Subpar Commitment

Yes I am one of those people that if I say I am going to do something…6 times out of 10 I usually find a way to back out of it.

That is a horrible thing to admit about yourself…but I feel the need to be honest today.

Why???

Because right now I am in a situation where I feel the pull of my inner self…telling me that although I had agreed to something if I am crafty enough…which the good Lord knows that I am… I will find a way out of it.

I am such “the grass is greener” person.

I think what I really need to do is take a BIG, HUGE step back and look at my situation from all sides.

Damn it!!! I hate thinking rationally.

The last day

It was a warm day, not so unusual, but it was the type of warmth that had people believing it was summer and not spring.

I had the day off from work, but it wasn’t going to be spent enjoying the warm weather.

Mom was out of the hospital and I told my dad and sister that I with the aid of my boyfriend and his car would take her to her first dialysis session.

She looked so frail walking the few short steps to the car, but this was my mom. The strongest woman I knew. She wasn’t frail she was just tired. Moms that do a lot for their family are often tired.

The dialysis center was housed a few blocks from the mall. Cool, the mall, I remember thinking. While she is having her session I can go shop, while Eric sleeps in the car.

I remember walking in with her, handing her over to one of the attendants, watching as the placed her in a chair. My Mom said that I didn’t have to wait, that I wouldn’t want to watch while they hooked her up.

I didn’t kiss her goodbye. A good daughter would have kissed their mother goodbye. Instead I waved and walked outside, lit a cigarette and headed for the car and the mall.

Thinking back I have no idea how long the session was…maybe an hour or two. I don’t even remember if I went to the mall or if we just sat in the car. I do remember when it was time to pick mom up she was the only one left at the dialysis center. All the other patients were gone. She was still sitting in her chair. A faint smile rose to her lips when she saw me.

“I’m ok” she said.

“Are you sure you are ok to go Mrs. Cox?” asked the attendant.

I immediately asked what happened. My mom’s reply cut off the attendant’s and she said ” I just got a little dizzy a few minutes ago when I tried to stand.”

I looked at the attendant who looked at my mom.

My mom smiled her brilliant smile, wobbled to her feet, with the help of the attendant and myself and said, “I just want to go home.”

Eric and I picked up some food along the way. Mom was quiet. When we got home Eric stayed in the car and I helped my mom inside and I sat down and watched her eat. She was still wobbly and she ate so little.

But she said, “I’ll be ok…I am ok.”

Mother’s know best. Never did it dawn on me that she could be wrong and that she was putting up a brave front.

I left my mom that night thinking of course she is fine, she’s mommy. My sister and I haven’t gotten married or had children…she is far too young to…

That was on May 17^th, 2000 on May 19^th she died of a heart attack while undergoing her second dialysis session.

With each passing year I miss her even more. With each heartbreak, and dilemma I yearn to have her here with me. There are times when I take comfort in the fact that my last words from my mom were words of comfort. I look back on them now and I realize that perhaps she wasn’t speaking them as if to say she will be ok, but to say that she was ok with dying. That she knew what was going to happen and that she had no fear.

Because that is who she was… a fearless, well of strength woman that took on every challenge that came her way with determination.

I am unlike her in so many ways…but I pray that I am like her in the ways that truly count. Like her in the ways that will help me overcome my challenges with the same fearless determination.

I love you and I miss you…always and forever.

Attention…

Attention is such an underrated drug. So sneaky and lethal, its essence wraps a cloak around you, constricting your thought process.

Not much else matters when a person has the attention of another or when a person is trying to gain the attention of another.

It becomes a one sided battle…you’re drowning in the attention you receive yet you feel as if you are hanging on a life preserver because you are trying to gain more and more and more.

That’s the way he is…???

The question was simple enough…maybe that was the problem…that it was too simple and it threw him…confused him.

The answer he gave back certainly threw me and confused me.

Either I don’t ask enough questions.

Or I ask too many.

It seems that I can’t win…because that is the way he is…

No tiptoeing  around it…just walk away…away…and away.

Pleasure and true happiness…

I need to find the road to pleasure and true happiness…While hundreds if not thousands hate what they do for a living I refuse to be one of them.

Lately I have been taking pleasure and true happiness in the little things… an afternoon spent reading, listening to my favorite song over and over again…laughing at a long ago joke.

I remind myself that life isn’t easy. I must focus. I must be smart. I must take my time…before I know it I will be on the road to pleasure and true happiness…

My chains made of fear

Change is what the world is made of.

