Showing posts with label job loss. Show all posts
Showing posts with label job loss. Show all posts

Monday, January 29, 2024

#MicroblogMondays: Odds & ends

(I don't particularly like combining an "odds & ends" post with #MicroblogMondays, but it's what I have today so... here it is!)  
  • I don't remember exactly where I found Ryan Rose Weaver on Substack, but I think it was in a response to another Substacker's post where she mentioned her pregnancy loss.  This interview she did with Jess Van Wyen, who has chosen to remain childless/free after loss -- not a miscarriage or stillbirth but a termination for medical reasons (TFMR -- in plain language, an abortion) -- and has since become an advocate for reproductive rights -- is truly inspiring and says so many of the things many of us as childless women are thinking, feeling and wishing we could tell other people about our lives.  **Content warning: Given the sensitive topic, this may or may not be a good fit for you as a reader. Also, pregnancy & baby loss photos are included.** 
  • Lyz Lenz at "Men Yell at Me" has a new book coming out soon about divorce, "This American Ex-Wife." (She also has a new podcast by the same name.) In a recent discussion thread,  she asked her subscribers (which includes me) to weigh in on "the moment when you knew it was time to quit."  
    • Said Lyz:  "I want to expand this beyond marriages. I want to know the moment when you knew it was time to quit — your job, your relationship, your friendships. Let’s talk about our moments of breaking." 
    • I posted about the moment when I knew it was time to quit infertility treatments and accept a permanently childless life (which I've written about on this blog). Another woman posted something similar not long after I did, too.  :)  
    • So far, my comment has received 37 (!) "likes" as well as a couple of replies.   
  • I'm a big fan of my fellow Manitoban Dr. Jen Gunter :)  and I am looking forward to picking up a copy of her latest book, "Blood" (about menstruation), which was released this past week. Here's a great review from The Guardian
  • Totally non-ALI-related, but I thought it was worthwhile passing along:  I'm a (non-paid) subscriber to Chris Cilizza's Substack, "So What?"  Chris writes primarily about U.S. politics, which is what he did when he was at CNN and (before that) the Washington Post. But he's also written a lot about the experience of losing his job at CNN -- including this piece here.  
    • Been there, done that, bought the T-shirt.  I can relate, and I know I would have appreciated his words back then. 
    • (In July, it will be TEN YEARS since I got my own marching papers!! Can you believe it?? Yikes!!)  
    • All of my job loss-related posts are tagged "job loss,"  here
You can find more of this week's #MicroblogMondays posts here

    Saturday, May 20, 2023

    Long weekend odds & ends

    • What a crazy week it's been...!  I think we've had something to do -- usually involving an alarm clock -- almost every day.  
      • Monday: dh drove BIL & Older Nephew downtown for a medical appointment, early in the morning, and was out until early/mid-afternoon. I took advantage of his absence to wash the floor mats & mop the floors (the tiles in the kitchen, entryway and bathrooms, anyway). And then enjoyed some rare "me alone at home" time!  ;) 
      • Tuesday, we stayed with Little Great-Nephew from 7:30 a.m. until about 2 p.m., while BIL & SIL went for a lengthy medical appointment. 
      • Wednesday morning, we travelled into midtown Toronto (the neighbourhood where we lived when we were first married) for dental appointments (cleanings & checkups). (We were also there last week for an optometrist checkup for me.) All good!  
        • When we got home, we did laundry. 
      • Thursday morning, we set an alarm, got up early and did the housecleaning, so that I could attend a Zoom meeting/chat/planning session at 11 a.m. 
        • We usually do the housecleaning on Friday, but... 
      • Friday morning, we returned to our old community for much-needed haircuts!  
      • Dh is out again this morning, heading up to Older Nephew's house with BIL to do some guy-type stuff.  ;)  I could have slept in... but of course, I was wide awake at 6:30 a.m., even before  dh's alarm, set for 7, rang. Oh well...!  
    • It's been (mostly) milder here lately (no humidity -- yet! -- yay!!), but overcast/grey -- possibly (likely?) the result of the wildfires that are burning in Alberta right now -- some 3500 km/2200 miles away!  Air quality has been "moderate" (not really bad, but not great either). The pollen count has been very high too.  We like to have the balcony door open when it's nice enough to do so, but needless to say, we've both had dry, irritated eyes and we've both been sneezing! :p
      • It's raining today, so hopefully that will help the air quality issues...   
    • It's the Victoria Day long weekend here, regarded as the traditional kickoff to summer. We've been invited to BIL's on Sunday, along with the nephews and their families, and we're looking forward to that. (We haven't seen our new Little Great-Niece since Easter!)  Hopefully the weather will improve, though...!  
      • Fireworks on Victoria Day are also traditional (although they tend to be seen & heard all weekend long, not just on Monday night...!) -- and sometimes we see even more displays this weekend than we do on Canada Day, in July! -- but I guess we'll see what happens re: the weather...!  
    • Several friends' & relatives' kids recently turned 25, or will be soon (just as another certain young woman would have, if she'd arrived as planned in November 1998):  my cousin's youngest daughter in early March, dh's cousin's oldest son in mid-April (I was newly pregnant and "out" at his mom's baby shower earlier that month), and just this past week, the son of one of my best friends from growing up, as well as a high school classmate's daughter. I will admit, seeing those birthday photos and greetings gave me pangs. Sigh.  
    • I got an email recently from my alma mater, the university where I got my undergraduate degree in arts: "Congratulations on the 40th anniversary of your graduation from the Faculty of Arts with the University of....! We are so proud to have you as part of our alumni community...."  My first reaction:  "Yikes!! FORTY YEARS??!!"  (My second reaction: how much money do they want??  lol)(Answer:  none -- this time (!) -- but they did suggest I should make plans to attend homecoming this year...!)  
    • Ugh... I recently got one of those "Lori, do you know...?" emails from LinkedIn. The person in question was my old boss -- my last boss, before I was unceremoniously shown the door after 28 years of fully satisfactory to above average service, almost 9 years ago now. She emailed me at home a few days after I was pinkslipped ("if there's anything I can do...") -- I thanked her, and that's the last I've heard from her (or she from me) since then. It's too long and complicated to explain why here (and to be honest, I'm not even entirely sure why myself), but... I just... had no desire to stay in touch.  
      • Anyway, I was curious what she's up to these days, so I clicked to have a look at her profile. Or so I thought. What happened instead was I sent a "connection" request to her.  (!) I had no idea how to rescind it (and to do so without her knowing), so I reluctantly let it stand. 
      • She accepted my request this morning. Oh well. I'm not on LinkedIn much these days anyway...  
    • No links for you this time!  (Sorry!)  Maybe next week...

