Full circle joy

On Jan. 1, 2009, I made a resolution to “reclaim the joy in my life.”

Even to me it sounded flip, like a title you’d find in the New Age section of the bookstore, or the theme of a particularly bad Lifetime movie. When I said it I felt that involuntary tightening in my jaw, a kind of foreboding I tried to ignore. But I had said it, tossed those words into the universe like a glove thrown down for a duel. It felt like cowardice to take it back.

Eight weeks later I lost my job.

It wasn’t what I had in mind. But there it was. The career I spent more than a decade building, the one that took up so much of my life and kept me up a lot at night, ended with a meeting that lasted all of five minutes. What I remember most is the feeling of it, as if I had changed from valued employee to imposing stranger in the time it took me to walk up a single flight of stairs.

My position had been eliminated.

It happens every day in newsrooms across the country. In fact, it happens in every industry right now. But that was little consolation when it happened to me.

The U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics reported in November alone that there were mass layoffs involving 165,346 workers. And that’s what now counts as good news. The numbers constitute the lowest levels since July 2008.

Walking back down those stairs following the meeting I thought about my resolution. And then I remembered Truman Capote’s quote, “More tears are shed over answered prayers than unanswered ones.”

Sometimes the irony is all that saves us.

I cannot tell you that the next few months were easy. I have been known to tell other people that everything happens for a reason, but I’m a little too cynical to believe it myself.

What I did learn is how kind my family, friends and former co-workers are. They called and emailed me, took me to lunch and dinner. I got cards in the mail. My sons, my sister and my best friend checked on me every day for the first few weeks just to make sure I was okay.

Soon after, a friend from my writers group asked me to come back into the fold. I had not attended in years, saying my job writing crime stories all day kept me from producing anything close to creative.

They loved the first short story I brought in, or they said they did. It didn’t really matter at the time. I just needed the encouragement.

I began to recover.

And then on a perfect day in April, I got married. I had been single for 13 years. We had been together for a very long time but didn’t decide to marry until after I lost my job. Imagine that.

I read a lot of advice for the unemployed this year. Every article encouraged those in my situation to stay calm. Good luck with that one.

Networking made every list. The ability to ask those close to you for help was a popular choice, as was embracing an upbeat attitude. This is what helped me the most — don’t get stuck in the moment you were let go.  f I wanted to right now, I could tell you every word that was said, the demeanor of my former boss, and the sound of my office key sliding across the conference room table just before I got up and left the building for the last time.

It’s tempting, but don’t do it. If you do you’ll never be able to move on to the next great thing.

And there is a next great thing. For me it was the chance to write. It was the thing I never doubted.

In November, The City Wire (Tom Kirkham and Michael Tilley) gave me the chance. And yes, I am happy now.

What a year.

To think it all happened because I was determined to find the joy I let slip away so slowly it took me years to realize it was gone.

Not long ago I would have rolled my eyes while reading something like this. It’s not like your dog died, or your lover left, or your kid ended up in jail, I would have thought. But after it happened to me, it kind of felt like all those things had happened at once.

I won’t go so far as to say I have learned that everything happens for a reason. But I do believe what Kierkegaard said: Life can only be understood backward, but it must be lived forward.”

And really, that’s almost the same thing.

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Marla can be found electronically at [email protected]