“This is the hardest conversation I’ve had to have since 2003,” he said.
I set my notebook down as I realized what I’d been summoned to hear.
“It’s ok,” I said, though behind my bright smile, every part of me was howling, “Nooooo. Nooo, this isn’t happening!”
I am officially a statistic, a victim of the economy. My position is being eliminated. My health insurance is gone.
I have the option for Cobra, maybe even some federal plan for those that are laid off. I just don’t have what I’ve had anymore.
I know that we’ll be ok, but I know something else now too. When it is not your decision, when you have done your job, when you have to wait ten minutes for them to get to the point, to finally say, “It’s not you, it’s just, well, I really don’t want to, but I have no choice…” it kills. There is nothing to be done but to preserve dignity. It is an excruciating feeling, a kind of naked fear, shame and embarassment feeling and I know but a sliver of what some people do.
I deleted a post earlier. It was jumbled, unclear, like the pieces I was trying to sort. It’s later now. I took a walk with my family. Counted 1, 2, 3 for sister arm wrestling. Twisted braids and brushed teeth. Allowed myself to be hugged. I am still scared, still stinging, but a little less numb.
Maybe this is my chance to write my book.