The thing about losing your job is this: Shit.
Aside from the obvious end to a consistent and comfortable income, there's the matter of, "Do I really have to get off the couch today?" And so begins the last 24 hours of my life. When there is no reason to get up when you fall down, why get up? And so I sat. I ate cake. My friends came over last night with a jug of wine (an actual jug) and dozens of homemade chocolate chip cookies. So I sat. I ate cookies. I drank wine. This morning when I rolled out of bed, quite literally, with real bad bedhead and no pants on, I felt absolutely no reason whatsoever to pick myself up and behave like a human.
So I sat. I ate cookies. My friend dropped off a mug of coffee and another homemade chocolate chip cookie this morning, and I retreated back to the couch. I sat, I laid down, I sat back up, I curled up around a cat. I emailed friends, I tweeted, I glanced at the pile of dirty dishes in the sink. You'll never guess where I am right now.
On the couch.
But after nearly three hours of not moving, falling in and out of a nap, sitting in the silence of my cozy apartment, I got off my ass and went for a run. Damn, do I feel better. In between sending my resume to anyone who will read it and panicking over monetary troubles that will soon be out of my control, I have two choices: I can eat cookies, sleep and gain 25 pounds, or I can pick my goddamn self up and take advantage of the sudden freedom I have. (See what I did there? Turned "unemployment" into "freedom"? Oh yes. I'm good.)
Things will work out -- they always do. The amount of support that has poured in through every medium (phone calls, text messages, emails, tweets, blog comments, Facebook messages) has blown my mind. I have the best friends in the world, and an incredible support system. So even if I wither away, unemployed and depressed, on the couch, at least I can say I did so as one lucky girl.
That's the hardest part. Although I have an incredible support system, I can't help but feel a pang of sadness when I think of having disappointed those people. I lost a job I was proud to have, that they were proud of me for having. Because I wasn't good enough? It's hard to swallow that pill. It's hard to find the confidence again to shoot for the moon toward something new. It's not unlike a breakup. Dusting yourself off. Trying to remember who you were before you weren't enough.
But I'll be damned if I let this breakup keep me down. I've been told over and over that the next big thing is out there for me. I'll find it. When I do, we'll celebrate. And eat cookies.