Hope at the Violet Hour of My Despair

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My mother spoke comforting words into the pre-dawn night’s – her voice steady and calming through the phone, soothing my rampant, dark panic.

“It’s always darkest before the dawn.” My mother said.

“But it’s been a twelve-year dawn, Mom,” I would counter, smoking, nerves frayed.  Then…

“Even for us there will be a softening in the wind.”  She said, wisely, like a prayer.

And my spirit took comfort.  She, I believe, has found a softening in the wind, through death, though my spirit dwells with her still.  But at last, after a year of praying, meditating, howling, roiling, and raging at my destiny, I have three job offers on the table.  As the strain drains from my body, I find a softened, tired, grateful shadow, hands raised in a boxing position, still battering at windmills.

God came through at precisely the moment when I was drained, wondering how and if I could reinvent myself, fashion my being into something and someone that was marketable in this changing labor landscape.  I’ve sold 25k worth of jewelry and had about two months of liquidity left before hammering my meager stock portfolio.  A long over due bank loan against my apartment was the last resort and that’s scheduled to come through, though they are rechecking my loan since I am in Zone A – high risk area – post hurricane Sandy.

I need time to process the offers and to at last choose the one that is best for me.  I will take time to find gratitude in a battle wearied spirit.  I will thank the friends who have stood as encouraging banners against the winds of my despair.  At the violet hour of my discontent, there is relief.  I can rest without thinking that I may need to move, without dreading the next day.  Now I have to reapply myself to work.  This vast expanse of time has also given me some space to heal and pursue other hobbies, jewelry-making, boxing, writing….late nights and early afternoon mornings. http://tinyurl.com/a7m5ras

I no longer have an excuse to indulge in self sabotaging behaviors like refusing to eat because I can’t afford decent restaurants now; gnawing my cuticles thinking that is nourishment and protein; dating men who don’t interest me because I’ve lost interest in my tired story; driving through the hurricane soaked streets of New York with no gas left in the tank; waiting on gas lines during a blizzard; obsessively watching Rock of Ages because I find Tom Cruise unbelievable sexy in the role; waiting until dawn before trying to sleep.

My cats cuddle next to me in winter’s awakening dawn, fur-thickened Persian bodies comforting me and telling me that they knew all would be well.  I feel their silky purring reassurances and close my eyes – tonight there will be rest.

When you’ve walked the last mile on your road and can no longer see a clear path before you, believe in yourself and a higher power who holds you steady against the bruising winds.  A friend recently wrote that I should “keep knocking on those doors” and that “kindness rebounds.”

Thanks for the reminder.


Weekend Break: Looking for a Job or Losing my Sanity Which will Happen First?

I believe that my journey across the divide can comfort, perhaps inspire, others in similar situations.  People have been discombobulated, disenfranchised and marginalized during this economic downturn, or shall I say, collapse.  MBA’s, PHD’s, fraternize with interns as they grasp, once again, the first rung of a ladder that they’d climbed successfully only years before.  One’s involvement with life is defined in part by their contribution.  Psychic income is a powerful motivator.  But what have we been contributing to – a grossly enlarged golden parachute for C level executives?  Have we created better lives or working environments for ourselves or our children?

Romney fattened his pockets and fed his children through dismantling companies after burdening them with impossible debt, taking his profits and moving on. Great article: http://tinyurl.com/cmqv7t6. I thought that we created in America.  I thought that creation was part of the American Dream.  As long as stocks rise and prices are inflated, we’re all happy, right?  But when we sit back with a glass of Scotch or chilled martini what do we behold?  Have we created art?  Have we contributed to the sustainability of the American Culture, or are we halfway to Prada, or Blahnik to festoon the visible signs of our collective looting?

These issues are too complex for me.  I know that I’m a talented businesswoman who has played a large role in building several businesses and that I shouldn’t be fretting over where my next gig will come or when it will come.  How does one circumnavigate the pitfalls without compromising their beliefs?

Still when all the debates have been debated and the talking heads are silent, I’d rather be browsing online for a ticket to Paris and discussing Thanksgiving plans with my partner.  Maybe we’ve all settled for less.  And therein lies the difference – the flaw in the equation that doesn’t add up when we take a moment to review our life.