Losing It

Welp, in this week's record of the social experiment that I call life, let me drop another shitstorm in your lap. After being blessed with a kickass job that I adore for the last two months, spending my healthy days  immersed in challenging and fun work, while surrounded by incredibly cool and intelligent coworkers; I was suddenly (at least to me) laid off. In perhaps the most considerate and kind way possible, I was given the difficult news by my boss, who did her very best to soften the blow as I did my very best not to start bawling as I packed up my personal items.

Like Adele said, "shit happens". And getting laid off is shit, especially when you can't hide behind anger as you try and cope with the sadness. But all I feel is sadness - I understand how the industry works, and that the last one in is the first one to leave. I'm honestly not mad at all; I get why it happened, and don't blame anyone for it. I'm just profoundly disappointed that I didn't have the chance to grow in the company, to fall even more in love with the work, and to really sink my teeth into quickbooks and web design. Also, I am going to miss the hell out of my coworkers.

Of course, the rest of my life persists in limbo. I don't know what will happen with my health, and I don't know how my next job will handle my illness. I know that, after sitting at home for the last two days (cycling in and out of self-pity), that I HAVE to work. Staying at home and collecting disability and unemployment may be a choice I have, but it cannot be the answer. I have to be able to put my brainstuff to use, or I will go nuts. 

And I know that my skills and experience can speak for me during future interviews. But inevitably, I will have to explain myself again, and deal with the possibility of a seizure at a brand new job, surrounded by brand new people. I hate the thought of having to answer for a medical condition that I struggle to be able to explain, and that I don't understand myself. I don't want to have to tell someone that there's something wrong with me, but I can't absolutely confirm what it is. It's bad enough to have to feel and deal with those things myself, it's entirely different to have to communicate them to strangers.

But my health is getting better, and I suppose I am lucky for it. Ironically, the last seizure I had was a very scary one on tuesday night, but I haven't had anything since. This makes me feel optimistic, since both my headaches and seizures are remarkably less frequent, suggesting a possible tapering off that might allow me to continue to lead a somewhat normal life.

 But having to work AND GO TO WORK with a chronic and unpredictable illness is incredibly challenging. I have been trying to figure out a way to successfully negotiate the demands of work with the demands of my illness for months, and I thought I was making pretty good progress. But now, having to start all over again and find a new job, I feel like all the progress I made is nonexistent. Beginning over again is a formidable challenge, and one that I have no choice but to take on, if for nothing else than to save myself from going completely insane (and taking the cat to crazy town with me).