Wednesday, September 30, 2009

The Last Day

When I first arrived at HRG, I was on crutches, had an IV port implanted in my upper left arm, and was recovering from a badly beaten ego. I was doing two intravenous doses a day. at 90 minutes each, of an antibiotic called Vancomycin, a.k.a. "the antibiotic of last resort." The crutches were so I could keep the weight off my left foot, from which I had just had a piece of bone removed where my doctors believed the source of my MRSA infection was alive and well and having parties in my bone marrow. The medicine was doing its damndest to try to kill the infection, or at the very least, force it to get some sleep. Lastly, the beating to my ego was inflicted by the strain of the past three months of trying to do a 90 hour a week job, please an implacable, insane and ignorant supervisor, and fight off a potentially fatal infection at the same time.

It was January of 2007. I had left my old job on the 6th and started at HRG on the 9th. At first it was just four or five hours a day, answering phones, entering data. Something, my sister told me, that would be easy, just right for me as I struggled to recover from my illness. And it was nice to have something to break up the tedium of watching that IV line leach its half-cure, half-poison into my arm.

Today is my last day at HRG, and while I'm definitely sad about it, it's also good to see how far I've come since that first day back in that sick and scary winter of '07. Since arriving here as a quasi-temp receptionist, I managed to be promoted to director of marketing communications, execute some truly fabulous branding work, build a dozen or so websites, and help a number of local and national not-for-profits do what they do even more successfully.

When I think about how damn sick I was, how long it took for me to get better, how the auto-immune souvenirs of that illness, while still sticking around, are so much better than they were, and above all, how it helped me to realize, through some great colleagues and clients, that my former boss at my old job was pretty much the only person I've ever met who didn't like me or the way I did my work. It is even more fulfilling that in the ensuing three years, she has totally gotten what she deserves. And so have I - I leave HRG with countless friends, the gratitude of my awesome clients, and a real sense of a job well done. Even better than that, I leave with faith in my potential -- that I know wherever I land, I will have a chance to do fulfilling work that is even better, at an even higher level, than the work I did here.

In the time I've spent here, it has allowed me - while still doing some great marketing work, learning new technologies, and seeing what life was like from the for-profit point of view - to take better care of myself, to lose 70 pounds, to handle health challenges, and to figure out what it is I want to do next. While working here, I learned my book would be published. I let go of a horrible person or two. I fulfilled a seven year dream of taking on a larger role at my temple. And I managed to learn that you don't have to stay in bad situations, no matter what sort of noble or faithful reasons you may have for hanging around. If the good in a bad scene is good enough, it will follow you on the path away from the negative and destructive. And if it doesn't, maybe it is really part of the bad.

So as I say so long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, adieu (to you and you and you) to my time here, to the little company that could, and to the sick and shattered person I was when I arrived, I look with faith towards a future where anything can happen. Where even, perhaps, I can make it happen for myself.

Monday, September 14, 2009

The To-Don't List for 5770

Yeah, I know: it's (once again) been a while. But it has been an eventful while. First, I should let you know that all was well that ended well with the dreaded Electric Hemorrhoid Bridesmaid's Dress (tm). Even with the two hotel washcloths stuffed into the bodice after the failure of the adhesive bra (really just a fancy name for ineffective boob-shaped scotch tape), and the fact that I had lost more weight after the final fitting and thus, had way more space in the dress than I thought I'd need, the damn thing didn't look too bad. I submit a photo for your approval here:



Coming back from the wedding (which was wonderful!), however, and coming off a weekend of alcohol-soaked bliss (I put my car away in a Philadelphia parking lot on Thursday night and didn't retrieve it until hungover on Sunday), wasn't so much fun. On my way home that afternoon, I found myself undone by said hangover and an eye infection. Not to mention a tiny incident, which I won't detail here, which sent me into a relative tailspin with regard to a relationship that I once thought was stable and happy and good - it isn't, it wasn't, and it's not likely ever to be. That was enough to put me into meltdown mode, making me in fact wonder how many hours in one lifetime do I have to spend crying in the bathroom on the New Jersey Turnpike. (The Grover Cleveland Service Area, to be specific, seems to be my service area of choice in 2009.)

Little did I know that things were about to get worse. That Wednesday, I was told that my company was eliminating three positions. Mine would be one of them.

So, there I was, finally having achieved many of the things I've been struggling with for years: I'm down 68 pounds, stopped biting my nails, wrote a pretty damn good piece about an incident in my past which has been an issue for some time. There I was, feeling like I was finally me. Like a woman who could even look decent in a pink dress made for a 22 year old. Like I was going to be all right. Like I owned it. And then: G-d laughed.

Now, perhaps I'm overdramatizing the job loss. Certainly I know a lot of people who have been laid off, had their jobs eliminated, etc. But for so long, I really thought I was safe. I thought I was going to beat this recession. But I didn't. Now, I'm a statistic. A statistic who is moving back home with Mom.

After all these years, it's a huge bummer to lose my home - and all of the privileges that go with it. Like making myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich at 1AM because I feel like it. Watching repeats of Family Guy before bed. Post-midnight phone conversations. And of course, the obvious freedom that comes with not living at home. I've been on my own for more than 17 years and it just feels like part of my life is over. Like I'm in mourning for my independence. To that end, my friend Todd recently asked me that if one is sitting shivah for their sex life, does that mean you cover the mirrors on your ceiling? I know none of it is forever, but it is depressing just the same.

Which leads me to where I am now - while I'm trying to focus on the positive (no rent check every month! getting unemployment! writing another book!) I just feel so angry and worthless and messed up that I don't really know what to do. Out for dinner last Thursday night, upon hearing a joke I realized that it had been so long since I had really laughed or smiled. I'm just mad all the time. Today, after a soon to be former colleague publicly treated me like crap - bascially ordering me to do admin work for her, and figuring she can because I'm no longer worth treating nicely - I heard myself wishing a slow painful death on her. Out loud. Really, this economic instability is a bad thing. I'm not quite sure whom I have become.

Given that we're less than a week out from the Jewish holidays, I think if my personal atonement is going to be worth anything, I have to be more conscious of just how horrid and unpleasant I am these days. I know I have limited patience, and limited resources, and there's a big part of me that just doesn't feel like being nice, and is tired of good things happening to rotten people. So in that vein, here are the things I am hoping I will stop doing, at least in the immediate term:


The To-Don't List

1. Stop wishing a slow and painful death on people I don't like. You know who you are. Besides, I always have books in which to kill them off.
2. Stop coveting Rock Band, the two Remastered Album collections, and all other Beatles products that are out of my budget right now: I'm only making myself miserable.
3. Stop being a bitch in committee meetings. No one wants to be there. Not just me.
4. Stop wishing in vain for a change of heart. Inertia is a cruel mistress.
5. Stop skipping my first dose of metformin. If I didn't need it, the doctor wouldn't have prescribed it.
6. Stop worrying about moving back home. Mom is cool and she loves me. Maybe I will even learn how to share space with someone. It'll be fine.
7. Stop feeling restricted by other people's expectations. Dude, I am almost 40. Old enough to know better.
8. Stop drinking Coke. Even though I'm only drinking it once a week. Metformin does NOT make it OK.
9. Stop wasting time on Facebook, Twitter, etc. I have another book to write. At least one.
10. Stop feeling so awful. Find yourself. Look outside at the sunlight. It is still a beautiful world, full of light and love and friends and chances. I am going to be OK.

Right?

A new year awaits. May we all be inscribed for a better one.

Shana tova u'metuka.