Do People Grieve After a Job Loss?

How Some People Experience Job Loss

My husband went through the loss of a job about ten years ago. I remember that he was angry for a couple of days, but then he poured all of his energy into finding another job and the pain of the loss seemed almost forgotten. Throughout this time I watched him, confused.

"Why are you not more upset?" I asked him.

I don't remember his exact response, but it was something like, "I am upset, but there are other jobs out there, so why fret over this one?"

"But this is your job! Your life's work! A fundamental part of who you are! How can you be so blasé about having it taken away from you?"

Being a typical man, he simply shrugged and went on with his job search.

A year later, when I experienced my own job loss, it was quite a different story.

An Event That Many People Would Consider Traumatic

Twelve years ago--three years before my job loss experience--I suffered a miscarriage. I have known women who went through that and never fully recovered from it. I knew one woman who, twenty-five years later, still cried whenever she thought about it. I did cry over my miscarriage, but the tears only lasted a week. Then I moved on.

I think part of it was the circumstances under which it happened. We already had one child. We knew from the start that we wanted more, so we started trying again when our first turned a year old. We got pregnant right away. It wasn't until several days after that stick turned blue that I started to realize, "Holy crap! I'm going to have two children under two years old!" The thought made me nervous, but nevertheless, I wanted another child, so I was excited about the pregnancy. Then the miscarriage came, and because my first child was still so young, I think I just sort of accepted it as something that was meant to be. Then three months later I was pregnant again and all thoughts of that lost baby were banished in the flurry of preparing for the new one.

When I lost my job, however, it was quite a different story.

From the Start No One Understood

I found out I was going to lose my job months before it actually happened. Now, when I was hired the word "interim" was never used, so I naturally assumed this was a long-term decision I was making in accepting their offer. When they let me go, the word "fired" was never used. After all, they let me stay on until a replacement was found, so it wasn't really like being fired, right? I mean, I didn't have to collect my things immediately and be escorted from the building. I still had a job. For several months I still had a job. Basically, when they told me I was being replaced it became an interim position, but from the way they treated it I got the impression that they always thought of my assignment as a temporary one. They seemed to think that letting me go was no big deal. I should have been expecting it.

What I really felt was quite a different story.

The Worst Experience of My Life

I'll never forget the day I found out it was happening. I was at home. The job being part-time, quite often I received communication from the powers that be in the comfort of my home. It was not odd that this particular bit of news found me there.

It was about half an hour before a piano student was due at my house for a lesson, so I was tidying my living room and lighting scented candles and doing all the things I normally did to make the house presentable for my students. And then the news came. You've heard the phrase, "It felt like being punched in the gut"? Well, never was that description more accurate than it was for me in that moment. First there was a sick feeling that crawled up my spine as realization set in. Then I felt like all the air had been sucked from my lungs. Then the tears came. Then the sobbing. You've seen babies cry so hard they forget to breathe? That was me when I found out I was losing my job. I sat on the sofa, in my sweet-smelling, freshly tidied living room, and I struggled to regain control of myself. I literally thought I was going to throw up.

I watched the clock. I knew I had to let the tears come out, but I knew they had to be gone when my student arrived. So I timed myself. About ten minutes before the scheduled lesson time I ran to the bathroom, looked into the mirror, and took slow deep breaths until the tears finally subsided. I cleaned up my face with a tissue and continued staring at my reflection until I thought the redness around my eyes had lessened somewhat. Then I walked back to my living room just in time to welcome my piano student.

I honestly don't know how I made it through that lesson. Have you ever been in a situation where you refused to let yourself cry, but all the same you couldn't stop thinking about the thing you wanted to cry about? That was me. For that entire half hour I smiled and talked cheerily, and guided my student through his songs, but I was thinking about my job. When he finally left, I collapsed against the door and let myself cry again. I kept crying for a very long time.

I won't say that was the worst day of my life. In the coming months there were to be a lot of bad days, and I don't think I could pick one and say, "This one! This was the worst!" But it was bad. I can say that with absolute certainty.