    Thursday, April 8, 2021

    Does pregnancy loss/infertility belong on your resume?

    Here's an interesting question:  does pregnancy loss (&/or infertility, for that matter) belong on a resume?  

    A friend shared a Twitter post on Facebook from a British academic who has included both the birth of her son and her miscarriage/recurrent pregnancy loss on her CV (screenshot, left).  

    "Although one line on a CV cannot speak to the profound physical and emotional trauma of pregnancy loss, I believe it is time to update #academic CVs to be inclusive of women's whole lives," she said. 

    It's worth reading the comments that follow, which are (so far) generally sympathetic and supportive. (Is it a coincidence that the less supportive/more facetious ones come mostly from men??) A few people questioned whether this kind of information belonged under "Publications" -- perhaps a category for "Life Events"?? (I wondered this too!)  

    A sample of comments (but do go read yourself):   
    • "Whenever I look at a CV with gaps, I remind myself that sometimes real life calls, and that that's okay." 
    • "...this really resonated with me - so many years of attempts, losses.. it’s hard to even quantify the physical and emotional toll it takes - and nearly impossible to account for the impact it has had on my career."
    • "Yes please. That was 2 years of my life with invisible reduced opportunity. So much morning sickness, no baby." 
    • "Think of it like this: the institutions and managers that judge you negatively for including this wouldn’t treat you well as a working parent. It’s like a built in bullshit filter."
    • "Maybe employers shouldn't draw any inferences from career gaps, rather than pressure people into disclosing details of their health?  Committees judging whether gaps are adequately explained by physical or mental health disclosures is cringe. Normalize having gaps as being OK."
    • "My first instinct is ‘why should we have to explain ourselves’. But second thoughts are it shows the qualities we possess & experience gained that we bring forward in all aspects of our lives including work. I think I will use this going forward too." 
    There were also some interesting comments on my friend's Facebook post about this.  One commenter liked the idea. She pointed out that academics are under a great deal of pressure to publish continuously, and any gaps must be explained. Someone with no gaps on their resume is generally deemed a better candidate for hiring or promotion than someone who does. (Or, she mused, perhaps we need to change antiquated notions of what makes someone a "better" employee.)  Another commenter pointed out that everyone has significant life events, not just women, and not just related to pregnancy and children. Are we going to start including those too?  

    I'll admit my initial feelings on this subject are mixed. The first line ("Birth of son") gave me pause -- people are actually including the birth of their children on their resumes?? From a childless-not-by-choice perspective, that could be interpreted as more of the pronatalist/mommy-bragging culture that rubs salt in the wounds of so many of us. 

    BUT -- if including the birth of children is going to become a "thing," then most definitely, recurrent pregnancy loss (and infertility treatment) should be included, and not swept under the carpet. There's a whole lot of coping skills and hard-won life experience (that we never asked for) embodied in those few stark words: "recurrent pregnancy loss." 

    I'm not sure I've ever told this story on my blog, but when I was going through "transition services," post-job loss, I had a practice interview session. The woman I "interviewed" with looked through my updated resume, which included 10 years of volunteer group facilitator experience with the pregnancy loss organization that had helped us following Katie's stillbirth. Surprise! (or maybe not) -- she had lost a baby years earlier too, and attended a support group too (different location) -- and we had a nice conversation about our common experience and about the huge impact it had on our lives. 

    It was just a practice interview, so I'll never know if I got the job ;)  but it was nice to make that connection and have that conversation, nevertheless.

    Thoughts?  

    Saturday, October 19, 2019

    "If you don't want to have kids, you don't have to want a career instead"

    Jody Day of Gateway Women recently shared an article from Vice on social media that had me nodding along as I read it:  "If You Don’t Want to Have Kids, You Don’t Have to Want a Career Instead."

    Many people still equate "childless woman" with "career woman" -- if you don't have children, well, you must have a fabulous career instead, right?  You obviously have more time to throw yourself into your job, work long hours and climb the corporate ladder, right?  (Conversely, if you want a high-powered career, are you really going to have the time to devote to a family? -- This either/or thinking was very common years ago, and still persists in some quarters.)

    But what if we don't have children, and don't WANT a high-powered career either?

