Step 7: Breathe.

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I was interrupted.

Yes.

Interrupted.

But for once…it was by my own decision.

For those of you who have followed me here, welcome! I have soooo much to say now.

To begin with…

My world has been rocked.

Immensely.
When I, ever so dramatically, blogged elsewhere back in the beginning of June about…and I quote,

“Think of the worse, most obscene word you can imagine.

Now go into a dark room and close the door.

Scream that word 85 hundred times.

That is half of what I feel right now.

When it rains it pours and my umbrella is giving way.

I just wish that light at the end of the tunnel wasn’t a train heading straight for me.

I had just learned that I was about to be fired.

Yes.

Fired.

OR…. as the corporate world politely calls it, “Let Go“

I cross it out because it is horse shit.

I digress…

When I entered college, I decided to set a time line for myself…

1.) Get Job after degree

2.) Break the glass ceiling set for self and rise to the top

3.) Situate

4.) Find love

5.) Marry love

6.) Have offspring

7.) Breathe

….well…those of you who know me, know that I did it like this instead….

1.) work. preggers. degree.baby.married.job.job.job.job.divorce.job.job.panic.job.job.job

see…no breathing. No step 2.

Not good.

So…on June 10th, when I found out that the past three years that I had worked, sacrificed, sweat, screamed and succumbed, were going to be as beneficial as my perm back in ‘87…I was livid.

See…I work in advertising. My mom has quoted it back to me as a “thank-less” job.

I find it “thank-ful” with self-stimulating rewards.

However, I was in charge of the largest account at my agency.

Said account fired the agency.

Said agency fired self.

Point blank.

This single mom was swept out on stoop with magnificent hair, briefcase in hand and mouth agape.

It was awful.

It still is.

Stinging does not subside easily people.

I put my tail between my legs, grabbed my lovely offspring and we ventured back to my hometown for a week. I naively told myself in two, I will have multiple job offers and an endless line of interviews set up. Screw the economy. * flips hair and laughs*

I took a week to meet with old friends, laugh over drinks, relax pool-side, cry in the corner, catch up on gossip blogs, paint my nails and dodge divorce rumors to un-suspecting relatives.

It worked and I came back home to be slapped in the face with two things:

1.) Relentlessness and Unforgiving Humidity…However no different than in New Orleans.

2.) Total, unrequited, incomprehensible fear.

I had one interview lined up.

ONE.

If you are missing both hands and haven’t passed pre-kindergarten, it’s less than two and more than “who gives a shit”

I went on the interview and fell in love.

With opportunity.

I didn’t get it. And it was good that I didn’t.

The job was too far away and I wouldn’t have been happy there.

Since then, I’ve kept my resumé on me at all times. I hand it out everywhere, the grocery store, church, Offspring’s school, beach, gas stations…

Seriously, if you have a free hand and are in the South Florida region, you’ve gotten my resumé at some point. It was given to you by a young woman, with great shoes, amazing hair and a smile that will beat you over the head…

that’s me.

When I left New Orleans, my dad handed me something that I quickly slid into my purse and prayed that it was vicodin, or something just as satisfying…( I kid children’s services officials…all in fun) When I sat down at my terminal, I let the offspring run free to look up women’s skirts, harass Federal officials or simply lick germy places and I dug in my purse to find my reward…

It was a prayer card.

I smiled.

My dad is horrified of flying.

Think of waking up in a cold sweat one night and finding  Tara Reid, Tori Smelling and Denise Richards at the foot of your bed and asking you to play a game of Jenga with your teeth, but only after they have removed them with their bare hands and no anesthesia.

That kind of scared.

He often flies with a mound of prayer cards. So I assumed this was one of his many.

I winked at Jesus on the front, and turned it over to read the back. It was a prayer “For economic hardship”

Being a single mom with no income…I immediately thought to scan it, copy it and forge a fake “jesus” autograph and sell it on Ebay. But then I heard thunder on a perfectly sunny day and I decided not to tempt the powers that be.

I have not forsaken him….just in case you are wondering.

I was raised Catholic, family, school, etc… all of it.I know better to mock.

I appreciate.

I said the prayer twice silently and then realized that I hadn’t seen offspring in three minutes…which was enough time to hot wire one of the drink carts and get to the next town, so I set off to find him.

Weeks later, prayer card in purse, offspring at school, feet flying off of a treadmill, my dad called to check in.

He told me that he needed that card back when I found what I was looking for. He used it when he was in the same predicament earlier in my life and was blessed with the future, family and fortitude he now boasts.

I don’t know my future.

I don’t know when my next paycheck or job will come a knocking at my door.

I am horrified, humiliated, humbled and horrified again.

I do know though, that I will soon return the card to my dad, with a smile on my face and a re-written plan.

this one, has a much happier ending than simply …

“Step 7: Breathe”

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Tags: catholic, dramatic, economy, fired, Humor, job, laugh, life, love, new orleans, resume, saved, South Florida