Gratitude

Boy, have my dreams taken a haircut. One minute, it’s like I’m looking at my long, silky, perfectly highlighted golden tresses in the mirror and the next time I check myself out I look like I’m 6 months into chemotherapy. What happened? Reality happened, that’s what. First my husband got laid off last fall. Then my job went up in smoke. And here’s the funny part—both of us are in the same profession, performing the least necessary function in corporate America today—recruiting! It’s so funny, I’m crying all the way to the unemployment office! So now we’re both at home, networking, sending out resumes, allowing ourselves moments of hope through the hours of worry and waiting.

We’re not used to this. We’ve always been beneficiaries of the “American Dream”. Working, raising kids, saving, spending—viewing our efforts as a collective, upwardly mobile climb to the finish line. Nothing crazy, mind you. We’re not the kind who were careening through life at top speed in a souped-up Hummer, weaving in and out of cars on the Autobahn. No, we’re the kind of people who drove the speed limit, stayed in our lane on the freeway, strapped in securely in our safe and steady Volvo. It’s a good thing too—we’re now the beneficiaries of our sensible habits and “rainy day” principles. But we never planned for Armageddon, which is how this economic collapse is starting to feel.

Like a lot of Americans, we’ve made adjustments. Here are some of the things we are NOT doing:

1. Saving. Not for college or retirement. Nada.
2. Spending. Unless I can eat it or put it in my gas tank, it’s extraneous.
3. Heating my home. Well, this may be a slight exaggeration, but in a 100-yr old home with 3 stories and high ceilings, something’s got to give. Let’s just say there are definitely zones in my home that would require 2 or 3 Snuggies for comfort.
4. Taking vacations. And my kids do not consider visiting grandparents a vacation.
5. Allowing ourselves to think too far ahead—it’s scary.

Here are some of the things we ARE doing:

1. Waiting for unemployment checks like we just hit the lottery
2. Considering putting our house on the market. It’s a good thing we bought it during the height of the market 3 years ago.
3. Carefully educating our children that we are facing some new economic realties ranging from a suspension of their allowance to the possibility they will have to take out loans for college.
4. Dining in, watching Netflix movies
5. Thinking creatively—a career at Barnes and Noble is not beyond imagining

When you’re living through something like this, you feel alone. It’s embarrassing, humbling, frightening—little comfort that you’re in the same boat with 7.25% of the American workforce. And it’s very easy to get taken down by a spiral of panic when you let your mind wander into the devil’s workshop.

I’ve found a couple of ways to cope. First, I’m writing about anything and everything that comes to mind. (Not that you’ll actually see all of this writing, especially not the stuff written after a couple of glasses of wine. I’ve learned not to drink and write.) It’s like a diary, but for some strange reason, I feel the need to make it public. For those of you who have a little more dignity and understand the need for privacy, I encourage this practice. Years from now when we’ve all returned to some semblance of prosperity, looking back on our struggles will make the present feel all the sweeter.

Second, I’m training myself to be grateful. This may sound counterintuitive when I’m so worried about what I don’t have, but a couple of tangible signs have appeared on my path over the last couple of weeks and I’m taking heed. The most important sign was the death of a good friend, Fernanda Smith of Mendham, NJ, who died on January 26th at age 47 of breast cancer. She had just celebrated her 5-year remission date in January of 2006 when she found that the cancer had returned. For the last 3 years, she has battled what she must have known was a losing fight. At her funeral, there were so many people—I’m sure I don’t even know that many people, much less have them come to eulogize me. And she leaves behind 2 children and a devoted husband who I’m sure would gladly give up jobs, homes, cars and vacations to have Fernanda back.

The same weekend of the funeral, I was visiting my sister and she gave me another tangible sign. A friend of hers had given her a couple of bracelets, like the Lance Armstrong “Livestrong” ones. She handed me one—it says “Thank you God. I am Grateful.” I’ve been wearing it ever since. The point of wearing it is to train yourself to think more often to appreciate what you DO have. And it works. Several times a day I read the words and really think them through. I have a house, a beautiful family, we eat 3 meals a day, my children are healthy and happy, my husband and I love each other and we do have faith in God. I think of the many people who have lost their homes. Of the people who don’t have health insurance. And I think of my friend Fernanda.

They say hope springs eternal. Unfortunately, like dandelions and crabgrass, so do fear and anger. But I’m not wasting my efforts on weedkiller to banish those demons. I’m relying on a higher power to remind me every day, in ways both big and small, to remember that I can still feel the grass between my toes and the sun on my face and for that, and so many other "simple" things, I am grateful.