Day 5

I hadn't left the condo since Day 2.  I'd been subsisting on take-out and demands that were yelled as Steven went to his car every day.

So when my fiance gave me an ultimatum (which, to be fair, I don't know if he would have gone through with, but I didn't feel like challenging him) of "either come with me to the grocery store, or you don't get any snacks", I reluctantly rolled around in some clean laundry.

A grocery list was made.  Reluctantly.  Trying to think of healthier things to eat during the week instead of inhaling Wings N Things, or pizza hour after hour (ugh, the idea right now is giving me heartburn already).  Because, let's face it.  When you're not at your best and feelin' down, who wants carrot sticks?!


Off to the supermarket we went.  The supermarket, however, is outside.  Of course it is.  In order to get to all that vast amount of food, I'd need to see sunlight.

IT BUUUURNNNS.

After groping blindly to the car, we were off.  And I was doing okay!  As added incentive, Steven also said we should stop off at Comickaze and pick up something new for me to read.  After getting several dozen new comic recommendations from friends (Locke & Key! Runaways! Sandman! Everythiiiiing!), I figured whatever art style appealed to me most at the moment would come home with me.

... nothing came home with me. 

This is not for lack of trying.  I really really did want something to speak out, grab me by the eyballs and say "LOOK AT ME!  READ ME! DEVOUR ME!" and any time I thought I might have found one:

aw hell no.  i can't even afford to touch these, man!

No really, stop laughing.  Usually I give myself an entertainment budget of sorts, but with no new income traipsing into my bank account I have to be extra frugal.  Wary of prices.  Even if it is something I know will make me happy.  On top of that, all the comics I had picked out didn't seem to include Volume 1.   Comic-blocked.  Steven offered to pay, to come back later and check if what I wanted had come in yet - and that's sweet of him.  Still, the need for instant gratification, leaving a store with something you desire in your hot little hands, that's kind of what I needed.  And I couldn't have it.
So, instead of stuffing myself with wondrous stories and beautiful intriguing artwork...

Paris Baguette now has "escort off property" written under my picture in their store.

 

soooo fresh, healthy food acquired.  You know, for when I'm home alone in the next day or so.  But right now?

Day 1

Driving in, on a muggy, hot August morning, I was reminded how my friend controls the weather.  When she's happy, the weather is breezy and warm.  When she's sad, well - let's just say it started raining today.

Several friends and former co-workers (how do I refer to them anymore?  They're my friends, but we worked together - it feels like I'm complicating things unnecessarily...) decided to go back into the office to salvage what files we could from our computers.

IT would be there, to help us out (or rather, IT was there to... monitor what we were grabbing?) So many people who get laid off don't get this chance.   At least we'd be able to show off all the great work we'd done for the last several years - and I'm grateful for that.  Over 7 Gigs of work.  Wow. 

Like a mini reunion (because we hadn't all seen each other since midday yesterday, and that's a really long time), we all gathered together, traded stories and plans and ideas and wishes and hopes and hugs and and and and.  and.

Wandered into our old conference room, also known as the post-it room, where all us artists would doodle while waiting for the morning meeting to be over.  Found our portrait wall.  Made me smile.


Do you ever wonder sometimes (just sometimes), when a major event in your life has occurred, if all the radio stations have banned together to provide a soundtrack for your situation?  Say that special someone just said they love you for the first time, and you're driving home then bam!  I'm Yours by Jason Mraz comes on.  Followed swiftly by I Wanna Hold Your Hand.  And the hits just keep on coming?

This happened as we drove away from the building.  Goodbye To You by the Veronicas.  Living On A Prayer by Bon Jovi.  Song after song.  But it wasn't until I flipped the station again, and came across Gone, Gone, Gone by Phillip Phillips that my outlook changed.

 I went from:

to :

 

When you fall like a statue
I'm gon' be there to catch you
Put you on your feet, you on your feet.
And if your well is empty
Not a thing will prevent me.
Tell me what you need, what do you need?

I surrender honestly.
You've always done the same for me.

So I would do it for you, for you.

(also, am I the only one who thinks he says "you're my -crotch- when my legs stop moving"?  Yeah.  You smiled too.)   

The aftermath

Home.

Where I lay down, and watched reality tv with my fiance (who, bless his heart, raced home to be there for me whilst I had a meltdown in the condo parking lot).  Curled up with a pillow, a cold drink, and the prospect of pizza soon and ice cream.  Because even though the appetite was nil, my inner fat kid just wanted to be comforted via my mouth.

This helped.  Like, a lot.  Mostly it was because I hadn't eaten all day and my head was pounding, and boom boom booming against my cranium.  Still, thanks Ben & Jerry.   You've always been there for me.

But the longer I sat there, eating my amazing ice cream, scalding the roof of my mouth with burning hot DiGiorno, and watching horrible reality tv - I couldn't help but notice how horribly depressing it all was.  Show after show.

"Please pack up your knives and go. Your work of art, didn't work for me. I have to ask you to leave the mansion. You must leave the chateau. Your tour ends here. You've been chopped! You've been evicted from the Big Brother house. Your dessert just didn't measure up. Sashay away! Give me your jacket and leave Hell's Kitchen. You did not get a rose. You have been eliminated from the race. You are no longer in the running to be America's Next Top Model. You're fired. Auf wiedersehen."

These phrases really weren't what I needed to hear as I wallowed in self pity.  With that, I took myself to bed.  Or rather, my fiance put me to bed in a blubbering dazed heap of tissues. And tried to sleep.

Tomorrow is a new day, and I know things will get better.  But, right now, ice cream and tissue. Ice cream, and tissue.

Ground 0

Going into miniscule word-for-word detail about what happened in that cramped room, filled-to-the-brim with stressed/confused people, isn't how I'm going to start this journey.  What happened in that room, many people the world over have experienced.

well, except for me.

this was my first time.



We sat there, quietly, sometimes cracking a joke, sometimes just nervously bouncing a leg up and down.  up and down.  up and down.

as the Big Man On Campus came strolling in, 

all I kept hearing in my head was "no. no-no.  no no no no no".   But it happened anyway.  Beforehand, looking at those who accompanied me in said room, I kept trying to pick out the faces of those I knew, just knew, couldn't be affected.  Impossible.  That guy right there?  Super-amazing artist.  That lady clutching a handbag to her chest?  Hard-working. 

When our suspicions were confirmed, there were a wide range of reactions.

But me?  No, I didn't do any of those.

But that? Yeah.  I've got a mixed-bag of feelings for all those feelings I felt.  Everything that ran through my head from "we'll have to postpone the wedding" to "I'll never see my best friends ever again!" were insane and nonsensical and totally blown out of proportion.  But I shoved 'em inside, and just let it all leak out of my eyes quietly.  Part of me is ashamed that I let the cracks in my hull show while there.  Can you unashamedly admit shame?  

Once back at my desk, that's where the breakdown occurred.  While gathering the mass of toys and cards, and posters and memories that had accrued on and around my desk for the past 4 1/2 years - it all hit me like a ton of bricks.

But, like every time in life when something poopy has occurred, there were friends.  Friends who just went through that same agonizing meeting.  Friends who were spared and felt guilt.  Friends who just couldn't stop their own waterworks. 

(there was a supreme amount of love-shouting).  

And I know there will be bigger and better things out there.  Somewhere, for me, and for all those who marched out to their cars with cardboard boxes.   Why?  Because I have to believe.  I have to have hope. 

So I write this blog.  To share the journey.  The roller-coaster.