For nine months I continued working that job while the powers that be looked for my replacement. I could have quit then and there, but I was holding on to this faint hope that if I just worked hard enough, if I could just prove my worth, they might change their minds. They didn't, of course, and nine years later I still can't think of that experience without bringing up all the pain I felt when I was going through it.

When You Think It Can't Get Any Worse

Have you ever been there? Have you ever felt so bad you didn't believe you could feel any worse? That was me during those nine months of waiting for my identity, my dreams, the foundation on which I was building my life to be snatched away. By the end I was so tired of waiting that I almost believed the end would bring relief. Then the end came. And it was worse than anything I ever could have imagined.

I live in a small town. My job was in that small town. My bosses and coworkers and the people with whom I interacted on a day to day basis were all my neighbors. I can't begin to describe what it felt like to walk through the streets of my town in the wake of my shameful dismissal. I looked at the windows of houses and, knowing who lived there, imagined the residents looking back at me and laughing. Thinking to themselves, "There goes Greta. She thought she could be somebody important, but we showed her!"

The Defining Moment of One's Life

Losing that job put my life on a different path than the one I had imagined for myself. I can't say for sure whether this new path has been better or worse than the one I would have followed had I kept that job. To quote Aslan from The Chronicles of Narnia, "No one is ever told what would have happened." So I will never know. I'll never know who I would have been today if I had not endured that one hardship. I do know that part of my life since has been a feeble attempt to reclaim what I had then. I'm like Europe in the Middle Ages, futilely trying to rebuild The Roman Empire. But the Roman Empire was gone and so is the life I would have had. So I have to figure out how to make the most of this new life. The life I never planned on.

In the title of this post I asked if people grieve after a job loss. The answer? I guess it depends on the person. But I know firsthand that some people do grieve, and grieve deeply. This article is for those people, so they will know they are not alone.

The Bizarre Things That Happen When You're Becoming Fluent in a Second Language

Beginning to Learn the Language

Learning a second language is more than just acquiring new words. There's a whole new grammar structure to learn as well, and, depending on how closely the new language relates to your native tongue, these grammar rules can prove quite confusing. Nevertheless, a huge part of learning a language is building your vocabulary. After all, what good does knowing the rules do you if you don't actually have anything to say?

Learning new words in your second language is very similar to learning new words in your first. Some will immediately feel easy to use, others will be awkward. If you're just starting out on your journey into the world of the bilingual, you may be surprised to find that sometimes these new words you're studying become as familiar to you as your first language. In fact, some words don't even feel like foreign words anymore. They just feel like words. And you feel tempted to use them in conversation just as you would use your first language.

The first Spanish word, well really I guess it's a phrase, that became as familiar to me as anything I had ever heard, read, or spoken in English was "tal vez", which means "maybe". This happened before I had even been studying Spanish for a year. Someone would ask me a question to which my response would have been "maybe", and "tal vez" would be the first thing to pop into my head. "Maybe" would follow a fraction of a second later, so I never actually got the point where I accidentally said "tal vez" out loud, but I was sorely tempted at times. Why was "tal vez" the first Spanish phrase to find a cozy place in my brain to snuggle up and nestle in for the night? I have no idea, but it was there nonetheless.

When You're Becoming a Little More Comfortable With the Language

After I had been studying for a couple of years, I occasionally found my English speaking brain trying to operate like my Spanish speaking brain. Here's an example:

The verb "to try" in English has quite a few different Spanish translations, depending on what, exactly, you are "trying". One translation is "probar" which can also be translated "to test". It is also the verb you would use if you wanted to say "to taste something" in Spanish. For example:

I want to taste that cake = Quiero probar ese pastel.

This verb gave me a laugh one day. I was at a church supper and I had just finished my plate. There was a delicious-looking chocolate cake over on the dessert table that I was just itching to try. When I turned to tell my husband that I was going to get myself a piece, the sentence that popped into my mind was, "I'm going to go probe that chocolate cake." Um...probe the chocolate cake? No, I most certainly did not want to say that out loud. That would conjure up a terribly inaccurate image of what, precisely, I intended to do with that cake. Luckily I caught myself just in time and was able to say "try" instead of "probe". Whew! Really dodged a bullet on that one.

