Friday, November 16, 2012


At the suggestion of my brilliant friend, Sandy, I have chosen to blog for you, today.  Woo to the hoo, right?

I'm going to cut to the chase.  My husband was laid off today and I am NOT fucking happy about it.  If you're a frequent (or even occasional) reader of this blog, you may be acquainted with our tumultuous past three years. If not, here's a brief recap - in September 2009, right after his 41st birthday, my hubby was laid off.  We spent the next insanely difficult and trying years living on his unemployment, my meager savings, and food stamps.  Quelle fun, I can assure you. Then, in October 2011, just when we were at our wit's end and certain that we would have to return to NY and my mother's house, tails between our legs, he got a Hostess.  For one full year (plus an extra week or two), two college-educated, bright (albeit bi-polar: him, and clinically depressed: me) individuals were "gainfully employed".  Well, that's not entirely true, HE was gainfully employed, I remained, as I do at this very moment, a useless lump on the couch, biding her time, somehow making it through each day without downing a bottle of sleeping pills.  That is, until today.  Today, we woke up to discover that his company of employment, which has been struggling financially for months, was kaput, no more, a done fucking deal.  Which leads me to this conclusion: good things do NOT happen to good people, they happen to lucky people, fortuitous folks, the ones that the hand of fate has chosen to bestow happiness upon.

I know, things could be far worse.  We are, as far as I know, physically healthy.  We, as of this moment, have a roof over our heads.  We have each other.  But you know what?  Right now, at this very second, that is not enough.  I want my husband to be gainfully employed.  Hell, I want myself to be gainfully employed.  I want to continue to have the health insurance that we so desperately need in order for me to be able to get the therapy that I've been SCREAMING for for more than a decade.  I want a break...not for a year...but for enough time that we, two good souls, can truly pay it forward.  But, alas, how can one pay it forward when they cannot even afford to pay for themselves?

Please note, I am slightly inebriated as I write this.  At this moment, I am safe in my apartment, my husband nearby, unable to harm myself but nevertheless, I am slightly drunk.  If there is ever an appropriate time for such a state, I suspect now is it.

Not sure what the point of this is except to say that to everyone posting things on facebook and twitter about "woe is me, no more twinkies", I suggest you get your heads out of your proverbial asses and realize that the end of Hostess means that 18,500 people, including my husband, are now out of work, less than a week before Thanksgiving.  I suppose unless one has been faced with the trauma of unemployment, one may not know just how devastating, in every sense of the word, this is.  Sadly, it is a situation we are all too familiar with and one I would not wish upon anyone.  Take a moment to reflect on all you have.  Even if it doesn't seem like much, it may be more than your neighbor has, or the lady you pass at the grocery store, ashamed to pay with her EBT card, or the person who unintentionally cuts you off on the highway.  Be thankful for everything you have, however little it may be.  I am.

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