    A few excerpts from the article:
    Work can be the thing we do in order to enjoy our free time—it doesn’t have to be a lifelong career, and we don’t always need to be pushing to be the boss. Forget having it “all”—why aren’t women allowed to just have “some,” and be happy with it? ...Perhaps we are finally waking up to the idea that we’ve been conned—that in falling into the optimized lifestyle trap, we’re missing out on the life we actually deserve... 
    The biggest barrier women face seems to be the idea that we have inherent worth: that we deserve to be alive, deserve to be happy, even if we are doing “nothing.” [ed note: and even if we don't have children]  [Women's empowerment coach Hueina] Su echoed this idea – saying that If you want to de-optimize your life, it’s critical to believe that you are inherently worthy, and to identify what success and happiness means to you. “We must learn to redefine success for ourselves, instead of letting society and other people dictate how we live our lives,” she said
    I've written in the past here about my lukewarm feelings toward my job/career (even before I lost it, lol).  I worked to live, I did not live to work... but I sometimes felt kind of guilty... that I SHOULD want more our of my working life. Supervisors would ask me the obligatory review questions about where I saw myself in five years and what job I wanted to do next... I had no good answers. I was happy doing what I was doing. I had no great desire to manage people, and while I was happy to stretch myself to a certain extent (trying speechwriting & drafting executive correspondence & official messages, after years working on the staff newsletter, for example), making the leap to an entirely different department or area of the company did not interest me in the least.

    Losing my job -- at a stage in my life where I was able to take early retirement (a reduced pension, but still a pension nevertheless) -- offered me an "out" -- and I took it -- but I still harboured a lot of guilty feelings:  I was way too young to just retire, I still had a lot to offer (if I could convince a potential employer to look past my age...! -- too young to retire, perhaps, but also too old to be hired for another job...). I should be out there working and adding to our retirement savings for at least another 5-10 years (even though a financial planner assured me & dh that we could afford to do this now), because that's what most people my age were still doing. (So far, he's been right, and it's been working out just fine.)

    "What do you do with all that time?" people ask me -- and I feel guilty that I don't have any stories about fabulous trips or meaningful volunteer work or even a full social calendar of luncheons & outings with girlfriends to tell them about. (As one retirement planner pointed out in an article I read, even the fabulously rich will not find themselves travelling 365 days a year... you have to find other ways to fill your time.)  I read, I putter around on this blog & on other social media, I listen to podcasts and watch TV.  Once a week or so, we drop by BIL's house (or they come by here, or we head across the city to visit stepMIL, once every few weeks).  We clean the house and do the laundry and run errands and go to the supermarket and to the mall, and we browse at the local mega-bookstore a couple of times a week. We go out for a simple lunch a couple of times a week, and out for dinner on Saturday nights, a habit we established early on in our marriage.

    So the days pass, and while I can't always tell you where the time has gone, I can tell you it always goes by too quickly -- and that I'm seldom bored, and generally happy with my jobless, childless life. When people ask dh "what do you do with your time, now that you're retired?"  he now responds "Whatever I want!"  lol  That usually shuts them up. I think I'm going to adopt it too, lol.

    I've had a partially written draft in my draft folder for quite a while now along these same lines. It began a couple of years ago when a childless-not-by-choice/loss mom friend (& past/occasional blogger ;)  ) posted an article on Facebook titled "What if All I Want is a Mediocre Life?"  She confessed that she struggled with the guilt of not being more or doing more or wanting more -- with the idea that "I'm enough."

    "Maybe it's the fact that I've been beaten to a bloody pulp by life -- maybe that's why I crave a drama-free, quiet, simple existence," she mused.

    I could certainly relate to that... and I'm sure a lot of childless-not-by-choice women can too. Infertility & loss (and the fallout from them) have already provided us with plenty enough drama to last a lifetime, and then some...!

    The thought that we need to do more, be more, is something that many people struggle with, whether or not they have kids. But the absence of children in our lives makes some of us feel like we need to do something else, something BIG, as "compensation," to fill that hole in our lives, to prove our worth to society.  Why not climb the corporate ladder (or run off to do missionary work in Africa... etc. etc.) -- after all, we can!

    But it's one thing to do something "because we can." Is it something we SHOULD do? Is it something that we WANT to do? Is it something that's right for us personally, for our goals and values?

    And by the way, who says that it's a "mediocre life" -- mediocre by whose standards?

    I would love to hear your thoughts on this subject!

    Here are a couple more great articles on this theme:

    Sunday, August 11, 2019

    "Freedom Day," 5 years later

    (I wrote this post on July 22nd, while I was on vacation... and forgot about it, in my drafts folder. I'm posting it now, because it still says something I wanted to say, albeit belated. Also, it's 33 years ago today that I joined the company! -- = I got let go just short of my 28th anniversary there.)

    Five years ago today, I lost my job.

    It's a blow to the ego (not to mention the pocketbook) to find out you're not wanted anymore, that all your years of loyal service and accumulated institutional knowledge weren't enough. (What STILL irks me is that I rearranged my vacation plans that summer, specifically at my boss's request, and took my holidays earlier in July, instead of later (as usual), because my colleague was heading off on maternity leave in early August "and we're going to need you then." I returned to work on Monday, and lost my job on Tuesday. I am sure the plans for this mass downsizing -- five of us from the same department lost our jobs that day -- were in the works well before I went on vacation.  My pregnant colleague actually gave birth, slightly prematurely, that same day the job cuts came down. She kept her job and is one of the few people from my department who is still there.)

    For a long time afterward, any time that I was downtown and walking through the underground PATH concourse linking all the major office towers, I would take great pains & circuitous routes to avoid walking through the concourse of the building where I'd worked for more than 25 years. I just didn't want to run into anyone I had known, or endure the awkward conversation that would follow (not unlike the days, weeks & months after I returned to work, following Katie's stillbirth).

