Lost and Found

 

I lost my job in 2011.

I was two years into my career as an Assistant Account Manager at a global ad agency, representing what is easily the world’s most iconic brand. I was able to visit the sleek, modern office on Michigan Avenue; but, for the most part, I worked from home (aka wherever I wanted) and traveled. I was great at my job and I loved it. Weekly, a performance tracker was shared with those in my position across the country and every single week my name was at the top. I liked it that way and made sure it stayed that way. I was so strong that once executives for that big beverage brand joked they wanted to “clone” me.

But, it was also those big executives that found they didn’t have the funding anymore and cut the national marking program I was a part of.

It was announced to the eighty eight young people who shared my position across the country on a conference call in early May. There was no warning and no fanfare. Just straight and to the point. It was just three weeks before my wedding and 48 hours after moving to a small, rural town with Adam, where I was banking on growing my great career while working from home.

I lost my job.

… And, I was unemployed for six months.

It was hard, awful, challenging, boring, embarrassing… and also, the best thing that ever happened to me.

In my early twenties, I thought a job was my value and defined who I was. For sixteen years, everything I did had been for the purpose of “landing a great job.”

I had followed the rules, studied, been good- and even great- and it worked. It scored me a great job. (In 2009, to boot.) Two years in as the team’s “rockstar,” I was on the track to a great career. I had done it right and well.

I was great because my job was great. I was cool because my job was cool. I was smart because my job was with one of the most successful companies ever. And, I was the best because I was the best at my great, cool, smart job.

And, as soon as the conference call ended, it was clear that it wasn’t just a job that was ripped out from under me; everything I knew about myself was gone too.

With all of my identity in my job, I was lost. I didn’t know how to feel good about myself unless I was succeeding at work. I was embarrassed and didn’t want anyone to know I didn’t have a job. I presented myself to the world as smart, cool and great thanks to that job, after all. What was I without it? Who was I?

I also didn’t know how to fill my time because work was all I knew. I had been so good at the job because I had given it everything, including after hours attention.

Luckily, I had the distraction of the wedding, but after it was over and the dust settled, my days were wide open. Boring. And, lonely. (And, did I mention I was also now in a remote, rural town that was new to me with zero friends besides my new husband?)

So, for a while, I slept in, staying in bed until 9AM, which after a few days became 10 AM and then 11 AM. I, of course, applied for jobs and then sat around the rest of the day watching reality TV reruns. I didn’t change my clothes for days, let alone shower. I scrolled Twitter and Facebook often. And, spent a good amount of time feeling bad for myself.

But, it didn’t take long for me to recognize I could not live like this.

I could not be this person who didn’t do anything all day. Who didn’t talk or think. Who was bitter when my own friends shared their most recent excitement with me. Who got mad at my husband when he wanted to spend some time golfing or with his friends instead of poor, lonely me.

After taking it out on Adam-again- one month into marriage (So much for newlywed bliss…), I knew I had to do something to make this better. I didn’t want to be the sad, lazy, mean person I was becoming. My exact thought was: “I am too creative for this.”

So, I got creative and got to work.

But, really, the work didn’t look like “work.” I didn’t set out on a project or new business venture. I didn’t make a To Do list. I didn’t produce tangible results.

In that time unemployed, I didn’t start a blog. That would take another two years.

Instead, I read blogs. I learned that normal people write them which seemed revolutionary. I thought about what I liked about some blogs and what I didn’t like about others. I wondered if I could write a blog and wrote down many ideas for the blog that maybe I could create.

I didn’t launch a business. That would take another five years.

Instead, I learned about entrepreneurship and what it really means. I read books and blogs about business. I learned about good financial practices. I didn’t even really believe starting a business as something I might actually do, but I did take the time to brainstorm and dream a little.

I didn’t write a book. That would take another eight years.

Instead, I got in the habit of writing. Jotting thoughts in journals, outlining ideas and starting a handful of word document essays that no one ever saw.

I didn’t train for a marathon. That would take another nine years.

Instead, I shook up my normal routine and tried new workouts to make it fun and new again. It didn’t matter what it was and it was rarely the same thing twice. I resurrected old workout DVDs, took a free ballet class, tried crossfit, yoga and even the occasional meditation.

And though really tempting, I didn’t go back to school in order to fill my days. And, that will likely never happen.

Because in that slower time, without the tasks required of me in a job, I learned that I can learn so much on my own… for free.

I went to the library. I watched YouTube and played on Pinterest. I tried a lot of things. I cooked, painted, danced, gardened, played the piano, baked, sewed, drew, and more. I read and I wrote just for me. Not for a grade, a job, a dollar or a purpose other than solely for me.

Without my armor of To-Do Lists and Performance Tracker standing, I also got to know me. Who was I beyond a business card?

I had time to think about my values, passions and beliefs. (Even just considering taking unemployment brought these questions to life.) I learned about my enneagram number. (In 2011…! Far before it hit today’s rage.)

I worked out awkward, great, and defining moments of my childhood and young career through words in journals and thoughts while running or cooking or just sitting still.

I asked myself things like:

“What do I love?”

“What am I great at?”

“Why do I do some of the things I do?”

“What do I want my life to look like?”

“What do I want to be proud of when I am 75?”

And, sometimes I just sat and felt bad for a little while.

I wrote lists of what I would buy when I had a job. I once even wondered if I would ever work again. As time went on, those moments happened less, replaced with finding more in my days and an awareness that I was not just good and smart and full of cool interests; but, also resilient, creative and had a whole lot to be thankful for.

All this work built up a strong understanding of myself and true foundation in gratitude that was such a gift to receive.

A gift. Losing my job.

A gift. Even though in the beginning, it was awful.

This one experience gave me confidence to do all the things I have done in the last decade. I couldn’t have done them without that season.

But, I also could not have done them in that season. That time was hard, even when it seemed to be getting better. That work, even though it didn’t look like work, was tiring. So was always wrestling with the reality that I really did not have a job and shushing voices in my head that wanted to come out and say, “Unemployed. Loser.”

That time was for clearing weeds, building soil, and planting seeds. The work that doesn’t look like anything. Nothing sprouting and growing tall and no harvesting.

Eventually, those seeds became the blog, the writing, the business… and also the move in 2018 from a job that had me slipping back into someone who only found worth and purpose in her performance. Who was nothing but her job.

In that season of slipping, my job was threatened by a demanding, unreasonable, plain old rude client. And, in what she thought would have me scrambling to oblige her every request out of fear of getting fired, I was able to find roots in the awareness, confidence and gratitude I gained years before and remembered what was important… to me.

I remembered who I was, what I value and who I wanted to be. Not what I “do.”

Simply and honestly, I responded to the cruel woman with a: “Well, the good news is that losing my job is really not the worst thing that could happen to me.”

It’s not. Losing yourself is.

 

A note: When I lost my job, from a logistics perspective, I was so fortunate. Stakes were low. We didn’t have kids and Adam had a great job. We both had small savings accounts and we also had the windfall of generous wedding gifts.

Things were leaner and I had to be smart, but I can’t- and won’t- speak on true financial hardship after job loss.

If you happen to find yourself facing a job loss, furlough or change in income this week or the ones to come, I am so sorry. I get that you might feel that the things I found “hard” in job loss would be “nice” to have to worry about. I get that you can’t even consider putting energy towards anything besides figuring out how to pay bills.

Please take advantage of the programs available to you. Among many of the things I found when unemployed, a newfound grace and empathy granted me to see Unemployment Insurance as just that… Insurance. You paid your premium for years. It was taken every paycheck since your first job. This is your car wreck. Take your claim if it is going to help you.