Rather than wallow in self-pity, I feel that if I share my feelings and the inevitable challenges that one faces through a "downsize", it will be therapeutic for me, and perhaps even helpful to others going through a similar experience.
While this blogging effort has seemingly soothed my soul, it appears to have agitated the souls of some others. Indulge me a moment of clarification here please.
When I began writing to this weblog, I had every with intention of using it as a means to work through the emotional meltdown that being downsized can cause a person. I am a person who needs to vent. I chose a method to vent that would be most beneficial to me in a number of ways. Writing as an outlet has always brought me comfort. Writing has always been a tool I have used to walk through tangled emotions, and it has helped me sift through them in a logical way that ultimately eases me towards closure. I also have a multitude of friends and family who are online. The blogging facilitated the ability to keep concerned family and friends updated as to my state of mind as I worked through the stress of being laid off from a place of work I truly believed I would have been at for a very long time.
I loved the work I did. I wholeheartedly believed in the product that the Former Company I worked for produced. I was an avid spokesperson for the product (and the company) touting its benefits whenever and wherever possible. I didn't do this because I was being paid to do it (I wasn't). I did it because, as I said, I truly believed in the quality of the product and the potential of the company. I jumped up with pleasure every morning, eager to face another day at the office, where I admired and enjoyed the people I worked with on a daily basis. I was often the first one through the doors, an hour and a half before other people ambled in, and rarely left at the official closing hour. I really loved my job.
The purpose of this blog was, as stated, to help ease the pain of the unexpected challenge I was facing. It was never meant to maliciously malign or slander. It contains my opinions, not those of others. Where it may contain rumour and perceived innuendo, I clearly denote that "whatever" is just that -- rumour and innuendo. I have never refered to the Former Company by name, nor have I identified any individual by name. I certainly never set out to hurt anyone. But I do believe that it is within my constitutional right to express myself.
While I sent the link to the blogger out to friends and family to keep them in touch and avert repeating myself in every concerned phone call, it seems it has reached individuals who are still gainfully employed by, and wholly devoted to the Former Company. Some have clearly taken offence at my perception of the way things were handled by the Former Company. To them I apologize if I have offended. I repeat, however, that it is within my constitutional right to express myself.
There are individuals at the Former Company who I greatly admired and believed were the pillars of honesty and truth. When I have written of instances of how the Downsize situation was handled (or mishandled, in my opinion), I refer to "roles" -- Directors, Managers etc. These are roles that by professional standards imply ceratin levels of professional "know-how" and expertise. When I have criticized roles, I in no way meant to criticize individuals who I still hold in high regard as "people" and former colleagues, many with unquestionable integrity.
Anyone who has faced challenges of whatever nature in his or her lifetime knows that they come with a whole suitcase full of emotions. While some choose the option of "going postal" and viciously attacking people (sometimes in a physical sense)who they feel have slighted them, I have chosen another means of coping. In situations of difficulty, some people turn to prayer and look to G-d for the comfort they seek. Yet others choose the route of drowning their sorrows in a bottle of anything that will numb the pain. If one follows this weblog from start to present, I believe the transition from "bitterness" and disbelief to acceptance is clear. In my opinion, I have more or less "made peace" with my situation such as it is. If the "peacemaking" that has comforted me and allowed me to move past the initial anger, resentment and hurt has in turn hurt others, I will make apology to those feeling slighted. I will not, however, apologize for self-expression or the process that I chose to cope.
I have read and reread, and very carefully chosen my words. I have given clear thought to the fact that the words are published. I am also aware of the fact that had I not sent someone a link to this weblog, there would be no way to find it at random. It is not published on a search engine. It is not advertised in any publication. If it was sent to where it perhaps was not welcome, I question the motive of the sender.
Ironically, there have been a number of Human Resources career types who have heard of the weblog through others, and have asked to read it in an effort glean insight to the "other side". They want to know what people who are faced with this particular challenge go through. Perhaps in the end the painful process that I went through will lead to a greater degree of sensitivity on the part of the people who have the onerous task of letting someone go from a job along the way.
When it was brought to my attention that I had offended someone whose skills I greatly admired, I reread the weblog from start to finish. There are segments early on that are harsh and rife with criticism. I make no apologies for my state of mind at the time the entries were written. I had every right to be [insert synonyms for "angry" here], and to feel what I felt. All of the emotions that I felt are emotions that are intrinsically connected with shock. They needed to be worked through. And they clearly were and are still being worked through, if one reads to the present entries. I am a person who cares a great deal about other people. To think that I personally offended someone I care about eats away at me. If it didn't, I wouldn't be pounding on the keyboard at this very moment typing up this entry.
