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Something slightly loftier, pointed and hopefuly witty. |
| No truer statement can be said for me, and I am sure, for many of us across the country. It has been a challenging summer on many levels. In February of this year I lost my job at the airport when the company closed their doors after struggling to survive in the turbulent economy. At first, I wasn’t too concerned. After all, I have been in this industry for a number of years and knew I would find something quickly in a similar field, despite the fact that I did not want to remain in the aviation industry the rest of my life. It was a means to an end while I completed school; after all I want to be a writer. For the first few weeks following the shop closing, I decided to relax and put myself on “fun-employment” while getting caught up on the “me” things for a change. It was great; sleeping in like a teen, sitting at my third place all day, people watching and polishing my drumming skills; it was quite perfect. I was still writing for the technology magazine, had a few editing projects that brought in a few extra dollars, so I felt positive about my much needed, albeit, forced vacation. Then the weeks turned into months and jobs that, in the past, would have hired me on the spot now seemed to slip through my fingers. Despair and self-doubt set in quickly as I scrambled for a survival plan. Then, when matters couldn’t seem to get worse, my father fell ill in July and quickly deteriorated from a series of strokes and host of other complications that altered his personality, his memory, and will to live. Two-months later, he passed and I was one parent short. He was 72. Fun-employment had taken a drastic shift; I was barely surviving and was forced to give up my condo, placing everything I own into a self-storage unit and move into the spare room with a friend. This was all-out war. Life and the cosmos seemed to be on the offensive and my battle-weary body was being flanked by everything all at once. It was an emotional blitzkrieg. The latest strafing was news of mom being in and out of hospital with complications from ovarian cancer. She had been going through chemo while dad was still alive. I was comforted knowing she had the support of the family with her in Chicago, so I remained in Phoenix to deal with dad. It always haunted me that she too would pass and I would be forced to “choose” whose side to be by; the perils of living cross-country. I forged on, as Marines do. I had survived much worse and used that mental note as my trigger when I felt the pressures of “war” bearing down. I had a faithful group of friends that listened to my rants, usually without being asked, they listened none-the-less knowing I didn’t expect anything but an ear to bend and me knowing they couldn’t offer much more than that ear. There would be the “everything will get better” speech or the “it can’t get much worse” phrase or, my all time favorite, “hang in there.” I would often shake a fist towards the sky, damning the gods and the cosmos in complete defiance of the little war they had brought upon me. “I had survived much worse,” I would tell myself. There are entire families loosing their homes, living in the streets of Phoenix. I was doing well comparatively speaking. Challenge the challenge became a daily battle strategy. “Is this all you got,” I would ask. The rebellion towards my pain seemed to carry me through and soon it was the cosmos that grew weary. The months of battle have seemed to pay off. I will be returning to work on Monday, writing for The Paralyzed Veteran’s of America; a perfect position for me having dreamed of doing work for veterans. Mom is doing as well as can be expected and I have wonderful friends to call upon in stressful times. I finally upgraded my long-standing writing dot com account after months of being a mere by-stander and hope to begin sharing my rants and thoughts again soon. Life is a battle. You have to be willing to fight. Challenge your challenges. You are not alone. |
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