Bouncing Back

It's been a very rough few weeks here. It began with our Biggles passing away. We had been hoping for more time with him and his presence is so sorely missed. I still have not been able to write about it, though I will eventually post a tribute to him, like I did for Frankie.

A week to the day later, we found out that someone had cloned one of our bank cards and drained one of our checking accounts. And then, because we weren't having enough fun, a week and a few days after that, I lost my job.

Losing my job came as a complete shock. I was in the middle of several ongoing projects. Everyone was happy with my work—and said so. To the best of my knowledge, my contract was going to be renewed and paperwork was underway.

It was the Tuesday following Labor Day. I was in up to my ears and having a very productive day when the phone rang. It was the consulting agency that signed my checks and my rep with the agency said, "we've just received a very strange email from the client. Today is your last day."

I'm in my forties. I've had my fair share of jobs. I've never lost a job like that. No warning. No explanation. It was three-thirty in the afternoon and in less than two hours, I was going to be unemployed.

To say I was in shock doesn't even begin to describe what I was feeling. I had no idea what we were going to do. I didn't even have a final week's worth of pay to look forward to, just my earnings for that Tuesday, minus the usual taxes and the cost of health insurance for two. (It didn't amount to much.)

It angered me to be dismissed with so little care—to know that my work could be deemed unnecessary and unwanted by someone I'd never met. I'm not surprised though. It's the way companies operate these days the people who do the work don't matter. (Job-providers my ass!)

Wookie and I thought this job was a new beginning for us. We were hoping to finally get climbing out of the morass of debt that my little family has been trapped in. It's amazing how quickly that hope was extinguished.

After the initial shock started to wear off I had another battle to fight. I could feel Depression looming. Suddenly, for the first time in many years, I was hitting the old lows that dominated my twenties. It wasn't just the emotional lows—being sad is a perfectly justifiable reaction to getting fired. Suddenly, I was saddled with the physical side of Depression. The aches and heaviness I had not felt in years.

I fought Depression in college and throughout my twenties. I know Depression lies. But it this time I had something tangible pushing me into the darkness. It did not help that when I applied for unemployment, I had to watch a video about resources "to help me find a job and and keep it." Insult added to injury because I had done nothing to earn my dismissal.

The ache of depression pushed my shoulders down and made my joints hurt. I steeled myself for battle. There was too much to do and I could not afford to be in that pit again. I had obligations to meet. While the day-job was over, I still had other work to do and more than that, I had Wookie.

In my darkest moments, Wookie was there. He brought me roses and told me how much he loves me and needs me. Wookie reminded me of the difference I make—Wookie, who has also been struggling to find work, but still gives back. He trains a search and rescue squad to help others in times of crisis and has never hesitated to help someone else in need. If giving back could pay the bills and keep a roof over our heads, we'd be set.—Wookie reminded me of the lives I touch as a Celebrant and teacher. Loss of the day-job had not changed that.

The Social Media course I teach my fellow Celebrants every summer was due to start that Thursday night. I had to pull myself together. I also had several weddings coming up that needed to be revised, written or officiated. My other professional life was still intact and this work—while it usually has to take the back-burner to the higher-pay and health insurance of the day job—was important.

The first session of my social media class was just one hour, but I felt immeasurably better afterwards. The heaviness and pains of Depression had faded. Was I still sad? Sure. Was I still afraid of what the future would bring? Absolutely! But I was reminded that I still had work with a purpose.

People tie so much of their identities to work. Take that away and you can hurt someone on more than a financial level. I think there are two kinds of work. The kind you do for the paycheck and the kind you do to make a contribution. If you're lucky, you get to do both at once. Sadly, I think many people don't ever look past the paycheck. Maybe they don't think they can.

My day job as a technical writer was a paycheck job. I enjoyed the people I worked with. I enjoyed the challenge and always worked to exceed expectations. I even enjoyed the products I was working on. But at the end of the day, I don't believe lives were touched or improved by what I worked on for 40-hours a week. When I walked away at the end of the day, I had money but little else. The same can be said for most of the 9-5 jobs I've had.

I believe my work as a Life-Cycle Celebrant® makes the world a better place. It glorifies Love. It honors the individuals, couples, and families I serve. I tell their stories, because they are important enough to be heard. I respect and honor their wishes and help I them celebrate in ways that are unique, because each person's experience of life is unique.

When I walk away after a ceremony, I feel satisfied. I know I've made a difference. This may sound like just so much fluff, but I've been the client and I know how it touched my life to be heard and have my wishes honored. I've also had the honor of hearing from clients and their friends and family about what their ceremonies meant to them.

When I teach my fellow Celebrants, I know more lives will be touched by what they carry forward. It all ripples out like rings from a stone tossed in the water.

So here I am looking for a new day job and I know that there may come another day when an employer decides that my contribution is unimportant and lets me go.  Luckily for me, I know that my work as a Celebrant is important and always will be.

I'm never going to get rich as a Celebrant, though my hope remains to eventually make a full-time career of it. But for now, as some parts of our world come crashing in on us, I know that no matter where Wookie and I end up, we will always have each other and I will always have Celebrancy as away to contribute to the world. What I get back from Wookie and Celebrancy is a wealth that can't be measured.