    These days, I don't bother avoiding my former workplace (although I don't make a point of going there either). I don't worry running into people I know there anymore -- mostly because I realized that so many of them are gone too -- after further rounds of staffing reductions, reorganizations and just plain attrition & retirements over the past five years.

    When she heard my news, my sister -- who had lost HER job some years previously (when the bank she worked for shut down her entire unit and transferred all the jobs to Calgary & Edmonton) -- assured me, "There will come a day when you too will celebrate ______bank Freedom Day."

    That day has come. ;)

    I miss (some of) the people I worked with. I miss being downtown, sometimes. (And yes, I'm still somewhat pissed off, sometimes.)  But I don't miss the stress of work, or working, or commuting. And while childlessness is not something I actively chose, early retirement would likely not have been possible, had we had children we were still feeding, clothing and educating.

    These past five years of early retirement have gone by quickly. There have been a lot of changes in my life since then. I'm fast approaching (BIG GULP) 60.  We haven't travelled as much as I'd hoped we would (yet?!). 

    But so far, so good. :)

    Wednesday, June 12, 2019

    Someone else's survival guide :)

    A Facebook find. :)
    What I've been trying to do here on this blog for the past 11+ years. :) 

    Thursday, September 7, 2017

    Expand, contract

    (I started this post two years ago (!), after I lost my job in July 2014 but before we sold our house & moved into a condo in April 2016. I recently found it in my drafts folder, updated/reworded and expanded on the theme before hitting "publish" now. ) 

    Noemi had a interesting post a while back about "Restriction vs intention" -- what she can't do versus what she is trying to do.

    This struck a chord with me and made me think about my own life. In some ways, I feel like my life has been shrinking, becoming more restricted, over the few years:
    • I lost my job = my income has shrunk (and so, hence, has my spending).  
    • My social circle (never very big to begin with) has shrunk. I can go for days without carrying on a meaningful, non-transactional conversation with another adult besides dh (most store clerks don't count). I have lost touch with almost all the people I used to interact with during the work day. I've stayed in touch with a few of my former coworkers through social media, but rarely see or socialize with any of them. We used to live closer to one retired coworker and she & I would get together now & then, but since the move she's a lot further away. Another friend I occasionally socialize with will be moving to another province soon. BIL & SIL and several of dh's cousins live close by, but most of them still work during the day, and are otherwise busy with kids & their activities, aging parents to look in on, etc. 
    • I downsized my possessions, even my precious book collection!! (maybe not enough, but still by a significant amount, lol), sold our house (which, at about 1200 square feet, wasn't huge to begin with) and moved into an 874-square-foot condo.  
    • I lost access to the great public transit we enjoyed (well, better than what we have here at the moment...!) -- & with it, my sense of mobility and freedom (particularly since I do not drive). There's road construction going on around our condo building at the moment that makes it difficult just to get out of our building's driveway, nevermind actually drive anywhere...!  
    • I'm losing people that I knew (and who knew me) during my growing-up years -- relatives, friends of my parents (including one just last week). I'm also obliged to attend funerals/visitations for people I don't necessarily know, or know well (but it's still a funeral, right? ...!) -- friends of dh's family, cousins' inlaws, etc. (I was reorganizing the paper in the slots on my desk recently and was startled by how many funeral cards I've accumulated in the past several months...!)  
    • Even the musicians who scored the soundtrack of my youth have been dropping like flies lately, it seems:  Glenn Frey of the Eagles, David Bowie, Prince, Kenny Shields of Streetheart, Skip Prokop of Lighthouse, to name just a few.  
    I know that this happens to most of us as we age -- we retire, move into smaller homes or even seniors' residences, eventually give up our drivers' licenses and our annual trips to Florida (out-of-country travel insurance skyrockets once you're past 75), friends start to pass away... but for most people, that doesn't start happening until their 60s or 70s, at the earliest.  At this point in my life (mid-50s), most of my peers still have lives that are busy and full.  They have jobs, houses (some have cottages too, or houses or condos in Florida), children, grandchildren (or the prospect thereof), and friends & social activities that they've become involved with (some through their children). I've heard about some retirees who are actually buying LARGER homes, to accommodate their visiting children & grandchildren (or those adult children who are still living at home because of the tight job market & lack of affordable housing options).

    I’ve been trying to “reframe” things in my mind -- focus less on what I might be losing vs what I'm gaining.  Example: I lost my job -- and with it, some of my income, my old daily routines & social interactions -- but also a LOT of stress -- and I've gained more time and freedom to do other things. I lost square footage, possessions and familiar surroundings when we downsized into our condo -- but I gained the opportunity for more travel & other experiences, closer proximity to our extended family, including our nephews (and maybe, in the future, some great-nephews & nieces??).  We lost many of the headaches that go hand in hand with home ownership -- lawns to mow, weeds to pull, sidewalks to shovel after snowstorms... And I gained a MUCH happier husband (which is definitely worth a lot!).  :)

    But it's hard. It's hard to let go of the old familiar life & stuff.

    Don't get me wrong. My "new" life is a good one, overall. Like my old life, it has its advantages, and its painful moments. But sometimes it's hard to stay focused on the positive, and not dwell on what you've lost or what you miss.

    Do you feel like your life is expanding? Contracting? In neutral gear??

    Tuesday, January 12, 2016

    Freedom 55

    Another year, another birthday. :)  This is kind of a big one -- not generally considered a milestone -- at least, not these days -- but still, it's one that divisible by 5, and clearly an indicator that time is passing. 

