The Worry of Now

Have I always been a worrier? I guess so, considering the state of my gut during junior high (that's what we called it way back when) and through most of my life. Have I ever been free of worry? I wish I could say that after 2.5 years studying at a contemplative graduate school, I'd been able to cast aside my worrisome side, but instead I became a writer. I've read some of Ekhart Tolle's theory on the Power of Now and while I agree, in theory, that to worry can be monumental waste of time, I find that worry can also be a great teacher. So I'd like to call my theory, the Worry of Now. And my theory has served as a slap of cold water in my face and gotten me very focused.

And right now, I'm very focused on making a different kind of life for myself and my family. After losing my second job in a year, I want to be free of the constant anxiety of keeping a roof over my family's head, the modest, but new car I worked so hard to make affordable payments on parked safely in front of my house, to be able to roam the grocery aisles without keeping a running tab in my head. I want to be able to spend a relaxed night with my spouse, without the ongoing subtitle of money running along side us. We're doing a great job holding it together during this time, but it's hard to relax and be in the Now when the Now is so filled with uncertainty. I don't know how this will all work out, but I do know I am ready to make some changes that put me much more in charge of my financial destiny.

What worry woke me up from an almost certain sleep? I woke up to check that the car payment had been received. It has. The money is in the bank and the check will most likely be cashed tomorrow. Blessings on the US postal service and Blessings on my new job that allowed me to make that payment on time.

As I sit in this space of Worry, in the very nowness of my worry, I wonder, how many other people out there are doing the same thing? How many other mothers are scouring 'consignment shops' for their growing children's clothing needs, reheating yesterday's coffee? Staring into space, talking to the unknown, asking the same question - how did I get here? How did we all get here?

Blessings on us all as we enter into this new phase of hope, even if it is circled with worry. Hoe is as constant as worry and for me, they often go hand in hand. I'm only human, right? I worry, therefore I am. Are you too?

I feel better. Thanks for listening.

Looking for work and other energy drains

Wow. It has been more than a month since I last wrote. WOW. That is all I can say. This job and career hunt is one exhausting and outrageously time-consuming venture. Pretty much eating up all my creative energy, all my writing energy for anything other than cover letters.

I feel like Charlton Heston, another Northwestern alum, in Ben Hur. Driving a wild chariot with too many horses.

Horse #1 is the horse of a full-time job, one with an above average salary and benefits for my whole family.

Horse #2 is the horse of One Purpose PR, my message and media relations consulting biz that is just taking off the ground and which is what I REALLY want to put all my energy into. But times being what they are, folks are understandably squeamish about plunking down dough for anything, and since my layoff was so unexpected, we don't have a cushion to sit on for too long with this horse.

Horse #3 is the horse of not wanting to do anything except eat buttered popcorn, bon-bons and fill up my Netflix queue or head to the Rockies Spring training camp. Seriously. I could use a long rest and nothing does it like either baseball, chocolate and salt.

Horse #4 is the horse of living the life of a writer. Getting paid great amounts of money to sit and write whatever comes to my mind.

Back to reality.

The thing about looking for a job is that it is until you get one, it is all you do and it is amazing how long it takes for decisions to be made. Mostly this is because the people hiring already have full-time or more jobs and the process of interiewing once, two or three times, plus checking references, takes up most of their working hours.

I recently signed up with a temp agency and had to fill out a skills form, which included math. I'm a writer, mostly because words make the world make sense, while numbers just confuse me. When I was struggling over averages and square roots, I wished my oldest had a cell phone so I could have texted her for the answers. Not a great moment. I did at least ask for a calculator and the receptionist didn't guffaw at my answers, so I suppose I was able to do pretty well, after all.

My parents may scratch their heads, and I know they have to the point of self-injury, as to why I spent so much time chasing after the dream of being on stage. I can safely tell them that all those years of auditions and rejection are finally paying off. I know that if I don't get a job it is not because I am not good enough, smart enough or talented enough. My resume says otherwise. It is because there are so many of us overqualified folks out there that it is a real buyers market and the employers are the buyers. I feel like the house I live in, a sweet 1950's brick ranch house which could use some work, but which has really great bones. And going on job interviews is like being in an endless open house and you know what that means in this market - the house has to be perfect, clean and look brand-spanking new.

