Well, that sucks

Trying to find the silver linings (or at least not panic)

Well, that sucks

Trying to find the silver lining (or at least not panic)

I got some news this week that has made my creative juices dry up. I still have a job—unlike

Kristi Keller

—and with my husband’s employment, we are (or rather, should be) financially secure. And all my loved ones are alive and (relatively) healthy, so I’m not living in a House of Grief—unlike

Jenna B. Neece

—and for that, I am thankful.¹

The problem is that I’m in limbo. A conversation with my employer—which I will now refer to as “The Conversation”—has me on edge. Part of me has been feeling overworked and wanting to step back, so I should be glad about this change. Another part of me feels like a failure because I’m being told to step back.

I want to be indispensable. Essential. (Don’t we all?) The last thing I want is to be a disposable expense that can be trimmed.

Background (for contrast)

Upon graduation from college, I landed a job with a vibrant, fast-paced global brand. I held multiple positions in the company over my term of employment. I’d survive multiple layoffs and restructuring at my “big corporate” job. After ten years and thirty days, I left—on my own terms. I thought that was how my entire career would go—leave when I was ready to be done.

Nope.

At my second employer, I was the first hire made by the owners. Eventually, one owner left, and the remaining owner brought in the next generation as his succession plan. Literally—he hired his offspring. Plus, another former student. I was offered part ownership but declined because I didn’t want to be the “deciding vote” between the two younger principals.

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I should have seen the writing on the wall.

Actually, I did. I was miserable. I just wasn’t ready to leave.

As we were coming out of the pandemic, my position with this long-time employer was eliminated. After fifteen years, I had worked myself out of a job. I’d documented my role (so anyone could do it). And my tasks were either non-essential or could be easily absorbed into the roles of any of the several more recently hired full-time staff. So why did they need me?

Short answer: they didn’t. At 49 1/2, I was unemployed for the first time in my life.

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Silver Linings

I took the extra time that I suddenly had and poured it into writing my first novel. Then my second. And my third. I had a trilogy written in the twelve weeks that I was unemployed. I never would have been able to do that had I been working.

At the end of the twelve weeks, I began my new job (just my third employer since college) and started working 35-40 hours per week. This was in addition to my continued side hustle.²

When I signed with a publisher this last February—with the anticipation of book one being released later this year—my hours at my real job and my side hustle did not decrease. Needless to say, I’ve been feeling the strain.

And so has my marriage. My husband and I have had serious talks about our commitment to us. You’d think that with empty-nesting, we’d have more time for us, right? Not with my (basically) three jobs.³

We’ve been working on that. For example, last night we took a drive to his dad’s place to pick up something and ended up at DQ. Quality time. (I never say no to ice cream… or marionberry lemon drops.)

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Fast-forward to this week.

Based on “The Conversation” with my current employer, my hours are about to be reduced. Drastically. I’ll know more details by the end of this week.

Photo by Anita Jankovic on Unsplash

If you go back and read my daily notes from this week, including my daily 30for30 poems (like this one), you might notice that my typical glass-half-full mindset is tittering on the edge of the table. One errant bump of said table, and the glass will be fully empty. Contents spilled on the floor.

The past two nights, I haven’t felt like working through my publisher’s comments and copy edits on my manuscript. So after the DQ date with my hubby, I told myself to put on my big girl panties and get some work done.

I opened my manuscript and clicked the “pick up where you left off” link. My screen stopped at this comment⁴ from my publisher:

“This whole scene is just SO well done!!!!! You’ve outdone yourself here with capturing how this feels.”

A couple of comments later, my publisher wrote:

“I love this. Not only does it feel authentic but it resonates with me personally. This is the same advice I would give to myself or someone I care about.”

Now, Corey Smith may say that this positivity was just the confidence boost that I needed. And he’d be right. Luckily, not all her comments are so glowing, so no need to worry that it’ll go to my head. But I did need her affirmations to get through this week.

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Why the imposter syndrome?

1. I may consider myself a writer, but since I’m not (yet) published, I don’t have any evidence to point out that this is my truth;

2. My employer has told me that (basically) I’m not essential, which is making me feel like a failure; and

3. The nay-sayers (in my mind and my feed) are posing questions that are opening the door to self-doubt.

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So what am I going to do about it?

I’m going to go stand outside and take a deep breath. Then I’m going to hit publish. And hope that the Universe is just freeing me up so I can adjust my sails.

I made the above in Canva. (

Corey Smith

, can I now add graphic designer to my updated resume?)

Does this resonate with you? How do you get through your moments of self-doubt? Got any suggestions of uplifting reads I should check out? What’s your side hustle?

Leave me a comment. Go ahead! Blow up my comments. I double-dog dare ya.

Good Stuff

Here are some reasons why I wrote what I wrote in this newsletter.

1. Not Everybody Who Writes is a Writer -

   Corey Smith
   gave me a little dose of reality—great timing as it’s been a week I’ve been feeling a strong sense of the imposter syndrome. (It is a thing, Corey.) So, thanks… I guess. What Fred Basset wrote in response made the most impact: “Write because there are things inside you that need to be written out. Maybe someone will like it. Maybe not, but it will be real. Maybe that is enough.“

2. Stop Pretending To Be Something You're Not (and Start Being Who You Are) - It’s like the Universe and

   David McIlroy
   were speaking directly to me in this piece. He wrote, “Building trust and credibility with your audience by talking openly and honestly about what you’re currently going through.

   That’s how you develop a loyal following.” Okay… coming right up.

3. House of Grief -

   Jenna B. Neece
   also followed his advice—she talked openly and honestly about living with grief. So many poignant phrases that gave me pause. I have yet to experience the death of a parent as she has (and so many others have), but I know my time will come. And I’m not looking forward to it. I’ll hold on to her words until I need them.

4. Smuggler - This future (a place called the Dust Road) by

   Claudia Befu
   is a chilling and captivating CliFi read. A beautiful piece that did nothing to ease my sense of the imposter syndrome. I know, I know. I shouldn’t do the comparing game, but sometimes I can’t stop myself. I’m only human.

5. How To Cleanse Your Life With Unemployed Holy Water - Then I read

   Kristi Keller
   ’s open and honest essay about her past year and found yet another Substacker talking directly to me. Excuse me while I go outside and breathe…

1. Not entirely true. My BIL was killed in a motor vehicle accident earlier this year—not his fault. He was a kind, loving, gentle giant with the most generous heart. I know my SIL is struggling. I fear she is spending most of her time in the living room or the laundry room. I wish I knew how to help her find her way to the bedroom.

2. I was first certified to teach group fitness classes in the early 90s, during the step aerobic rage. Since 2006, I have been teaching between 3 and 6 classes a week in my little town. I’ve expanded my formats and currently teach senior cardio, pilates, barre, and yoga. Plus private lessons—mostly balance training. I average 7 hours a week between prep, set-up/clean-up, and teaching. That is on top of my “real job” and the time I’m putting towards completing my book (which I’m afraid to calculate).

3. I’m not the only one busy in our relationship. My husband has a 40+ hour/week sales job, plays soccer twice a week, has a fairly consistent workout schedule, and is in not one but two bands. Our issue of time together is not one-sided.

4. I did not add any extra punctuation to this quote.