Ending Radio Silence

I haven't written in a while. The last few weeks have been a roller coaster and I have been stuck about how to write about it and how much to say. I've also been very busy living it.

I had one great week where I booked several weddings for 2012. It was an amazing week and I was giddy with success.

The next week we found out that we don't qualify for refinance. While there are some things left to be done—so we don't have a time frame yet—we know we're losing the house. So that really killed the mood.

The first thing I did was send an email to immediate family. It was an announcement and a request. I listed things that would be helpful to hear and things we didn't need to hear. After that, I spread the word on Facebook and via email to more friends. It's nerve-wracking to admit to the world that you're in trouble—that your best efforts to keep your head above water have not been enough. Having got the word out and received a response, I can say that while we face some uncertainty, we have a lot of support.

Over the next two weeks, I was called about three potential jobs.  I had two interviews for one, but have not been called back. That's alright though, I don't think we're a great match.

All of this lead me to some reflection. Wookie and I talked about success and failure. I've never measured success in terms of money. Losing my full-time job last year didn't impact my self-image that much because it was just what I did for money.  Don't get me wrong, I take pride in my work as an editor and technical writer. I do a fantastic job for my business writing clients* and they have always been happy with my work.  But my real calling will always be Celebrancy and teaching. The business writing doesn't touch lives the way Celebrancy and teaching my Celebrant students does.  

*I consider full-time employers clients too.

The knowledge that we will be losing the house though, caused me to call some things into question. I know we're not alone. There are people who are much worse off than us. But I found myself in a dark moment where I had to wonder if my definition of success could handle the material realities of what many would define as failure.

I have to say I am definitely married to the right man for me. Wookie defines success as I do—in lives touched. While we've both struggled to make a living in this economy, he's never stopped helping people. Right now he's the training officer for a volunteer search and rescue dive squad, and while he looks for a job as an EMT, he keeps taking courses, training, learning more. We've both lost count of the number of people he's helped along the way.

Wookie reminded me that we share the same view of what's important. He told me about his Dad and his uncles–how he learned from them the value of making an impact on someone's life and how there is more to the world than one's net worth.–We especially talked about his uncle Des, who I had the pleasure to meet on just a few occasions and who was, maybe one of the sweetest people ever.

Last week Des passed away. We knew it was coming, he'd been ill for some time, but it's still sad. Here was a man whose love for his wife Margaret will always be a model for me. Even as Alzheimer's stripped the world away one memory at a time he held on to her. What an amazing love.

And so, I have perspective again. It may seem that the world is crashing down on our ears. I look at our not very neat house and try to wrap my head around packing while Wookie looks for a place for us and the cats to live. I worry about the practical things and getting it all done while tending to my Celebrant students, and my clients, and everything else. But at the end of the day, wherever we wind up, I know we'll be together, doing what we do. And that's what really matters.

This Marriage Brought to You by a Fortune Cookie

For the last couple of weeks I have been telling you the story of how Wookie and I found each other and started our life together. Today is the anniversary of our proposal.

Wookie and I had been together for 17 days. And by together, I mean constantly. We took short breaks to go to our respective jobs. On weekends I went to the dive shop with Wookie. As far as we were concerned, we were still on our first date.

In our first week together, we had already established that we loved each other. Wookie said it first. I said it a week later. Life was good. We had settled into a weird kind of cohabitation that involved both our homes as we each had cats to feed.

After about two weeks together, I would occasionally catch Wookie muttering something.  When I asked what he said, he would say, “noting” or mutter something about “too soon.”

I had some fortune cookies stashed away,
but Wookie ate them before I could take a picture.

I let it pass. I was having too good a time.

January 11, found us back in the Manhattan dive shop where he worked. It was quiet day—not a customer to be seen. We ordered Chinese food for dinner. I don’t remember how I entertained myself that afternoon, I remember Wookie was reading a book and muttering. 

“We should get married!” I said. But Wookie was too busy muttering to himself to hear me. 

I went to pick up our dinner.

Dinner was a picnic, right out of the containers, with chopsticks and plastic forks, eating over the glass counter by the register. I reached into the bag our dinner had come in looking for the fortune cookies—there was only one. I gave it to Wookie.

The dive shop has long since closed, but if we were to find our way back, I could tell you exactly where he stood. I watched him crack open that cookie and read the fortune. Something went through his whole body—like a sigh but with more resolve.

“Can you come here?” he asked.

I came around the counter and he took my hands, sighing again.  This time he asked, “So, would you like to marry me, please?”

I know I said yes. I know I jumped up and down like a jackrabbit on speed. Then I said, “Are you kidding?” Actually, I asked several times.

He wasn’t kidding.

For weeks—almost as long has we’d been together—he’d been wanting to propose. All those mutterings of “too soon” were about asking me to marry him. Considering how I reacted to his first I love yous, I couldn’t blame him.

But what had changed?

The fortune cookie was the clincher.