Case in point. When I first moved to in the winter of NYC, circa 1988, I would go on auditions for hours. Get up at 6am and come back, exhausted and dejected, at about 5pm. When spring began to emerge, I found a stunning yellow dress that I felt great in. Light, effervescent, like a tulip who could sing. I went to an open call for some show I was not right for and proceeded to sing my little heart out for the casting director, a woman who must have been the inspiration for the grunge movement. I have never seen so many variations of faded plaid on one person in my entire life. At the end of my 32 measures, she looked up from her NYTimes crossword puzzle and said, "That was very nice, Lisa, but DON'T EVER WEAR THAT COLOR DRESS AGAIN." You see, sometimes, you just can never tell what will set a person off either in your favor or against you. I guess this person either had some deep psychological response to the color yellow, or who knows? But what I did know was that it had nothing to do with me.

In the past six weeks since I was laid off, I have probably sent out 200 resumes and cover letters. It's pretty much all I do. I use Monster, PRJobslist, CareerBuilder, YahooJobs, Craigslist, CANPO, LinkedIn and more. I've become a networking maniac, turning every encounter into a possible connection for work or consulting. I'm relentless. In six weeks, I've had three job interviews. This is with more than 12 years of experience as a marketing and public relations specialist with a damn good track record. Is it my hair, my wardrobe? My age? The ever-deepening worry lines forming between my eyebrows? Got me.

Today I went to an interview and pulled out my portfolio, to proudly show off my collection of brochures, newsletters, ads and so on that I have designed, overseen and conceived. When I began to open the flap of my chic-ly black portfolio, I spied a small pink sock stuck in one of the plastic sleeves. I clenched my teeth, balled up the sock and shoved it into my satchel. I don't think the interviewers saw the sock, but it's presence gave me a great laugh on the way home. A little humor to keep it all in perspective. I have my health, my family, our house, a car that hopefully won't die anytime soon, pets and children who adore me.

Because in the end, as the wise ones always tell us, that is what all this is about. This endless job search. Being able to provide for my kids, do work that I love, make a positive difference.

And because I don't know any better, I am foolish enough to believe that something is coming. Something big and real and just right for me.

I'll let you know when that happens.

My Pretend Job Just Got Eliminated

Today I did the following for my newest and what I hope is my last career venture. I am stepping into: "My Real Life after Being Laid Off from My Pretend Job"

I was laid off yesterday from a job that didn't really exist, but existed enough to be laid off from. It's a bit of a tale how I came to have a pretend job, and hopefully you will be reading about it one of the fabulous magazines I trust will pick it up. But as part of my unemployment insurance agreement (see #9), I'm supposed to keep track of my daily activities that will hopefully lead to future and sustained employment. So here goes:

Day 1
1. Woke up @ 6:15am - gotta keep those job habits going.
2. Drank two cups of coffee.
3. Wet the girls hair before school.
4. Made lunch for oldest DH.
5. Changed out of my pjs - essential to wear real clothes when working from home. That was one of the most depressing things about freelancing from a home office - the wardrobe which mostly consisted of paint-spotted sweats, non-descript long sleeve or short sleeve t-shirts, fleece jacket and slippers. I swear most of take jobs we don't want because we just like to have the money for some new clothes and people to see us in them.
6. Dropped off kids at school. Stayed to chat with other parents for the first time in two months.
7. Drove home.
8. Made myself breakfast.
9. Applied online for Unemployment Insurance.
10. Wrote my first piece about my pretend job and getting laid off.
11. Took a shower.
12. Picked up the twins from school.
13. Spent $177 at Vitamin Cottage. Healthy snacks that should last us for the next century. Or until Friday.
14. Deposit vacation pay into the bank and resisted buying a ticket to Mexico.
15. Wrote some more.
16. Did two music lessons, one with lots of fuss, but we got it done.
17. Did two loads of laundry.
18. Picked up oldest DH, playdate friend with twins, DH and dog Milo.
19. Did music lesson with oldest DH.
20. Wrote a query for pretend job piece and submitted it to the Life section of Salon.com.
21. Didn't miss my pretend job one single bit.

And it's only 6pm! I plan on keeping this list going until I am gainfully employed with a real job in a real company, or get paid incredibly well for my writing, whichever comes first.