Occasionally Speaking Your Second Language Better Than Your First

I do not yet consider myself completely bilingual. That word implies equal comfort with both languages, and I do not yet have that sort of mastery of Spanish. But sometimes...well, here's a funny story:

I was walking my dog and carrying on a rather lively conversation in my own mind (I'm a writer, so that's okay). I don't remember what I was talking to myself about, but at some point I starting thinking about things that people are not allowed to do. I knew that there was one word that summed up that sentiment, but I was having a hard time thinking of it. Then a word popped into my head. "Probidden." I stopped mid-step, scratched my head, and thought to myself, "probidden?" Somehow that didn't sound right. I knew it wasn't a real word, but I couldn't think what the real word was.

I continued walking, all the while racking my brain to figure out this mystery word that was giving me so much trouble. Then I thought, "It has to be 'probidden'. After all, the Spanish word is 'prohibido'. How else would I translate that to English?" Suddenly I remembered that "prohibited" was an English word that meant the same thing as "prohibido", but still it didn't sound right. I distinctly remembered a word that ended in "bidden". What was it? I just didn't know.

I walked for a good ten minutes, puzzling over this mystery, when finally it hit me. "Forbidden!" Yes! That was the word I had been trying think of. That was the word that meant "prohibido" but was not "prohibited". Once I thought of it, it was so obvious I felt instantly foolish, but that's what happens when your brain tries to think in two languages at the same time.

The Surprising Benefit of Learning Ballet

Not Really a Surprise

Okay, the idea that engaging in one form of physical activity improves your performance in another is nothing new. It's called cross-training, and people have been doing it for years. I guess what surprised me is exactly how much my performance improved, especially considering that I've been pretty physically active for a long time now. I did not expect just adding ballet to my regimen to have such an impact, but it did.

I Love Exercise

I love exercise. I joined a gym for the first time ten years ago, and ever since then I haven't been able to stay away. I teach yoga and Pilates. I've been to zumba classes, step classes, boot camp classes, and kickboxing classes. I've spent huge amounts of time on the treadmill and the elliptical. I take my dog on long walks. I swim laps whenever I go to the pool. And I love riding my bike on the country roads that surround my hometown.

Heaven and Hell on Two Wheels

I would describe cycling as both the most pleasant and most grueling form of exercise I've ever done. I love getting out in the morning, when the sun is low in the sky and everything is bright and golden, and just exploring. My eyes love it and my soul loves it. My legs, on the other hand, do not always have such a great experience. Last year I really got into this cycling thing. I would go out a couple of times a week, in addition to all the other exercising that I was doing. I should have gotten into better shape after a while. I should have reached a point where getting out on the road and pedaling for half an hour or more became easier, but you know what? It never did. It was always difficult. My legs would get so tired I would wonder if I would be able to make it home. Often I would cut my ride short because I just didn't want to go any farther. And it never got better. Never.

Until...

Along Comes Ballet

I started taking ballet classes about a year ago. I knew I was getting a leg workout. I could feel the fatigue after just a few minutes at the barre. I knew I was building strength in those muscles, but I didn't know just how strong I was becoming until this morning. You see, I haven't been taking regular bike rides lately. Through the winter it was just too miserable to get outside and do it, and in the spring I didn't think about it. But now it's summer and I want to ride again, so I decided to start this morning.

I was nervous. After all, I haven't been on a long ride in quite a few months. A route that was difficult last year should be darn near impossible after so much time off. But do you know I found? It wasn't impossible. In fact it was almost easy. Yes, my legs were tired, but not to point that I wanted to toss my bicycle in a ditch and curl up on the side of the road for a nap. Hills that I hated a year ago were suddenly easy. Even fun.