As one door closes another will open.

The level of comfort will shift and you will be exposed to new things…new opportunities.

On one hand I am so blessed and so excited about a new job opportunity. But on the other hand I am

drowning in fear because the world I am about to enter is so new to me…

But at some point in life we all must encounter new things and new worlds.  I cannot be afraid…especially when I am on the verge of finally getting what I have been praying for.

I find that even though my friends and family, and even my new bosses believe in me it doesn’t mean much if I don’t believe in myself.

I am at a loss as how to find the confidence within myself.

I am at a loss as to why I don’t have any in the first place.

Note to readers…

“She’s wonderful; you’ll love her” is a novel that I am working on that is drawn from my life experiences with an added twist.

So for those that are friends and family…don’t believe everything I write.

HAPPY READING

She’s wonderful; you’ll love her…Part 2

As Mark continues to study my resume I allow my mind to drift off and I think of all of the things I need to do.

 

 

·         I need to close out my bank account before they take out anymore hidden fees.

 

·         Packing…I hate to admit it but it doesn’t look like I am going to be making rent this month. That makes 6 months that I am behind. And as sweet as my landlord is I want to be prepared when the eviction notice comes to me.

 

·         I need to find a new place to live. Ok I shouldn’t think about that because if I do I will start to cry and I can’t cry during an interview…not again.

 

·         Buy the cats food. I can’t forget that one.

 

“So Jade, your resume looks quite impressive. But at this moment I don’t have anything that I think you would be a fit for…”

Mark is still talking but I have plastered my sweet smile on my face and nod in understanding. He says something about calling me when they get anything in and I steel myself against saying “If you don’t have anything to send me out on then why did you waste my time?” But I don’t and when interviews go this way I never do. Because it is part of the process.

 

 

Maybe now is a good time to give you some background info on me. My name is Jade Michaels. I’m 29 years old and about say 10 months ago I did the unthinkable and I quit my job without a backup…Yes I know the horror. Especially because I had told myself, and anyone else that would listen, to never quit a job until you had a new one. But (and this will hopefully be the only time I mention this) I was going through a difficult period in my life and I was confused and frustrated. More like high on coke, confused and frustrated. I was going through a breakup (never an excuse, but damn it, that was the reason) I needed a few days off from work and the endless pressure. I swear on my Mom’s ashes I only meant for it to be a week. But like the recovering addict that I am I snorted one line, and that one became two, then three, then four. The next thing I knew I was snorting coke once the buzz of alcohol wore off. I snorted coke because it seemed like it was going to be a good day and why the hell not. I was snorting so I could forget my pain and my anger. When it was time for me to go back to work I was having a coke-filled moment and I sent my bosses a text message saying I quit. As lame as it sounds I just wanted a few more days for free flying and KNEW that if I had the responsibility of going to work over my head I wouldn’t be able to get high.

 

I always prided myself on being responsible when it came to my job.

 

Always and Never are two words that should be banished from the English language as we know them.

 

I would never quit.

I always put work first.

 

I can remember it like it was yesterday. I was lying in bed, with my legs propped up against the wall. My mind racing through all the things I would have to do at work and all the things I could do at home.

Calling my resident drug dealer/ex-boyfriend Vincent seemed so much more appealing than making a living for myself.

 

And maybe just maybe I would have been fine…I would have been in that coke-filled haze and not given a damn that I threw my life away…IF…Vincent had been able to score a hit for me that night instead of the weekend following. Maybe if I waited TILL after I had the coke in front of me to send the text I wouldn’t have sent the text because I would have seen the error of my ways…Not likely but it sounds good.

 

Without the coke in my system my head became clear and I realized what I did…my how…my when…and my what.

 

MY WHAT THE FUCK!!!

Before I sent an SOS call to Vincent I sent a simple text message to my two bosses…saying “I quit.” I think I might have also add an “I’m sorry” in there as well, but at the moment I can’t really remember. Then I quickly called Vincent and left a message.

About 10 minutes later I received a text from one of my bosses saying, “Quitting by text. That’s low.”

And that is how I ended my 8 year relationship with a company I had a love/hate relationship for. I believe it was two days later, when I was as clear headed as I was going to get that I summoned the courage and wrote an email begging for my job back.

To be honest a part of me really thought that maybe, just maybe I would be able to go back. But let us not forget that I had known these people for 8 years. Not only did I quit, I did it the night before I was due to come back to work AND I did it via text message. I should have been pleased that they didn’t straight up say “Fuck you.” No I was lucky enough to get a two page email stating that I did the deed and there was no going back. There was even a line in there about how unhappy I had been and that I was in a rut and I did the right thing.

