurred me to the next step. My father gave me two incredible pieces of wisdom;
1. Don’t declare a major in college, it will make it easier for you to slip
into whatever your husband likes and 2. Become a “gal Friday.”
I’m not even going to comment on that. I don’t need to,
right? The Absolute absurdity is painfully obvious.
My point –oh, there is one, just wait for it – is that I
now have the choice of who I let into my mind. Will it be the old, sabotaging,
belittling voice of smallness or the whispers of a Higher Power who CARES for
me. Cares enough to say I’m worth more than the wage I am paid. More than the
men who have left me. More than the wrinkles on my face. I am worth … well … I’m
worth whatever I want. I am worth my heart’s desire.
I am worth the wait.
