Nowhere To Go

It was cold this morning, and my car required cleaning off for the first time since October. I did it in my normal half-ass way and then leaped inside. Still shivering, I put the car in first gear and pressed the gas. Nothing happened.

The heater was running, it had been going strong for the past five minutes. It looked like for whatever reason the car was running on the battery and not on the engine at the moment, silly me. So I restarted it. Click, click, click, nothing.

I tried again. Same result. After about ten more tries I remembered what my fiance had said at some point in the past about not wanting to drain a car's battery by trying to start it repetitively. Oops. What was I supposed to do?  It took me a second to realize the answer - nothing.

A mere month ago  I would have been getting my car towed and preparing to take the two hour public transit trip into work at the Shattuck Hospital. I worked at the Kitty Dukakis Treatment Center  as a clinician, and it was the first job in my life I actually went to responsibly. Sure I had held jobs before, but I coped with them by calling in sick at least once every month or so in order to recharge my batteries. Not at Kitty; I went in blizzards and I went when my long time friend, depression, tried to keep me in bed.

Today I had the luxury of a surplus of time and a lack of obligations. I called my fiance, was told he'd look at it when he got home and went inside. No need to call AAA, if he couldn't figure it out over the weekend I'd call them Monday. What do I need a car for anyways? The only place I go everyday is the gym, and my body could probably use a break for a day or two; I've been working it pretty hard. Gotta look good in that wedding dress.

This is just one example of the many ways in which my life has changed drastically in a very short period of time. I went from being a full time worker whose presence mattered every day to multiple colleagues and clients to an out of work loaf whose absence isn't noticed by anyone. I could stay in bed all day and no one would care. Back when I was working full time that would have sounded like a dream come true. It got so old having people wanting things from you, needing things from you. Now that it's gone I appreciate what I had.

A purpose. I had somewhere to go everyday, people who counted on me, and people who needed me. I was earning my way in society and helping others at the same time. I had a job!

What is the first question you ask somebody when you meet them, besides their name? I'm guessing some variation of "What do you do?" or "Where do you work?" Our society puts an enormous amount of importance on our occupation. It's more than just a job, for many people it becomes their identity.

So what happens when you strip someone of that identity? Apparently long, drawn out blog entries about car trouble.

They say that when one door closes, another one opens. After learning I was being laid off in a month, I didn't see any opening for me. After a couple weeks of moping I realized I would have to find my own door push it open.

I went back to a manuscript I had set aside for almost a year, all about life at a drug treatment center. This would be my window. I would finish it, edit it, publish it, and achieve a long time dream of writing a book.

 It isn't about the money, lord knows this won't be a profitable endeavor; it is about the accomplishment. It is about rebuilding a sense of self-worth and building a new identity. It is about finding someplace to go.