Three weeks ago I was let go from my job. There I said it. Taking the stairs down for the last time was definitely an emotional experience. And as I stood in the lobby of our office building in the Flatiron District here in the big city, I held back my tears. But the first of what would be dozens of texts began to stream in.
I walked the block-and-a-half to the subway to go home to drop off my bag. You see, I had tickets to what turned out to be an amazing show for that evening. Usually on the train I read, either the news on my phone or a physical book. But I could do neither. I stood, holding the cold metal pole, stunned. I never in my life had I imagined that I would be fired.
Sure, I’ve lost an election before, but it wasn’t re-election. In a sense, I just wasn’t hired then. But now I had been given the pink slip, which ironically is white. Which makes me curious where that terms came from.
By the time I got home, still stunned, my roommate had made me tea. I walked into the hallway, dropped off my bag and entered the kitchen. He asked me what had happened. And as I began to talk, I lost it. The tears finally came. We sat on the couch, drinking tea while I cried. And it was cathartic. I let it out. My unhappiness. My anger. My shock. And my worry.
Then I quickly changed and while I walked back to the subway to go see my show, I responded to as many texts and emails as I could. Then I got to the show and tried to turn off my mind and take in the experience. And I did. After the show, I went to Shake Shack with my friend Vikash who had attend the show with me. It was just what I needed. The time with a trusted friend (but the chocolate and peanut butter shake helped quite a bit!) basically re-set my attitude.
As we sat there and conversed together and with the New Zealander working at The Shack, Vikash was more than excited. We was excited because he knew I had wanted more time to do the things I am passionate about. Writing. Painting. Speaking.
When I woke up Thursday, only an hour later than normal, I got right to work. I started writing again. In fact, the week after being let go, I had a blog post up each day of the week. I don’t remember the last time that happened. I am building online partnerships. I did one painting already. I’m looking forward to getting my camera out soon too! I’m working on a video script now as well. I’ve been on a few interviews. I have even sent my novel out to an editing team. And I’m relaxing. I’m breathing.
It only took me 12 hours to take the events from the afternoon of May 2 and turn them into something positive. Sure, I still have depressed moments as I truly enjoyed the experience and the team I spent 13 months with. But I constantly remind myself that in the end, it is the journey. It is the experiences. It is the people that matter in my life. Not the job. Not the name on the paycheck. It is the people that come in and touch my heart.
Sure I’m worried about the next paycheck, or rather, getting a paycheck again. But for right now, I am eager for the road ahead. The possibilities are endless and I can’t wait to share them with you here.
If this experience has taught me anything so far, it is that I really do believe in possible.