    When I was a teenager/young adult, 55 wasn't necessarily OLD -- but the message was that if you were lucky -- if you worked hard and did the right things -- you could retire, early, and enjoy life while you were still relatively young and able to do so. In the 1980s, there was a hugely successful ad campaign for a Canadian life insurance company, built around the concept of "Freedom 55" -- which I wrote about in a post a couple of years ago when dh celebrated HIS 55th birthday. "Freedom 55" became both a well-recognized catchphrase and a seemingly reachable goal for Canadians of my generation to work towards.

    Back then, many companies allowed employees to retire early on a full, unreduced pension at 55 (not my own company, unfortunately -- retirement at 55 is an option, but with a reduced pension).  Many companies also offered seniors discounts and other perqs to customers once they hit 55. 

    These days, however, the perqs have been pulled back to 60 & 65-year-olds, and it seems that defined benefit pension plans are going the way of the dodo bird. Fewer of my peers expect to retire at 55, instead making rueful jokes about "Freedom 70." I realize that dh & I are an increasing rarity -- and, yes, extremely lucky. 

    That said... 

    Upon hearing that we're both essentially retired, a lot of people comment to dh & me that, "wow, you're living the dream."  Well, yeah, maybe -- but to get to this point, we had to "live the nightmare" first -- infertility, stillbirth, job loss.  Dh & I were hoping to retire around the time I hit 55 anyway, but we didn't get to make that decision;  it was made for us (first for dh & then for me), a bit earlier than we had planned. 

    We feel very fortunate that things have worked out as well as they have to this point -- but I wonder whether people would want to trade places with us if they realized what it took to get here. As Janis Joplin once sang, "Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose..." I suspect there are going to be further changes and life transitions ahead for us in the next couple of years too.  (Hopefully some positive ones, along with the ones we didn't expect or plan for.) 

    But hey -- it's my birthday. :)  And however I got here, I'm 55, and, yes, I have a certain amount of freedom in my life these days that I didn't five, 10, 15 years ago. And that's something worth celebrating. :) 

    Friday, October 2, 2015

    Retirement guilt

    I had lunch this week with several of my former coworkers. All of them lost their jobs the same day as me (14+ months ago now)(!), or in a subsequent round of cuts that's taken place since then.

    All of them were long-serving (10-25+ years) employees in their late 40s/50s. All of them are well-educated, highly qualified, hard-working people. Most of them have families & mortgages. They want to get back to work. They NEED to get back to work.  

    It's been 14 months. None of them have found jobs yet.

    Much of the conversation revolved around job search stories & tips. (The consensus was that employers are being extremely picky, searching for the elusive perfect candidate who ticks all the boxes on their wish list -- not just some, or most. Nobody gives you the courtesy of letting you know that you didn't get the job, or providing a shred of feedback on why. Automated systems and HR suck;  networking is critical to getting your resume in front of an actual human being who has power over hiring decisions. And yes, maybe there's some ageism at work, too.)

    Since I'm not looking for a job (& probably won't be anytime soon), I stayed mostly silent. Once again, I felt guilty that I've managed to get off relatively scot-free, compared to my peers. (And worry that I haven't made the right decisions, and will wind up being a bag lady & eating cat food when I'm 85.)  What makes me so special, right?

    And then I remember: Oh yeah. The reason I can do this is because my daughter died before she was born (and I was never able to have another baby), and we were able to sock away the money we would have spent on our family towards the goal of an early retirement. Even when that retirement happened a little earlier than we'd planned, we'd done enough of the right things that we'll be OK.

    But I'd still rather be looking for work, if I could have my daughter here.

    Think anyone would want to trade places with me, if they knew all the details? :p

    Thursday, August 28, 2014

    Month One

    It's been just a little over one month since I lost my job (on July 22nd) and had early retirement unexpectedly thrust upon me at age 53. 

    Time has flown. As a couple of my now-retired coworkers told me, you think you're going to get all this stuff done, and...!

    When I went to bed that first night after getting my walking papers, I can remember thinking, "At least I can sleep in now!! No more 4:45 alarm clock!"  Naturally, my eyes flew open at 3 a.m., and I tossed & turned for the next few hours before finally getting up at 6:30 (!). Maddeningly, on most days over the next few weeks, I would wake up just before or just after my alarm clock would have gone off at 4:45 a.m... and then toss & turn, trying to go back to sleep again for a few more hours. I might still wake up early to answer nature's call ;)  but thankfully, I'm getting better at falling back asleep again ;) and then waking up at a much more sane hour of 7:30 or 8 a.m.  

    Once or twice a week, though, I've been getting up at around 6-6:30 and heading into the city.  I have use of a "transition consultant" for the next while and, although I have no desire or plans to re-enter the working world immediately (if ever -- perhaps something part time or a few freelancing jobs, eventually...?), I've decided I might as well take full advantage of their services. It's been a long, LONG time since I dusted off my resume, applied for a job or been on a job interview. And it's a completely different world out there since the last time I did any of those things. (LinkedIn? What's that?) 

    Getting an updated resume together was one thing;  interview prep (which is what I'm doing right now) is quite another. I'm finding it nerve wracking and stressful, even if it is just practice. I think dh thinks I'm nuts for putting myself through this when I don't really have to. But I know it's for my own good. Maybe it's my inner bag lady talking, but I feel better knowing that, if or when I ever need or want to return to work, I will be better prepared than I was before I lost my job. 

    I ran into one of my former colleagues there this week. He and some of the others who also lost their jobs that day have been taking some time off before starting their job searches. Even though he is close to me in age, he has a young daughter to support;  he needs to keep working.

    I wondered if maybe I should have taken a break too. But I only have use of the consultant's services for a finite amount of time, and it's only one or two mornings a week. I don't have to do any more than I really want to -- they are working for me, not the other way around. And once I polish up my interviewing & networking skills, and set up my LinkedIn profile, I think I will feel better about slacking off more and taking things easier.  