I know that this improvement is due to my ballet class because that's literally the only thing I've added to my exercise routine since the last time I attempted a bike ride. In fact I've backed off on some of the other leg exercises, like squats and lunges, that I was doing last year. I thought my legs would be weaker because of that, but apparently the ballet more than makes up for it. My legs are stronger than they've ever been.

No, ballet is not the solution to all of your fitness problems. In fact, I know I lack upper body strength because I don't spend enough time working those muscles. But if we're just talking legs, ballet really can do some amazing things for your body.

When Your Dance Teacher Videos Your Class

You've spent hours in the studio, strengthening and lengthening your muscles, learning complex choreography, and perfecting your dance moves. What felt awkward and difficult just a few months ago now feels as natural as breathing. You're starting to get the hang of this dance thing.

You're practicing a particularly fun bit of choreography and enjoying every moment of it. You feel light on your feet and one with the beat. Moving your body in such a graceful and elegant way makes you feel more beautiful than you've ever felt in your life, and you're absolutely sure you've just nailed that dance step you spent so much time learning. You're convinced that you look like John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever.

Yep, you're really feeling good about yourself right about now.

And then...

...your teacher decides to make a video...

...and she makes you watch it...

...and you realize...

...you don't look a thing like John Travolta.

In fact, you look more like Kelso from That Seventies Show.

At this point you realize you have a choice. You can either decide that you are not cut out to be a dancer, or you can decide to get back in the studio and practice until you do look like John Travolta.

When My Own Book Makes Me Cry

A Difficult Process

I have to admit that I've had something of a love-hate relationship with my current work in progress. I mentioned in a couple of previous posts that my first book, Amelia's Children, flowed out of me with relative ease. I completed the writing portion in just three months and had it published a couple of months after that. This new book, Primogénito, has been more of a challenge. There is so much backstory and the paranormal element required so much research on my part before I even started writing that in the beginning I kept getting bogged down in the details. Some days I didn't even want to write at all because I knew that before I did I'd have to do about a dozen Google searches and read passages from about a dozen different books just to makes sure I was getting everything correct. For a while this really slowed down the writing process.

In Love With My Characters

This is the driving force for all of my writing. I have to love the characters or I don't want to write about them. More specifically, I have to be head over heels in love with my primary male character. In Amelia's Children, that character was David, (though by the end I was also kind of digging Sarah's brother Will too). In the new book my favorite character is Damian Fuentes.

A Complicated History

The story revolves around Damian, his wife Jenn, their friend Ashley, and Ashley's husband Nick. There's an extensive back story that gradually comes out over the course of the book involving a traumatic event that the four of them lived through five years previously. Though Damian and Jenn were dating at the time, it was Ashley he turned to for comfort during the first few weeks after everything went down. Jenn never fully recovered from the pain of seeing the man she loved open up to another woman while simultaneously withdrawing from his own girlfriend.

A New Crisis

After moving to a new town and spending the past five years trying to put their lives back together, Damian and Jenn are pulled back into the darkness of their past when Ashley shows up on their doorstep, informing them of another crisis and begging for Damian's help. Jenn doesn't want him to get involved, but Damian feels responsible for what's happening and has to try and fix it. This causes the four of them to once again confront demons they thought were long dead. Along the way they also have to deal with feelings about their complex relationship with each other.

Something of a Love Triangle

A major factor in the story is the fact that Damian and Ashley were a couple before they married their respective spouses. Jenn's jealousy of Ashley and Nick's jealousy of Damian become recurring themes as the story unfolds. Though Damian no longer has romantic feelings for Ashley, still it hurts Jenn to see them together.

Because it is my mother's favorite movie, I saw Gone With the Wind about a hundred times over the course of my childhood. I practically have the whole thing memorized. So it's only natural that I think of Gone With the Wind as I write my own story about an Ashley who threatens the marriage of the two main characters. That's not why I named her Ashley, though. I already had her named before I came up with the love triangle dynamic. I didn't even know that Ashley and Damian had a past relationship until I finished writing chapter two. I certainly was not trying to write a tribute to Gone With the Wind.