If someone chooses to use this weblog to damage my professional reputation, I suppose it is a risk I take by expressing myself openly. I do not believe that my professionalism in the workplace should ever be questioned or harmed because I choose to work constructively through an emotionally charged situation.
I will not make apologies for blogging in my own name and not hiding behind a veil of anonymity. I am what I am and that's all that I am.
OK, so "Drama Red" was a little too pink for our tastes. We tried the colourwash over the base coat (which was a hideous shade of bubble gum pink, though it was actually called "Cranberry" something-or-other), and it failed our tastes miserably. Off we trotted back to the friendly neighbourhood Home Depot for a can of "Rapture" red. Out the window went the colourwash technique. On the wall went the first coat of "Rapture" and I must say, it is the prefect match for the newly black lacquered furniture and the soon-to-be-installed "Iron Ore" (a deep shade of charcoal) carpeting. So far so good, with only the little *blip* of messing up paint choices. I am thinking it might be time to change the blogger name to "Diary of a Redecorate". Heh. Whatever works to get me through the unemployment blues, I say!
I had a long chat with the teenage daughter the other day. It seems that my mood since the Downsize has taken its toll on my daughter. Getting along is a challenge for any mother and daughter...there is *supposed* to be a certain dynamic to the nature of a parent-child relationship. She came to me in tears feeling the "You don't express your love for me like you do for him (the hubby)" thing. She acknowledged that I do send her email expressions of my love, write her love notes etc. But I apparently don't hug her enough, tell her I love her enough, show her the love I feel for her. It's funny you know. We have amazing talks regularly. The separation and divorce from her dad, followed by her own disowning of him brought us infinitely closer together over the years as I truly became her sole parent and security blanket. When her moods shift, I am often able to pull out of her that much of what she is feeling relates back to her "dad issues", and we can talk it through. But she is a child who, unlike her mother (and regretfully somewhat like her father in this respect) resists opening up readily on some issues. As a result, the pressure builds up inside of her and she eventually explodes through mood swings and the like. Whereas I have learned over the years that having a "sounding board" is a good thing, she has always resisted the notion of "talking to a stranger about your problems" as not being the best way to cope. In the end though, I always become the sounding board that she doesn't think she needs. I am not complaining. I am grateful that I am "in touch" enough with her to sense when I am needed to perform that role. I only wish sometimes that she would appreciate that opening up before a meltdown can avert some pain. But these are lessons learned with time. In the meantime, I have broad shoulders to cry on.
It's tough being 15, and I remember that well. While the hubby and I both appreciate that 15 is an age of me, myself and I, it can be most frustrating at the best of times to share a space with the insensitivity that is wrapped up in that attitude. The fact that she is an only child, and neither of us were doesn't help. In our respective cases, we were forced by necessity to learn to share by virtue of having siblings. Kids today are a lot different than we were too. They are exposed to more sopistication than we were, and are forced to be more competitive than many of us were. All of this contributes to the historically familiar and much dreaded "generation gap" that is a different kind of generation gap that any of us experienced in our own youth. Herein lies the challenge of parenting, especially parenting in a "blended" family. Though my husband did not bring children to the marriage, he adopted my daughter in every way but legally. I give him a great deal of credit in adapting as well as he has to the parenting of a teenager. There are many times that I have witnessed him biting his tongue until it almost bleeds, and walking into another room to "vent" to the walls. His patience has been tried time and time again, and yet he hangs in determined to make it all work. And it is working. The relationship between him and my daughter has bloomed into a solid familial bond. But the bottom line is that he is still "only" the stepdad, and I suppose with that comes a little bit of trepidation when it comes to physical bonding. Knowing the family he comes from, he is a "hugger" by nature. He would, I believe, jump at the opportunity to throw his arms around her in good times and not-so-good times. But there is that moment of hesitation as to how his expression might be interpreted. Yet another "sign of the times" that our children have grown up in, being exposed to the good touching, bad touching teaching as they grow up in this very different world with its very different challenges.
My daughter and I sifted through her tangled emotions and made our peace with the fact that we both need to be a little more sensitive. I successfully expressed that I am not a "mind reader" and that I would appreciate being reminded gently along the way before the mood shifts into "meltdown". She successfully expressed that she needs more "loving", and raised my consciousness to that fact. Together, we brought her stepdad into the fold so that he has gleaned more insight. The bottom line is that I think we, as a family, are working well through the multitude of challenges that we have faced, the recent Downsize being among them. Nothing in life is more worth working for than a solid family unit. We're getting there.
Ever have one of those days? We did not finish the work we had set out to accomplish yesteday until after 10 at night, which means we did not get cleaned up, showered and to sleep until well after midnight. My day began with me waking up with a shot and looking at the clock. We are back at our friends' place again, which is only a few blocks from home. It was 6:45 AM and I promised the teenage daughter I would phone home to make sure she was awake to catch her bus to school. She was. I went back to sleep, thinking I was homefree to another hour or so of rest. No such luck.