    For the past 28 years -- 28 years!! -- my life each fall through Christmas has revolved around -- and been restricted by -- year-end reporting and related activities. I thought I'd get a reprieve in 1998 because my long-awaited baby was due in November;  she was stillborn in August, and I had to return to work in October -- and I bitterly resented it.  I found I was usually too busy during the week and too exhausted on weekends to do so many of the things I wanted to do -- take a trip to enjoy the fall colours, mourn my little girl properly on her November due date (if that's how I was feeling), have a leisurely pre-holiday lunch with friends, attend a Christmas craft show, check out the European-style Christmas market in the downtown Distillery District. I fully intend to do all those things and more this year.

    On the mornings that I'm not heading into the city, dh & I linger over our tea/coffee and morning papers, then (if the weather permits) head out for a walk.  Getting into better shape and staying healthy as we age is definitely one of my post-work goals. (I have not lost any weight -- yet!! lol -- but I feel SO much less stressed. The maddening twitch in my eye has disappeared;  my heartburn is much less frequent, and I haven't checked but I am thinking my blood pressure has probably improved.)  Dh goes to see his dad one afternoon a week and, depending on the weather, might return another day to mow his lawn. Another day is spent cleaning the house and doing laundry, and I've started tackling some of the piles of clutter that seemed to have become permanent fixtures in the spare bedrooms. Tuesdays, we trek over to the local farmers' market & come home with fresh produce to enjoy, especially berries. :)  Other days, we might head over to the local mall to shop or just to get out of the house. A former coworker who lives in the area treated me to afternoon tea, with little sandwiches and scones and other treats.  Dh & I are already planning some day trips to enjoy the fall colours, once they arrive, and maybe a slightly longer getaway, further afield.

    This is what we've been working and saving for all these years. This is the goal we set for ourselves, once it became evident that we were not going to be parents. It came a little earlier than we both expected, and not quite the way either of us had imagined -- but now that it's here, we intend to enjoy it.

    Life is good. :) 

    Monday, August 18, 2014

    This sounds familiar... (part 2)

    (Continued from yesterday's Part 1...)

    After hearing a little Kubler-Ross and discussing the SCARF model, our facilitator offered some tips for dealing with transitions -- in this case, moving forward after job loss, but also applicable in many cases (I thought) to surviving pregnancy loss, infertility and the decision to remain childless/free: 

    1)  Accept that bad things can happen. Develop resilience.  Become an expert on your situation.    (For most of us who have lost a pregnancy, dealt with infertility or childlessness, this has probably meant devouring books, blogs and other information to help us deal with our new reality.)  Wallowing in our grief may have a certain appeal at first, but after a while, we need to start focusing on what our next steps could be. We may not have chosen what happened to us, but we can choose how we respond.

    2)  "Preventative medicine."  Avoid negative individuals who might push you to play the role of victim ("poor you"). Some people need to confirm to themselves "so glad it's you and not me" and don't really bring anything of value to the relationship.  Also avoid situations you don't like and that you know will make you feel unhappy (e.g., baby showers!). 

    3)  "Healthy schizophrenia."  Try to detach or distance yourself from the situation. (This is admittedly hard to do when you've just lost a baby.)  In the case of job loss, try to avoid thinking of your former company as "we" and "us."  Become a reporter and try to view the situation objectively.  What should a person in this situation do? What would you advise a friend in a similar situation to do?

    4)  Change the meaning of what is happening;  try to look on the bright side. (Again, perhaps not really applicable when you've just lost a baby.)  This is not always easy to do.  Your brain needs time to think and process what's happened. We can't work full tilt 24 hours a day;  we'll burn out. We need rest, we need sleep, we need to take vacations, we need to take breaks and do something different. That's often when the best ideas pop into our heads. Now is the time (we, who had lost our jobs, were told) to do some of the things you wanted to do when you were working -- and that you won't have time to do when you start working again).

    In the same vein, taking a break from fertility treatment can bring a fresh perspective and new energy to whatever you decide to do next.  If you decide to continue to live without children, look at it as an opportunity to do some of the things you didn't have time or money to pursue when you were in treatment -- and wouldn't be able (or might find harder) to do if you had children.

    5)  Focus on your strengths.  What are you good at doing? What do you enjoy doing?  Write them down. (In handwriting, not on the computer -- handwriting helps us absorb messages better than typing them into a computer.) 

    6)  Create an identity map.  In the centre of a bulletin board or a big sheet of poster board, place your favourite photo of yourself.  Around it, place photos or magazine pictures or other visual reminders (e.g., restaurant menus, theatre tickets) of the people and things you love and enjoy:  family, friends, hobbies, celebrations, travel, music, art, sports, achievements. Jobs. 

    This reminded me of a collage exercise we used to do in our perinatal bereavement support group:  we'd bring in stacks of old magazines & give everyone half an hour to go through them and rip out any images & words that reminded them of their baby(s), of what had happened, and how they were feeling now. Then we'd hand out sheets of poster paper and glue sticks, and after another half hour or so, we'd all share what we had created and talk about what the words & images meant to us.

    This was always a powerful exercise and it was amazing to see what people would come up with.  Along with photos of babies, pregnant women and moms with kids, I remember one mother had the image of a knotted in a length of rope at the centre of her collage, another had a picture of a big bolt of lightning cutting across a dark, threatening sky.  I did the collage exercise along with the group every time it came up in the topic rotation, and I still have every one I made. It was interesting to see how my collages evolved and changed as time went on.

