I was wronged.
Someone had taken wonderful, practically perfect me and put me in a position of discomfort.
I was scared, apprehensive and worried for my future. I still had not developed that inner trust in our abilities that resides within us all when faced with adversity. I thought all hope was lost and I was never going to be the same person again.
On the outside I kept a good facade, only showing my true feelings to those closest to me. But fear had its grip on me and I would not let it let me go. I held on to the fright as a badge of dishonor, my own woe-to-me moment as I wallowed more and more into self pity. Everyone kept telling me, take things in stride, all will work out, take it one day at a time.
The reality was I was facing losing my livelihood, for my job was on the chopping block, one of the many casualties of a changing workforce, a draining economy and an ever, evolving business model. This event caught me by total surprise because I never thought it would happen to me. The thought of having to start again, an overweight, balding man in my mid-forties, terrified me – I knew my way around my firm, it had been my home away from home for close to twenty years.
Were it not for what happened next, I would obliterate this time from my memory banks. July 2011 was not a great time. By August, I was in a deep depression. In mid August of that year, I started working on a logo (partially based on everyone’s mantra and partially based on a song I had heard
and mocked on TV during the late seventies sung by a Christian singer named Christy Lane) depicting the words One Day At A Time.
I replaced the word One with Juan and Juan Day At A Time was born. First I was going to write a book about job searches, but that idea fizzled as I researched blog sites and the power of social media, besides the whole job search issue was too close to home for me.
I started to blog. I started to write. I started to rant, I started to exorcise my soul from the darkness and embrace the light. I started to gain confidence, find humor, release my anxieties and focus on something else other than what I felt was impending doom – this was not going to beat me or drain me of my energies. Writing was not a toil, but rather a necessary tool, a coping mechanism and it became invaluable to my mental and emotional health.
I started to feel better and I began to see how many other talents were in my bag of tricks. I was not a Juan of all trades and a master of none, I had true, tangible, visible skills and I was selling myself short. I could do anything I wanted. I had people who were reading my entries, laughing, crying and asking me to write more. I built an audience.
The day I stopped worrying about my future was extremely liberating. I would land on my feet. I would endure. I would survive and I would thrive. I would hold my place on this platform and I would, if needed, find an alternate route for my livelihood.
By December, my blog was two months old, I found my Christmas spirit and I had moved into a different role within my firm. Most importantly, I was staying employed.
I entered the uncertainty, cliche in hand, one day at a time and came out the other end a more fulfilled and actualized person.
Tomorrow, all of those collective days mark the anniversary of two years where I have been writing my posts of prose, humor, poetry, personal shout-outs and sometimes simple, obscure thoughts that cross my mind and ultimately your page – I am a writer and there is absolutely no turning back from the craft I was born to develop.
Who knew that a perceived wrong could lead me to find the right avenue from which to flourish? Better yet, who knew that two years later I would still be on the write path?
Thank you for reading – it has been my pleasure.