What goes up....

Isn’t it always when things are going well that everything starts crashing in around you? 

It isn’t that my life has been some sort of amazing fairy tale about living the dream life in the dream apartment with the dream guy, the dream job and (clearly if you follow this blog you know) having the dream body. No, no! Au contraire! Rather I have a relatively normal life, a small apartment, am single and work my ass off to achieve some semblance of the dream body. 

That’s right, Giselle, watch out. At this rate I am about 6 months away from…well, needing completely different genes to compete with you, quite frankly. BUT don’t underestimate a girl on a mission! 

Anyway, so life hasn’t been perfect, but I’d been trudging along, doing the best that I can. 

Things were going pretty well and last Tuesday (St. Patrick’s Day! Woot!) was my birthday. And (sorry CF coaches) when your birthday is on St. Patrick’s Day, you are required by law to go out, drink green beer and make everyone jealous that their birthday isn’t as nearly as awesome. I even took the day after my birthday off – I had some carry over days to burn and why risk having to work hungover?

And then, Thursday came. 

I went to CF in the AM as usual and completed the workout. While we were stretching, someone made the comment “You’re 27 and not married yet?!?!” 

Um, no. No I’m not, thank you very much. I didn’t realize it was such a big deal, but hey, thanks for making me feel good about it.

So then I go home and get dressed all snazzy-like for work (because if you have to be at work, you might as well look snazzy while doing it) and I actually made it into work a little bit early. So I go to my desk, like always, start answering emails, like always, and just generally go about doing my job.  And then…

“Shannon, can I see you in the conference room for a minute?”

It was my boss. The room she wanted to see me in was the room that they take you for bad news. My stomach sank. 

The next ten or so minutes are a bit of a blur, but the cliff’s notes version is: I was laid off.

Not fired. Laid off. There’s a difference. 

YET, while there is a difference, it didn’t really make that punch to my stomach feel any better. 

The woman who came in to our office to tell me the bad news (they actually have people whose job it is to fire you! I’m sorry -to lay you off (because there’s a difference)) was attempting to make me feel better by asking about my “support system.”

“Do you live alone?” she asked in what is quite frankly an annoyingly perky voice to hear right after you find out that your position with a company is no longer needed.

“Yes. Yes I do.” Can I just leave, or do I have to sit here and put up with this even though I no longer have a job?

“Oh. Well…that’s nice,” she says and then perks up again, “do you have a boyfriend?”

FOR THE LOVE OF PETE!! REALLY? Was EVERYONE sent to Earth today to make me feel bad about being single? I’ve already had to RSVP to four weddings this summer as a “nope, I’ll just be coming all by lonesome. Got nobody to come with me.” 

Clearly, the blow of losing one’s job isn’t painful enough, so they have to point out other ways that your life is inadequate. 

“No…no I don’t have a boyfriend.” Scowl.

“Oh. Well,” she perks up and says (I am not making this up) “maybe now is a good time to, you know, find one!”

Um, excuse me?

That seems like an excellent idea. I’ll just march on down to the unemployment office and give all of the unemployed fella’s my best come hither “I’m-unemployed-too” stare. Because, really, who wouldn’t find that to be an attractive quality?

I think my blank stare and lack of response must have seemed encouraging because she then said to me, “I don’t know if you work out or follow a diet, but now is an excellent time to start watching those things,” and she hands me a pamphlet with nutrition information and work out guides.

This has to be some sort of joke. Do I look like I don’t work out or follow a diet? No really, do I? Because if this woman had to make that comment, then I had no reason to be on cloud nine a couple of weeks ago. Then, all of my food measuring and early morning CrossFit sessions aren’t working. Then why am I trying so hard when clearly I am not getting results?

And so, the downward spiral went. Down and down I went on my single (and apparently soft and out of shape) spiral. I rode that spiral hyperventilating all the way back to my (small) apartment, wallowed there for a few hours, took a trip farther down the spiral when I went for a run on the trail (running while crying is not highly recommended), came back to my apartment and kept the wallowing spiral going while I answered the bazillion “Um, you are not at work, were you laid off?” texts I’d received. 

And then you know what I did? (Once again, sorry CF coaches!) I drank. Noooo, not alone. I hadn’t quite reached that level of rock bottom. I did my drinking with a friend.

But while I was imbibing in a few, I was able to put things in perspective. Did I love that job? No. It was making me a giant ball of stress. Did I need that nutrition handout? No! I don’t! Do I feel bad about not having a boyfriend? Well, not usually, but since it was rubbed in my face so many times I sort of still did….but I’m human. And had a bad day. So give me a break.

And that goes to you too, Universe. I would like you to give me a break, please. Perhaps while I am gainfully unemployed we can achieve my perfect Giselle body so that when I once again have a job, I will be more attractive to all the fellas (and then I'll dazzle them with my wit and mind, of course). And not just the unemployed ones, either…

I think it will be a little bit before I am able to hit cloud nine again. It was nice while I was up there, but the crash down to Earth was a bit of a doozy. But, as they say, onward and upward! It’s time to take the next big step.