    7)  Energy balance exercise.  What people, places and activities in your life are sources of energy for you? Which ones are energy suckers? (Try to avoid those.)  Which are a mixture?

    8)  Apply the Stockdale Paradox.  We heard the story of James Stockdale, who spent eight years as a prisoner of war in Vietnam in the 1960s, where he was brutally mistreated. Said Stockdale later of the experience:  "You must never confuse faith that you will prevail in the end -- which you can never afford to lose -- with the discipline to confront the most brutal facts of your current reality, whatever they might be." 

    In the context of infertility & childlessness, to me, "faith that you will prevail in the end" doesn't necessarily mean that "you will have a baby, somehow, some way." This is where "the discipline to confront the most brutal facts of your current reality" comes in. I suppose dh & I could have scraped together more money and more energy to continue with infertility treatment, or try donor eggs or adopt, etc. But the reality, our reality at the time, was that we were completely burned out. The reality was, we were in our 40s, with medical issues that made the likelihood of a successful pregnancy highly unlikely. The odds were not in our favour.  

    It was hard to face the brutal truth that we were not going to be parents (to a living child). But we had faith that we could still have a good life anyway as a family of two.  And I think we've been able to do that.

    It's not a perfect life, it's certainly not the life we imagined when we got married, almost 30 years ago. But it's the life we have, and on balance, it's not a bad one.  And we're doing our best to make the most of it.

    Sunday, August 17, 2014

    This sounds familiar... (part 1)

    This past week, I spent an afternoon at a seminar on neuroscience -- how the brain works -- and life transitions, and how we can use this knowledge to help us adjust faster to our new reality. 

    The life transition in question for most of us present, of course, was the sudden loss of our jobs -- but having previously been through pregnancy loss, infertility and the transition to permanent childless/free living, there was a lot that sounded VERY familiar & applicable. I thought I'd do a Coles notes version (Cliffs notes, for you in the States, lol)(in two parts, since this was starting to get lengthy): 

    After walking through a slide on Elizabeth Kubler-Ross & the stages of grief (of course!) we talked about the SCARF model of how people interact -- including five areas that affect our behaviour during a life transition:

    Status: Our "rank" or position in relation to others -- how important am I?  This area is influenced by things like title & salary;  comments, criticism or recognition, being included or excluded (or feeling that way).  Obviously, when you lose your job, your feeling of importance to others, to the team you worked with, takes a real beating.

    Now -- for those of us who have lost pregnancies -- think back to when you were pregnant -- and then when you suddenly were not. I think most of us realize that pregnant women hold a particularly hallowed place in our society at the moment -- pregnant celebrities & their new babies dominate magazine covers, every other commercial on television seems to feature a pregnant woman or new baby -- and if you (and your extended family) have been waiting to become pregnant for a long time (as I did), your pregnancy becomes extra-special.  For those of us who dealt with infertility before seeing those two lines on the pee stick, pregnancy was not just special -- it was something we'd been craving -- not just a baby, but NORMALCY. We'd finally been admitted to the club that everyone else seemed to join so easily, that had been barred to us for so long.

    And then (as my support group facilitator so aptly put it), we "got kicked out of the club."  :p 

    And if it hurts to be admitted briefly to the club that most women join without a second thought, and then rejected, think of how it feels for women without children (for whatever reason), who never even managed to get a foot in the door. 

    Certainty:  Most of us crave a certain degree of certainty or security. When things are certain or predictable, it's easier to plan for the future and control what happens to us (or so we think).  When things change, when we lose our jobs, the future suddenly becomes uncertain.  We've suddenly lost control of our careers, of our future. 

    In one sense, having a baby is the ultimate loss of control.  ;)  But in another sense, when you have a baby, you know there is a certain template your life is about to follow -- a measure of -- certainty -- that the path you're following has been trod by many other parents. BILLIONS of parents.  This is how life is meant to unfold, we think. There is a certain rhythm & predictability to family life for most people. Breast or bottlefeeding is followed by solids;  crawling becomes walking and then running and riding a bike (and then driving a car).  Daycare turns into nursery school, then kindergarten. September means back to school, October means Halloween costumes and trick or treating. Etc. etc. etc.

    Losing a pregnancy forever destroys any sense of control that you might have had.  And realizing that a baby is not going to be a part of your life -- ever -- destroys the life plan most of us have had since we were children, and blurs our image of what the future should look like. We suddenly realize that our lives are never going to resemble those of many of the people around us. We have to figure out what our lives are going to look like now, if we're not going to be parents. We have to rethink -- sometimes dramatically -- our life plans.

    Autonomy:  Autonomy reflects the need to have control over our lives and our choices. When we lose our jobs, we lose control and the choice of if/when we want to leave our workplace is taken from us. 

    On the other hand, with the future wide open ahead of us, we may suddenly find ourselves faced with too many choices:  I can do anything with my life now!  What should I do??  This is also the dilemma facing those of us who find ourselves facing a childless/free future. If we're not going to be moms, what are we going to do with our lives?

    The prospect can be exhilarating. It can also be terrifying.

    Relatedness:  "Relatedness" refers to the need to belong to a group and receive their support. When we lose our jobs, we're suddenly cut off from the people we've been working with every day, in some cases for years. We were part of a team -- and now we're not. Now, there are insiders and outsiders.

    As I mentioned earlier, getting pregnant means admission to the Mommy Club. Everyone is anxious to rub your belly and give you tips and tell you their birth story and throw you baby showers and pass down their baby clothes and paraphernalia. They want to know what you're going to name him/her, breast or bottle, cloth or disposable, and if you're going to take the full year of mat leave.

