53 Hours Ago...

I was laid off.

When last we spoke I was preparing for my Vegas trip and my dream meal. I intended to come back here to post all the photos of the meal (#3 on my 40 by 40). I'm still going to do that (it was amazing)...it's just that I got derailed by the news that my job was eliminated on Wednesday. Like...53 hours ago.

I'm still in shock, which I hate because logically I knew this was a possibility. We all knew cuts were coming and I knew I could be at risk, but I also knew I was doing good work and I guess I let myself temporarily suspend my cynicism since the scenario in which I still had a job was a lot easier to swallow than the alternative.

Yet I feel like I knew it was coming. That incredible meal felt like the apex of something. Like things might never be this way again. And even that morning...54 hours ago...the Starbucks barista who comically never acknowledges that we've ever seen each other before despite the fact that I had been there almost daily for 2+ years...well, she noticed that my hair was different. The universe was trying to give me a heads up.

I get it, universe. I need to find a less soul-crushing way to make a living. For real this time.

I've been trying to find words for it. For what I feel. I'm surprisingly empty. I cried a lot on Wednesday, but even as the tears were flowing, I was telling myself that I wasn't sad about not working there. I wasn't sad that I didn't have to try to make sense of a totally fucked up environment.

I was sad to leave my team. My team that I fought for and truly care about. I was sad to have my last two and a half years of effort thanked with an incredibly unceremonious slam of the door. (P.S. Fuck you.)

I'm mad that I let myself care so much. I'm mad that I let myself believe I could make a difference in an institution so blatantly uninterested in being better. More profitable? Sure. But better? No thank you. Not if it means something would really have to change.

But I don't really want to be sad or mad about it. What I'm waiting for is the physical realization that all of that is behind me now. The wave of relief washing over me, reminding me that that's never who I really was, nor aspired to be. A sense of humor about how truly fucked up it really is. Excitement that this is my chance to do something else. Something better.

I'm not there yet, but I know I'm inching closer. Here's hoping it comes in the next 53 hours.