Dust Yourself Off and Try Again

Transparency: I’m having a shit year. Now, please note, I try to be as optimistic as I can. I’m a make-lemonader-and-put-some-gin-in-it type of girl.

So, for context, I started out the year on a tropical island where I balled my eyes out once a day because well, I was in paradise for the wedding of my best friend. But I was single at 31 with only two teenager cats to show for it all.

Then I got my period on the plane ride home. That explains all the crying.

I returned to my real life and started what I hoped was my dream job. I *thought* I was going to be a writer for a branding agency. Nope, turns out they hired me to manage their marketing efforts. Disclaimer, I have no traditional marketing training. Sure, I have written content for the purpose of marketing for years. I have managed social media campaigns for various companies and organizations. But, truth bomb, I just hate worrying about analytics. I just don’t care. Yes, they can provide tremendous value to know if your content is doing what it is supposed to but I. Just. Don’t. Care.

I started this job determined to make it work. And there were some really remarkable things I learned about writing, business, and agency life that I will carry with me. And I tried, hard. I sucked up my disdain for numbers and tried to synthesize it all. I tried to step up in meetings. I tried to be a marketer even though I had no tangible idea what that meant.

At an event I met a man, and I thought “Well shit! This is too good to be true. A cute dude in real life. My almost dream job. Perhaps this is my year.”

Just kidding!

I got about a month of optimism out of it. I went on some dates and had some enjoyable physical time with this human. I thought our comparable humor was spot on and it didn’t bother me one bit that he was two years younger than me. Then I got a text message where he told me he probably didn’t have time for me that week because he had a lot going on and wanted to go rock climbing. Ah, shit. I don’t know… In my experience if you are into something, you make time (even just a little). So, like that on one of the few snowy days in Seattle the potential of this individual was gone. Poof.

That really bummed me out. I had given up online dating because I have this stupid notion that I’ll met someone in my real life. But, in your 30s your options start to shrink and your couple-friends are not very good at helping you meet the man of your dreams when everyone is home by 8:30 on Friday nights. So, alas, I reactivated Tinder. And then I saw this dummy on it. And that’s the thing. Even though we were fairly compatible he just thinks he can do better than me.

So, whatever. Fuck him.

Then I turned 32 and my new boss didn’t even remember, even though for at least two weeks I had been reminding the whole team that my birthday was coming at least once a day.

And then, my cat Tuesday got sick. This little energy beam of my life went from howling at me in her little voice to hovering over her water bowl for hours unable to drink. I did things with needles I never thought I could do with the foolish hope that she would bounce back. I had to make the first adult decision in my 32 years to let her go. It was by far, the worst choice I have ever had to make.

And my almost dream job sent my flowers, and I cried and tried to be thankful for the nearly 13 years we had spent together. I was thankful for the many moves between apartments, cities and states we had shared. I still walk in the door and exclaim “Kitties!” even through it’s just the giant ginger left.

So, shit my cat died and the boy didn’t pick me. Then, last week another wonderful thing happened. I got laid off. I am basically a walking Best Coast song. Yep, clearly crushing this year. It would have been fine, the layoff, but some of the feedback was a little harsh so naturally I left with the taste of a very, sour gin-less lemon in my mouth.

Yesterday, my former boss called me to inform me that the business was actually closing. They had lost their main client and everyone got laid off too.

Why am I telling you this? At this point, I’m sure all of one people are reading it (it’s me, self. It’s me). Well, I’m not really sure. I need to get it out. I am still hopelessly optimistic. (Really, my future knuckle job-stopper tattoos read “Half full.”) I just have to keep moving forward.

We have to keep our hearts open for love because try as you might, it will happen when you least expect it and it will be worth every moment you waited. We have to try our best at our almost dream jobs because even it it’s not perfect there are little nuggets we can keep. We have to be thankful for the little creatures that kept us company for all the hard- and wonderful times. We have to keep making lemonade because dammit, Tuesday would yell at us if she knew we were sitting around wallowing.

So, if anyone is reading this. Salute. Here’s to now. I have no idea where I’ll go next and thats kind of exciting.