    Losing a pregnancy means getting kicked out of the club. Suddenly, nobody is anxious to talk to you. Nobody has tips to offer on how to organize the baby's funeral or what you should put on the cemetery marker.  Some will call -- once -- or send a card or bring over a casserole, but very few will offer to sit at the kitchen table while you cry & hold your hand, or ask to hear your delivery story. (Hang onto those people!)

    Being childless means you'll never be part of the club, period. But people will still ask you when you're going to join, because having kids is one of the easiest, no-brainer ways to relate to other people, and when you don't have that common link between you... well... sometimes they just can't relate, can't fathom what your life must be like, can't think of anything else that you might have in common to talk about (try: the weather, sports, your latest vacation, your aging parents' health, work, the latest movie or Downton Abbey....). 

    It's hard not to feel like an outsider sometimes.

    Fairness:  We all have a powerful need to feel that we are being treated fairly.

    Losing our job for no good reason offends our sense of fairness and justice. 

    Losing a baby REALLY offends our sense of fairness and justice.  :( 

    Being involuntarily childless while other parents complain about their kids -- or worse, mistreat or neglect them -- also makes the universe seem unfair and unjust.

    Coming next:  transition tips.  

    Sunday, July 27, 2014

    Adjusting to a new reality

    Thank you all so much for your comments on my recent post about being laid off from my job. I am OK (for the most part). Dh, for his part, is thrilled to have me home with him a full 18 months sooner than we had been planning.

    To be honest, it's been such a busy week, I haven't had a lot of time to dwell on what happened (except maybe when I'm awake at 3 a.m. and can't go back to sleep)(although it was certainly the main topic of conversation wherever I went). I was let go on Tuesday, had lunch with a visiting relative on Wednesday (instead of an evening or weekend visit -- because I could...!!), lunch on Thursday with a couple of former colleagues I've stayed in touch with (organized before all this happened), and cleaned house & did laundry on Friday, followed by dinner out with friends. Perhaps it's just as well that I've stayed busy.

    Which is not to say I haven't been thinking about what happened, or found myself  struggling to fully comprehend the new reality I find myself thrust into. You don't realize how much of your life revolves around work, and the routines you've put in place related to that -- until suddenly, work isn't there anymore. (I remember wondering about the 9-11 survivors -- some of them had worked in those towers for years, & suddenly, their workplace, their daily routine, many of their coworkers and in some cases their jobs were just... gone... and in a very traumatic way.) 

    When you're working, you tend to cram in a lot of activity on the weekend, because you either don't have time or are too tired on weeknights.  For years, our Saturday routine has included cleaning & laundry, shopping for groceries for the coming week, a visit to the cemetery, dinner out, and a browse at the bookstore.  But because I was out a lot this week, we decided we'd eat at home this Saturday. As we did, dh pointed out that we didn't HAVE to do any of the usual things on Saturday anymore. We could do laundry on Monday, or go out for dinner on Tuesday, or visit Katie or the bookstore anytime we like -- because we have the time now. A novel concept!

    I think about the people I'm not going to see anymore every day -- and not just the people I worked with. I think about the father & son who run the newsstand downstairs, where I buy magazines and breathmints -- the husband & wife team who run the lottery kiosk near the subway entrance -- the baristas at the coffee shops I frequent, who know my order and often have it ready to hand to me by the time I reach the cash register -- the girls at the salon where I've been getting manicures, pedicures and waxing done for almost 20 years (argh, now I have to find a new nail place closer to home...).  Will they notice my absence? Will they wonder where I've gone?  Even if/when I do go back downtown (and in fact I am going tomorrow), it will probably be awhile before I want to go back to the tower where I worked. Too many people I know that I might run into;  too many awkward explanations about what happened. (Hmmm, why does this sound familiar...??)

    I flip through my datebook & see the weekly meetings I dutifully recorded there -- which I will never attend -- and, one by one, cross them out. I find myself idly thinking that I must remember to head up to the Hallmark store at the Eaton Centre on my lunch hour sometime this week to buy a birthday card for our nephew -- and then I remember that I don't have a job to go to and won't be going into the city then. (Well, I could, if I wanted to, but I can just easily find him a card somewhere around here.)  ;) 

    It's not a HUGE deal (at least it hasn't been, yet), not a lot of angst -- but it's a weird feeling nevertheless.

    Wednesday, July 23, 2014

    Deja vu :p

    I lost my job this week. :p  I got back from vacation on Monday & was handed my pink slip early Tuesday morning.  I do not yet know all the details of the long-rumoured reorganization, but I do know that (sadly) I was not alone. At least three other coworkers, two of them also long-term employees in their 50s, were also let go. :( 

    As you can probably tell from some of my recent work-related posts, this was not entirely unexpected -- but it still sucks to have my career end this way after 28 years of loyal service & (until just recently, anyway) completely satisfactory performance. But it is also a relief that my work-related stress is at an end.  I am glad I'm not one of the ones who has to stick around and pick up the pieces. Been there, done that, bought the T-shirt. :p 

    As I sat there in the conference room, I had this weird sense of deja vu. I hate to compare losing a job to losing a baby -- but they both do involve a certain measure of loss & grief.  Thinking "is this really happening to me??"... not entirely taking in everything that someone is trying to tell you... trying to sneak out of the building without seeing or being seen by anyone you know... then sitting on an almost-empty homebound train, staring out the window... and now finding myself unexpectedly off for the rest of the summer.... hmmmm. Almost the exact same time of year too. It will be 16 years on August 7th.

    At any rate -- if I survived that terrible day 16 years ago, I can most certainly survive this.