ANY DECISION YOU MAKE TODAY WILL BE A GOOD ONE

I’d like to say it was a romantic evening after that. But the fortune cookie wasn’t the only surprise of the evening. That night we both had food poisoning. 

Still, nothing confirms true love like how your fiance reacts when you're doubled over with your body trying to turn itself inside out. We took good care of each other that night—and ever since.

The Passing of a Little Mischief in My Life

Prelude

Frankie

Sometime in the year before we were married, one of our roommates came to us asking if it would be alright for her to cat-sit a pair of kittens for a few days.  Her friend was moving, she said, and she was worried about the tiny kittens getting lost or hurt.

Paul and I laughed. Our roommate didn’t understand that she had just adopted two cats.

Time passed and the kittens stayed. The roommate would mention from time to time that it would just be a few more days. Paul and I would laugh because she still didn’t understand that she had adopted 2 cats.

Sometimes the roommate would leave for the weekend and we, I mean Paul, would feed the kittens. “Don’t get attached.” I’d say. But who was I kidding. At the time we already had four cats between us—we each came into the relationship with two. So obviously we are the type to become attached.

Time passed some more and the kittens, as they do, became young lady cats and went into heat. The roommate asked who our vet was so she could get them fixed. Paul and I laughed because once you pay for surgery, you have definitely adopted the cats.

Our wedding was fast approaching and the roommate announced she was moving out. She was going to put the cats in a shelter if she couldn’t find a home for them. Paul and I stopped laughing. We had just adopted two more cats.

Love Is...

©Cristina Kollet 2010

On the Subject of Bullies

Like many, I have been saddened by the stories of young people taking their lives because of bullies. A lot of people are contributing videos to the It Gets Better Project. I wanted to use this blog to add my two cents.

Bullies are fearful, diminished individuals who are so insecure of the validity of their own convictions or themselves that they must rage against anything or anyone that presents the possibility that an alternative exists. And they make their point by force, or with words, or by exclusion. Some can do it with a look. Some do it in person, some online, or by text. Some use the media, some even use the pulpit.

Bullies exist in all walks of life, at all ages. Some are individuals; some are groups, governments, institutions, and religions.

They get the most attention because they scream the loudest. Because happy, satisfied, secure people don’t spend a lot of time screaming that everyone should be as they are. Happy, satisfied, secure people are fine with the existence of differences; they understand that it takes a lot of different people to make a society work. It doesn’t shake their sense of self to see that alternatives exist. The best embrace them.

I dealt with bullies when I was a kid. In grade school there was a girl who picked on me and threatened to beat me up after school. (I showed up. She didn’t.)

I went to a very cliquey high school where kids ran in similarly dressed tribes and didn’t belong to any of them. This made me very unpopular with certain girls. I was picked on for a while because I hadn’t developed yet and later because I had developed too much.

Bullies tend to pick on something their victims can’t change, or can’t change easily. I spent a fair amount of my time trying to be invisible. But eventually I learned that the true power was in focusing on myself and not caring what they thought.

(I’ll admit this tactic is most effective against bullies who are using physical attack.)

People will tell you that it gets better. I’ll join that chorus.

I wish I could go back and tell my younger self that the most important thing is not to give up. What bullies want is to kill your hope and your faith in yourself. Don’t give that to them. It’s too precious and worth way more than their opinion of you.

As I said before, bullies try to be the loudest voice in the room, so they can’t be ignored. Don’t confuse them with the majority. And please don’t confuse people who claim to speak for God with words of hate as speaking for everyone either. They speak for themselves. They may speak for their small group. But they don’t speak for everyone and they are most likely not people you would want to spend your time with anyway.

So how is it that things get better?

Don’t put up with it. If you’re being harassed or threatened, tell someone, tell everyone. Keep talking till someone helps.

Unfortunately our culture is entirely too comfortable with hazing. And you may find that people in your life expect you to roll with it. They survived, now it’s your turn. Or they may just not want to hear what you have to say because they disagree or can’t deal.

If you can’t find someone in your circle to help you, expand your circle. Talk to the parent of a friend or a teacher or go farther out. Groups like the Trevor Project can help. If the focus of the bullying isn’t a matter of gender identity, there are other groups that can help. A quick Google search can help you find someone.

Focus on what matters to you and have faith in yourself. Focus on the people who accept you as you are and if you haven’t found them yet, keep looking. They are out there and they probably feel like you do. And remember that the best way to find new friends is to take a chance and just be one.

Focus on what you’re good at and passionate about. Share your gifts. Teach someone what you know, make art, make music, study what interests you. These are the things that will matter later and make your life bigger and more wonderful.

And listen to the softer voices. Pay attention to the people who smile at you, the ones who celebrate your achievements, the people who don’t feel the need to shout from the rooftops that different is bad.

You’ll find that we out number the bullies. They’re the ones who don’t belong because they hold themselves apart.

Your life has so much more in store for you than their narrow worldview can even guess at.  And you’ll find your happiness when they’re still cowering in fear, grasping at their narrow world view and screaming against the winds of change.

Bluer skies and better days await you.