Jenn's Greatest Fear

Jenn is afraid of much more than just losing her husband to an old flame. There are much darker forces at work in this story than marital strife. The things Damian is required to do in order to help Ashley with her new problem could prove extremely dangerous and Jenn wants no part of it. She wants Damian to walk away so they can live their lives in peace, but she knows he would not be the man she loves if he did that, so she has to let go and let him do what is in his nature to do, even though she knows it might mean losing him forever.

An Iconic Scene

Back to Gone With the Wind for a moment. Remember that scene at the end when Rhett has finally had enough and decides to leave Scarlett for good? Yeah, I'm talking about the "Frankly, my dear..." scene. It's impossible to watch that scene without feeling all the despair Scarlett feels as she watches her husband, a man she's only just realized she's madly in love with, walk away for the last time. Though you understand why he does it, still you want him to come back to her and tell her everything will be alright.

My Own Scarlett and Rhett Scene

Just this week I found myself writing a scene that kept reminding me of this final goodbye between Scarlett and Rhett. Again, I did not set out to write any kind of tribute. What is happening between Damian and Jenn is pretty much inevitable given where the story has taken them up to this point. I've made it to the scene where he finally understands what he has to do in order to solve Ashley's problem, and he's going off to do it. Jenn is begging him to stay home because she knows how dangerous a quest this is going to be, but he goes anyway, leaving her standing, in tears, in the doorway of their house. As I was writing it I kept closing my eyes and seeing Rhett walking away while Scarlett cried for him to return, so I thought, "Hey, if ever there was an appropriate moment for a Gone With the Wind reference, it's here." So I wrote, "Jenn watched him, feeling a bit like Scarlett O'Hara watching Rhett Butler disappear into the mist. All for the sake of someone named Ashley."

In Tears Now

I don't know why, but writing that line made me cry. I guess it's because I'm already feeling all the tension between Damian and Jenn, so as she watches him leave I'm crying along with her. And maybe it's partly from some element of nostalgia for all those lazy afternoons spent with my mom watching her favorite film. Maybe it's because it is such a powerful scene from such a classic movie. I don't know. All I know is that it has reduced me to tears and has made me fall even more deeply in love with my characters than I already was.

When You're the Unpopular Kid in School

You Fear Whispering

When you were in school, every time you walked into the classroom the group of girls huddled in the corner would start whispering and giggling and saying mean things about you. As an adult every time you see a group of people speaking in hushed tones and occasionally giggling, you assume they're talking about you. After all, that's what it always meant before.

You Become the Teacher's Pet

The other kids have rejected you, but you know there's one person in that classroom who can't reject you. It's her job to love you unconditionally, so you get to a point where you'd rather stay in from recess and spend time with the teacher than go outside where no one likes you. As an adult you get a job and do everything in your power to please your boss. You work late. You run errands. You go above and beyond what's expected of you because you know your boss doesn't have to accept you. He can reject you at any moment, and you'll do almost anything to keep that from happening.

You Have a Hard Time Delegating Authority

As a kid, every time you went up to someone you didn't know very well, they told you to go away because they didn't want to play with you. Initiating conversations meant guaranteed rejection, and if you happened to make the mistake of touching someone, you also had the pleasure of watching them wipe off your cooties. As an adult you don't like to ask anyone to do anything for you, even if it's part of your job, because delegating requires initiating conversations and initiating conversations means setting yourself up for rejection.

It's Difficult to Maintain Friendships

When you were in school, the question wasn't if they'd stop wanting to be your friend, but when. As an adult, you pray that your friends won't leave you, but you wait for it to happen nonetheless. An unreturned phone call, a cancelled lunch date, or an invitation to your home that isn't followed up quickly by a return invitation are all signs that the person doesn't want to be friends with you anymore. You become so terrified that your suspicions are correct that you stop trying to be that person's friend.

