Saturday & Sunday was all about family and Easter activities: dying egg, hiding eggs, hunting eggs, big dinner with deviled eggs. What is up with eggs at Easter? I bet it’s some genius marketing maven dreamed it all up to boost sales for the poultry industry. It could happen.
You’d think that everything would arrive at once, a clean cut, over and done with. But, no. Every day brought one new reminder that I was no longer going to the place where my co-workers and friends were. I am an outsider, no longer welcome into the hallowed halls.
Friday the final separation papers arrived.
My final paycheck arrived. I was expecting all the requisite paperwork, but the only thing in the large mailer was a small check. Heck, it’s money, I’ll take it. It was shy two hours of work as I forgot to clock in and out the previous Friday, but what the heck, it took care of our immediate needs.
Wednesday, being hump day and all that, should be the turning point of the week, don’t you think? Should rarely is, I find.
I went to see my Life Coach, if ever I were in need of direction . . .
We made a game plan, lists, and activities to ensure that I remained positive and proactive. We talked about the five stages of grief, and how I’ll be bouncing around those very stages for a while.
At the moment, I was in the acceptance stage. I had a positive mind set, I felt that I was moving in the right direction, and I thought I could handle picking up my belonging with aplomb.
I was fine until I began loading my boxes into my car. Then I was spitting mad.
Mad quickly turned to sad. I probably should have pulled over once the water works began, but I didn’t.
- Denial and Isolation
Day two – I attended a memorial service for the wife of my (former) manager.
It was rather odd as all of my team mates were there, too. They only knew I wasn’t returning to work, and many of them believed that I had found a better situation.
I wasn’t there to chit-chat about me, I was there to support my manager in his time of loss. I did well, kept it together until it was time to leave. On the walk to the car, I lost it. Fortunatly, my husband was with me and wisked me away with none the wiser.
At least I got to say good-bye.
March 25, 2013, in a word, sucked. I lost my job.
Yeah, I cried. Loudly.
But what happens after one loses their job? Well, this is my story – from the beginning, mostly.