Or: Which way is up? down? sideways? And does it really matter?

My last 15 months have been filled with change. For sure the four years before that, moving to Cali and being with my dad, held a massive amount as well, but this last year’s change has been a more varied type of moving (literally) and shaking (figuratively). Whittling it down even more, this last week’s rocky road has been a jalopy of strangeness. One that’s been filled with the kind of surreal situations that in future may be looked back on as Wow, what a weird confluence of events, yet right now strike me as too soon.

Two weeks ago, out of the blue, this happened (the headline regarding AARP is all that matters in that link): While doing a job I’d come to love since July, copy editing for AARP as part of a great team of other copy editing humans, in a position that recognized my skills with great pay, benefits, hours, and interesting stories, there was a mandatory Zoom meeting with the staffing agency where we were all (our department, along with researchers, video producers, editors, and more, equaling over 70 people) laid off with one week of pay as severance. Turns out, AARP, the nonprofit organization whose mission statement is “to enhance the quality of life for all as we age. … [for] people [to] live with dignity and purpose and fulfill their goals and dreams.” had decided that monetary issues were more a driving force than the services/jobs/futures of their contractors, a majority of whom (including myself) are their target audience of oldsters.

Layoffs don’t surprise me having been in the working world for four decades, which has made me well-acquainted with how they operate across all working universes. So it’s not that it happened but rather how it did, being shrouded in all the mystery and silence that lawsuits bring. The confusion of being completely shut out from communicating or getting references from the managers with whom we worked well and closely. The radio silence regarding our circumstances and the fact that those self-same managers are not allowed to speak to or hire us for the next 12 months. The icy silence. I’m not a lawyer, although I do have a dear friend who is and who has been so amazing at parsing out the bits of this particular funhouse mirror. I have had an opportunity on the excellent group text that has started up amongst all of us displaced folx, to speculate, vent, and generally gnash teeth and shake fists at AARP, which has now put those of us who are over 50 (65% at last count) in a very challenging job market where our demographic is not exactly sought after. (But, hey, this market is extra tough for all ages and beings. We are not alone.) This is of course made richer by the specific stories about ageism in the AARP that I would regularly copy edit. This one, which was published on our last full workday, is particularly ironic.

Anywho, my point isn’t specifically the layoff, but rather how this thing began a series of events that are wild and make me wonder/understand how my little psyche percolates both taking in and reacting to things. Makes me question: Is there such a thing as a streak of luck? Is it more getting stuck in some weird forcefield of crazy? My mom, back in the day … maybe still? … is a fierce proponent of the power in positive thinking. I don’t have that same think-it-make-it-so belief system, I circle more around there’s a lot of random chaos while also knowing I have freedom of action in making choices. I don’t think there’s a born-under-a-bad-cloud kind of legacy. I think more I’m a teeny-tiny part of a very large universe and perhaps I’m just a player on this stage where sh*t (all kinds of it: good, bad, otherwise) happens.

That said, I’m currently marveling at the wack-ness this last week has brought in a kind of upside-down world way. Last weekend, D&I spent some time with a small group of excellent people, all of us looking to go a bit deeper in our ways of thinking and seeing the world. I, naturally, thought I’d be traversing the light fantastic, appreciating the power of nature, the magic of my mind. Instead I spent the bulk of my time in the bathroom throwing up (or purging, in the parlance of the group), then zonked out asleep on an air mattress. Weirdly, I did not feel upset about this. In fact, I didn’t actually feel any which way about it at all. D was by my side, making sure I was as good as could be, and he apparently had his own fine time. But wowza did it ever remind me that (wo)man plans and the gods laugh. Ya know, so I’ve been processing. My therapist reminds me these events have flattened me. Removed the must-do part of me that would be trying to solve the problem or figure out the why and how of the thing, when in reality, the job loss was me as collateral damage and the weekend events were a forced slowdown. Yes, I agree. As the part of me felled, lying on the proverbial ground where stillness actually feels good, I can see the shadow me trying to get up and tidy the joint. Do stuff. Looking for something to fix, to move. To stop thinking about where I’m at and distract myself with taking care of, er, stuff? This is why all the rest of the week’s malarky is hitting so hard.

To begin: D has been suffering a gum infection all week, which stops him from being able to eat solid foods and takes his energy way way down. There’s nothing for me to do there but give him hugs and work the blender overtime. The woman who I was forced to call to sort out my NYState unemployment insurance filed my claim wrong so I needed to spend another 4-ish hours on the phone with a new person redoing the caboodle for me to receive my weekly payout. (We’ll see.) After my annual physical in service of using up the good insurance before it runs out at month’s end, my GP found some abnormality that’s sending me to a specialist. It’s likely nothing (says, she), yet need to make sure. Girl cat seemed to have developed an eye infection, yet then managed to clear it up by herself (thank you, Lucille). I sliced the top of my finger with the sharp knife last night so that my left index finger looks like a bandage balloon—also, typing. That’s fun. A fork got stuck in the dishwasher’s utensil holder and it literally took a hammer for me to disengage it. Miracle I did not then smash myself into a concussion or put my eye out.

Look, I mean, I read over this stuff and it seems just absurd, yet also like a series of emotional paper cuts. Am I listening? Which way to letting it all go? Being quiet and paying attention. Stop doing. Cry some. Laugh some. Do nothing. or very little. A nauseous unemployed person wearing a bandage trying to work a hammer and the blender alternately while on hold with NYState unemployment as my beloved naps on the couch and the cats stare at us confused. And that’s just my house. That’s just right now.