You Wonder What You Did Wrong

You remember that as a kid you picked your nose, or you failed to clean under your fingernails, or you wore a hand-me-down shirt that was a little too threadbare. There was some event that caused all the other kids to abandon you, and you knew you had only yourself to blame. As an adult you look at yourself and see a mature, responsible individual. You're not the same person you were back then, and neither are the other people your age. You're better at fitting in and they're better at accepting the differences of others. So when someone does reject you, you beat your head against the wall and wonder why. Haven't you worked really hard to make sure this sort of thing will never happen again? You're tempted to think that there is some part of who you are that is just fundamentally unlovable.

You Don't Trust What Your Parents Tell You

It's confusing as heck to have your mother fix your hair in the morning and tell you that you're the most beautiful little girl in the world and then go to school and have everyone else tell you how ugly you are. You weigh the word of your mother against the word of everyone else and conclude that it must be your mother who is wrong.

It's Easy to Forgive

Kids are kids, and kids can be mean. You know that you're not the same person you were when you were eight years old, and neither is anyone else. How can you hold a grudge against someone who doesn't even exist anymore?

You Have a Soft Spot for Other Social Outcasts

You have forgiven the people who teased you all those years ago, but you don't have to forgive the people who are still doing it to others now. Nothing bothers you more than seeing someone pushed out of their social circle just for being...well...themselves.

The Grown-Ups Just Don't Get It

Okay, your teacher gets it because she sees it everyday, but family members and friends of your parents don't understand at all. They'll playfully ask, "Do you have a boyfriend?" and when you respond, "All the boys pick on me," they say, "Oh, if they pick on you that means they like you!" Um...no. It most certainly does not mean they like you.

You're Fine, Most of the Time

You don't think about elementary school twenty-four hours a day. You don't have nightmares in which the other kids surround you and sing that song. You know that song. The one where they changed the lyrics so they could sing it to you and let you know what a worthless individual you were. Yeah, you hated that song back then, but now you rarely think of it. After all, everyone has grown up and life has moved on. But sometimes...when you hear whispering...when you're waiting for a friend to return your call...when you catch someone in the wrong mood and they snap at you...you morph back into that scared little kid and wait for everyone to reject you. But only sometimes. Most of the time, you're fine.

Some Thoughts About Peer Pressure

Sally

Sally loved to read. There were few activities more satisfying than opening a new book and stepping out on that journey into unknown worlds. She read all the time. In the bed. In the bathtub. At the beach. Even at school. But then one day one of the popular girls caught her reading in her spare time at school and picked on her. Sally never read a book for pleasure again.

Sally loved music. She took piano lessons, but because her family occasionally struggled with money her mother had told her that she could have piano lessons or she could have all the new designer clothes that the kids at school were wearing. At first she chose piano, but one day at school one of the rich girls saw the tattered second-hand outfit she was wearing and teased her. Sally never took a piano lesson again.

Sally loved science fiction. Star Trek was her favorite television show. But one day at school one of the mean girls saw that she had a notebook with a picture of Spock on it and made fun of her. Sally never watched Star Trek again.

Alice

Alice loved to read. There were few activities more satisfying than opening a new book and stepping out on that journey into unknown worlds. She read all the time. In the bed. In the bathtub. At the beach. Even at school. But then one day one of the popular girls caught her reading in her spare time at school and picked on her. Alice never talked to that popular girl again.

Alice loved music.  She took piano lessons, but because her family occasionally struggled with money her mother had told her that she could have piano lessons or she could have all the new designer clothes that the kids at school were wearing. At first she chose piano, but one day at school one of the rich girls saw the tattered second-hand outfit she was wearing and teased her. Alice never talked to that rich girl again.

Alice loved science fiction.  Star Trek was her favorite television show. But one day at school one of the mean girls saw that she had a notebook with a picture of Spock on it and made fun of her. Alice never talked to that mean girl again.

The End Result

When their high school graduation rolled around, Sally was surrounded by an entourage of beautiful girls who were willing to worship the very ground she walked on if only she would talk, act, and dress just like they did. Alice, on the other hand, was surrounded by a very small group of girls who all accepted her just as she was.