September 30, 2014

There is in every true woman's heart, a spark of heavenly fire, 

which lies dormant in the broad daylight of prosperity, 

but which kindles up and beams and blazes in the dark hour of adversity.

- Washington Irving

My mother sent me that quote printed on a small square of paper in a plain white envelope shortly after I found out that my position had been eliminated. 

It buoyed my spirits at the time.

And some days...when I read it again, it helps to keep me hopeful.

I am a strong woman. I come from strong stock. I had a good role model.

I have been through a lot in the last few years.

But I've always persevered.

Always come out of whatever it was...a bit wiser and perhaps even stronger...and definitely smarter.

It's tough to admit it right now.

I am scared.

Really scared.

About the future.

It's September. Fall again. The time when Harry and I first came to stay in Mom's house.

It's been more than a year since I lost my job.

I've interviewed for only two positions during that time.

I was hired for neither.

"The longer you are unemployed, the harder it is to become re-employed."

I read that bit of wisdom somewhere in the tomes of articles, information, web pages and postings that I have absorbed and filed away over the past year.

It echoes loudly in my brain every day.

Ego is one of the last things that I should be thinking about right now, but admittedly, this entire process has damaged my ego considerably.

I believe that I have always been blessed. But I have always worked hard.  And I have always succeeded at whatever it is that I was doing.  Except this. 

Finding a job.

Even though I've only been with two employers in the 30 years of my career, I was always recognized for my talent, my skills, hard work, imagination and tenacity to succeed. I didn't have to pursue that recognition, it came to me.

Promotions, advancement, interview requests, offers from other organizations...

This past year, I have felt like I've fallen off the planet...in excruciatingly slow motion.

Isolated. 

Anonymous.

Uncertain.

And scared.

I've heard less and less from colleagues and friends over time.

I realize that they have their own lives, their own challenges, things that keep them busy.

It's up to me alone to find a job. I know that.

But the loss of that community - being so separated from what my life was for the past 30 years - has magnified those feelings of isolation, anonymity, uncertainty and fear.

I have a small dry erase board on my wall, to the right of my computer screen. 

Some weeks ago, I wrote this on my "To Do" list:

Be Grateful!

Stay Positive!

Pray, Pray, Pray!

Be Faithful!

Believe!

As far as I know, I remain in contention for an open position of Senior Picture Editor, although I haven't been contacted about an interview or next steps.

The position was posted September 8.

That...is incredibly discouraging.

I am wholly qualified for the position.

I know, having interviewed and been considered for a similar position there before, that their process can be excruciatingly slow. 

There remains a flicker of hope...

I know that there is a fine line between aggressively pursuing a position...and being just plain annoying.

It's difficult to know just how aggressive to be?

I applied originally with a cover letter and resume.

I worked on that cover letter for days. I thought it was really strong.

I confirmed with a colleague that I was "in consideration"...along with many, many others that I am certain are very qualified candidates as well.  

I waited.

I sent a handwritten photographic note card (with my own photography) to the person in charge of the hire.

I thought it might help me stand out a bit from the crowd.

I waited.

I communicated with a friend (and colleague) who works there. I was encouraged to write another cover letter emphasizing certain skills and experience.

I crafted another cover letter. I thought it was really strong.

I sought out personal recommendations from colleagues that I had met and worked with at the judging of the Pictures of the Year International earlier this year, my last real contact with working colleagues.

I posted those three recommendations to my LinkedIn profile.

I waited.

I added those same recommendations to a second page, attached it to my new cover letter and sent it directly to the person in charge of the hire via email.

I waited.

I am still waiting.

I am absolutely certain that I would be a good fit there, that I would create content with distinction and contribute to the success of the organization. 

That I would quickly become a valued member of the visual team.

At the moment, I feel entirely powerless to make that happen.

For lack of a better comparison and coming from the mother of a 4-year-old...like a Who, down in Who-Ville.

On a small speck of dust...on a very soft clover...

Dr. Seuss fans?

On the fifteenth of May, in the Jungle of Nool, 

In the heat of the day, in the cool of the pool,

He was splashing...enjoying the jungle's great joys...

When Horton the elephant heard a small noise. 

"I say!" murmured Horton, "I've never heard tell

of a small speck of dust that is able to yell..."

And yell they did.

"We are here! We are here! We are here! We are here!" They cried out in fear.

Well...

"I am here! I am here!" I am here!" I am here!"

It. Is not. A good feeling.

.....

In the meantime, Harry keeps me on an even keel.

There is nothing in this world that compares to being that boy's mother!

Harry and I were in a line of cars at Starbucks waiting for our cappuccino and Madeleine cookies (his favorite, he calls them “coffee cookies”).  

I read an email about something that made me very frustrated.  I quietly, very much under my breath, said, “Damn.”  

Harry responded immediately, “Mommy, you are not supposed to say that, it’s a bad word.”

I quickly agreed with him saying, “Yes, I’m sorry Sweetie.  You are right, I shouldn’t have said it.”

Harry followed, “If you say it again, I’m going to have to tell your Mommy.”

Harry and I were driving home from school one afternoon and were we talking about what he was calling me.

He has always called me "Mommy" but lately had started using "Mom."

The Wisconsin "o" is a really BIG vowel and can sound like a not-so-pleasant braying lamb.

I told Harry that I thought he should call me "Mommy" or "Mother" but that I didn't really like being called "Mom" all that much.

I went on to say, "I'll be your Mommy or your Mother, but not your Mom."

Harry burst into tears and was immediately crying inconsolably.

Sometimes, it's easy to forget that he has just a 4-year-old brain.

"Sweetie, why are you crying?" I asked him in an ever-so-gentle voice.

"What's wrong?"

He answered haltingly, through tears streaming down his cheeks, gasping for air between his every word, "You said that you're not my Mom!"

"Oh...Sweetie."  I reassured him. "I am your Mom...your Mommy...and your Mother."

I guess we'll save that conversation for another time.

And just the other day, driving to school, I was talking to Harry about one thing and another.

Just chatting away.

He listened quietly for awhile and then rather emphatically said, "What in the world are you talking about?

.....

I'll write more soon.

I promise.

There's a lot to tell.

But right now, I'm going to a movie matinee.

I could use a little escape from reality.

Bee Balm leaf in it's last transition.

Fall colors.

The Maple.

My 4Runner after 20 minutes in the driveway.