At 7:30 the phone beside the bed rang, and I jumped up thinking it was the teenage daughter. It wasn't. It was our friends' contractor who had renovated their home a couple of years ago. He had been told that there were some things in the house needing mending, and wanted to know if he could come over to check on them. No sleep for me. The hubby is sound asleep though, catching his much needed rest from yesterday's long, hard day of labour. I jumped out of bed, made the required java and waited. The workman showed up, checked on repairs needed, made arrangements for when to come back to do said repairs and left.
I took my java into the other room, booted up the 'puter and went to check my mail. There sat the answer I wasn't hoping for. It was the email telling me that I had not been called back for a 2nd interview for the job I really wanted. The email clearly stated that I had brought all of the right "impressive" credentials to the table, but of the 11 candidates interviewed, only one had been called back for round two, as this candidate was the "right fit", in addition to having the credentials. There was a second paragraph asking my permission to keep my resume on file for future opportunities that may arise. Funny, after the first interview, I heard almost the exact same phrase as the reason for not being chosen. Strike two.
It's trying on the spirit, these rejections. It makes one wonder what exactly is the right fit? If I don't figure it out soon, I may find myself still blogging rather than earning a living months from now. But then again, each and every rejection is followed up by more soul-searching. What do I need to do next in order to succeed in the grueling task of being the "right fit"? I have already decided that when this round of renovations is done and the house is back into some semblance of cleanliness and balance, I am going to haul out every book I have on web-based skills and start the task of reeducating myself. I won't say "reinventing", as I have done that one already. But my one area of weakness is that I never really jumped on the web-building bandwagon. Coding skills are a must, I am seeing in the new age of online learning. If I want to stay competitve in the field of Instructional Design, I am going to have to learn more about the e-learning world. That will provide me a stronger skill set to bring to a marketplace that is looking for someone who not only has the ability to put together a curriulum, but the know-how to get that curriculum up and running in an online environment. That is if I choose to stay in the same job-hunting market that I set out to pursue. Which brings me back to the soul-searching.
So, I have a day full of painting ahead alongside the man who is spending his much-needed "vacation" labouring with me. More time for contemplation as the "Drifting Clouds" colour sets into the ceiling and the "Drama Red" makes it wall debut.
A quick morning entry because I have a moment to spare.
Our bodies ache, but our bedroom is in the preparation stages. I haven't seen the room empty since I first moved in 11 years ago. We spent hours yesterday at Home Depot choosing colours and gathering any additional supplies we might need. We finally settled on "Drama Red" to be glazed on in a colourwash over some rose-tinted colour, with "Drifting Clouds" white on the ceiling. (We found out yesterday, by the way, that companies do in fact choose names for paint colours over a keg of beer!) I am painting the outdated, but sturdy furniture in a glossy black melamine, giving the appearance of a lacquer finish. I began the adventure of removing the bedroom ceiling stucco, but it turns out that it had once been painted over with an oil-based paint, and so the chore became all the more difficult. I deferred, in the end, to my beloved hubby who picked up where I left off. Thank goodness for teamwork! It's about three quarters the way done, and once it's complete we can look to working on the patching, sanding and painting. In the meantime, it took a LOT of shampoo and soap to clean both of us up after the duststorm of scraping a ceiling full of stucco!
Friends of ours are out of town for a couple of weeks, which gives us a second home to go to, since we have nowhere to sleep, given the present bedroom state of "undone". (The spare room is full of our bedroom furniture and belongings.) The most wonderful thing about this little retreat, besides a purring kitty who is lonely without her "Mommy", is the hottub on the enclosed back deck. After a long, hard day of stretching, lifting and moving, there is nothing like a long soak in the hottub to ease the muscle aches. It's wierd waking up in a place that is not your own, but at least we are rested for another day's work.
I was supposed to have heard back by Friday from an interview I went out on almost two weeks ago. This was the one for the training design company. They assured me that they would be calling all of the candidates back, whether they were shortlisted or not. I have yet to hear back from them. My attitude of late has been that I go out to the interview, leave when it's done, and put it out of my head until I hear back one way or the other. It saves the heartache of getting one's hopes up too high lest there be a letdown. I had successfully put it out of my head until my brother phoned yesterday, on behalf of my mom to find out if I had heard anything. For the record, I haven't heard anything Mom. I am left to wonder if they did not shortlist me and thus waited to call this week to tell me so. You see... thus the "putting it out of my head" thing. I don't want to think about all the "what ifs"...it makes for sweaty palms and stressful moments.
But there is no better stress alleviator, I am finding, than opening a can of paint and being creative. Hi Ho Hi Ho, it's off to paint I go.