So when Vincent finally came over with the coke I indulged in a way that I hadn’t since I was 18. Coke was breakfast, lunch, dinner and midnight snack. I washed my coke down with red wine, or vodka, or rum. I ignored my responsibilities to my cats and went back with Vincent to his place on the Lower East Side. For a whole week I was firmly encased in lala land. I knew what I was doing was deadly…but shit that was the point…I wanted to be dead.

 

 

 

She’s wonderful; you’ll love her…

As I sit here in the tiny cubicle space I wonder if Shelly really thinks I am wonderful. I mean she has just met me, not five minutes ago. She hasn’t really spoken to me. She has glanced at my resume, with glazed over eyes, like all recruiters do. The only words she has spoken to me are;

“Nice to meet you.”, “Well right now I don’t have anything, but let me introduce you to my co worker, Mark. He always gets stuff in for receptionist.”

 

Shelly wheels her chair over to Mark’s cubicle and shoves my resume in his face, even though he is on the phone, and has been on the phone since I walked into the back area of the office.

Workers Inc., what kind of name is that for an employment agency? The name doesn’t really infuse me with much hope. But at this point I keep telling myself that I don’t have anything to lose.

Sometimes I feel as if I have been to every employment, placement agency in the city. What is one more going to hurt? Maybe this will be the one that will get me the job I have longed for. Highly unlikely I think as I sit and look around once more.

 

I know that I shouldn’t judge a book by its cover…but since it is apparent that that is what recruiters do on a daily basis why not have a go at it.

 

The office is grimy…and I know that there is some odd odor, despite the fact that there are candles lit and air fresher’s plugged in. It is beginning to make me slightly ill. Metal fold-out chairs that belong to odd 1985 metal desk that all my teachers had back in grade school. The office looks as if it was set up for 12 recruiters but only two desk actually have people in them…Shelly and Mark…there wasn’t even a receptionist. Let me not forget that when I walked in I was told to write down my name, address, phone number, and whatever job I am looking for and the days I am available to interview…on paper that I had to provide…not a good sign.

 

Answering an ad in the paper is what brought me here. Fear is what is going to get me the fuck out. As a bad feeling starts to creep up my back I force myself to sit still and smile at Mark. He has finally gotten off the phone and is now studying my resume as if it is some interesting piece of material. Probably is. It is probably the first correct formatted resume these two have ever seen.

 

“So, Janey, wher-“

“Jade. My name is Jade.” I say firmly.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Jade. Jade, where are you from?”

This question always seems to throw me for a moment or two. Why? Because (a) my address is on the resume, (b) my address is on that bullshit application I wrote, (c) does it really fucking matter whether or not I was born and raised in NY

 

“I was born and raised in The Bronx. I am currently living in Queens.” I answer in my sotto- professional voice.

“Ahhh, do you live deep in Queens?” ask Mark

Again, I know that somewhere in a proper office of recruiters and placement agencies this question will seem important. But coming from this place, with the funk and uncomfortable chairs, and 1985 computers I feel as if there could be…shit, should be more important things that we talk of…such as…whether or not these two actually have jobs to send me on.

I want to answer “Let me worry about the commute.” But instead I simply say, “No. I am twenty minutes from Grand Central.”

“Ahhh,”

Yeah…I’m waiting as well for more to come from his mouth but nothing does. Mark goes on staring at my resume and for a moment I wonder if he can read.

I’m tired and I sound like a broken recorded. But I have to keep going forward. Otherwise I will just sit here in my apartment, filled with trash and boxes, waiting for the day that the eviction notice comes and I have to get out.

Everyone has told me to let go of the fact that I quit my job without a backup. And even though I have made peace with my decision potential employers see it some sort of RED FLAG. Never mind the fact that I was with said employer for nearly 8 years and worked my way up the ranks with hard work.

I will not live down the last two weeks of my employment.

If I knew it was going to be this hard, yes I would have thought before I quit…but who knows I might have still done it. I was so messed up back then and my mind and heart needed a break. I needed to get out. And now all I want is to get in…get into a position…be among the working class, pay my bills, have money for food…I just want to live my life without having to make excuses for how I acted in the past.

Damn it…all I want is a second chance…that is all anyone wants when the make a mistake…a chance to prove that they have learned their lesson.