“Everything comes and goes/marked by lovers and styles of clothes/things that you held high/and told yourself were true/lost or changing as the days come/down to you.”—Joni Mitchell, Down to You
Last fall I became a New York statistic. I joined the 600,000 people in the greater New York City area to lose their jobs in the last 12 months. In my case, it was a “corporate restructuring, strategic repositioning, not performance related, blah, blah, blah.” In short, I was a big title and a big salary in the wrong office at the wrong time. It happens.
So after 13 years of sometimes frustrating, mostly blissful employment, I embark on a chapter which will either be a wild down-turn in my fortunes, or an opportunity for something better. That’s the nice way of saying I’m unemployed and looking for work.
Don’t cry too hard for me. The company treated me well and I am enough of a corporate animal to have seen this coming. Actually, a situation like this is one where it feels that being a gay man is a blessing. Around me I see others who got let go at the same time, but with large families to provide for, of which they are the sole, or decidedly dominant, bread-winner. Their concerns, as we commiserate with one another, of insurance for their children and caring for their elderly parents made me feel both a little guilty and a little thankful.
If I can afford dog food and a gym membership, I’m pretty much good to go. In a situation like this, that provides a real advantage. Also, after making the big move from my ancestral Orlando home to NYC two-plus years ago after 41 years, no geographic change seems such a big deal. You got a great job for me in Denver? Sure, why not.
But that’s the bright side of things. It is inevitable in a situation like this to wonder – despite the company’s stated reason to the contrary—If I had somehow failed. Perhaps this is a good process, to question what one could have done differently. But after a blow to your ego, it’s easy to internalize that and make losing one’s job a referendum on your self-worth.
For me, my job has only ever been a part of my identity (along with the lifestyle it has afforded me, if I’m being thoroughly transparent). I was taught by my parents to regard myself first and then everything around me second. It certainly helps in this situation to have a strong sense of self.
But it is challenged by new rhythms of life: not having to get up to go anywhere; having to be self-motivated without a to-do list staring you in the face each morning; growing more accustomed to a quieter existence where seeing people is something you seek out, instead of something you escape from at the end of the day.
In those quieter moments, I have had the first chance in some time for serious introspection. I expected to be more freaked out, to be honest. This was mollified some by a number of very good opportunities in different sectors for some exciting jobs. I was fortunate enough to pick up some great contract work almost immediately, have incorporated, am seeking new opportunities of all complexions and am hopeful about what lies before me. Those hopes dry up and I’m left with nothing, however, and we’ll see the effect on my freak-out-meter.
It helped that so many friends sent me over-the-top encouragement and pronouncements of my talent that provided a real tonic in those first days. Family and closer friends, obviously, have done even more. They’ve been more attentive. They’ll call “just to chat” more than they ordinarily would. A few key friends have offered some absolutely invaluable advice. But eventually, everyone has their own briefcase to carry, and all the well-wishes, while helpful to the ego and the soul, don’t do any of the necessary work in front of me.
For now, the work I have to do feels like an opportunity, if for nothing other than a status check on how my career and life are going. Letting go. It seems the lesson in it all. Turns out, I am not my job. My body. My hair. (With apologies to India.Arie) I am not the clothes I wear, or where I live. I am not my friendships, or my lovers.
The last two years of my life have been all about challenging my boundaries, and taking some chances. In that time, I’ve lost more than I thought I would and gained more than I thought available. Through that experience, I know now that I can challenge whatever truisms and support systems I thought existed in my life. They can fall down. In some cases they can crumble away in the blink of an eye.
But I’m still me. I’m still here. I’ll be fine.
Everything good you have in your life came from you. The people you love, the things you’ve achieved, the lessons you’ve learned. Our lives, whether we except it or not, are in our hands to run. You can depend on other people along the road, lean on them when necessary, but at the end of the day, Joni’s right.
It all comes down to you.
