The "Keeping On"

Feeling things fall apart--the literal crumble in your hands as you try to hold together the thing you've worked so hard to create or sustain--pushes aside all other physical sensations, leaving only the effects of gravity to deal with as the bits of your prized work fall, settle...

And what to do then? Pick up the pieces? Some are too small to be seen. It's impossible to recreate what was.

But I'm not sure I want to recreate that anymore.

It's been tough going since first losing my job almost three weeks ago. Lots of job searching, crying, anxiety, budgeting... fear. Fear of The Unknown.

Now what's interesting is that all of us face The Unknown in measured amounts each day, like it or not. We can only plan so much of our days. The Unknown is always there, despite our best intentions and sometimes *in spite* of our best intentions.

So The Unknown has slammed into my semi-planned life like a steel wrecking ball and I'm dealing with the aftermath of this unplanned demolition. Initially it's very easy for people on the outside looking in to say "everything happens for a reason," "keep on keeping on," and "the only way to go now is up," and other tropes bearing similar messages of silver linings that are just beyond the vista of a person who has just been shaken at her core.

Silver linings aren't easily accessible when The Unknown is still a tempest brewing overhead.

Taking the time in these past few weeks to assess the damage, take action on what I can, and consider my next steps has forced me to reexamine my wants and needs.

I'm not trying to pick up the pieces. I don't need to. I'm taking an anthropological look at my own history to learn about myself and the way I was living my life. I'm looking at the pieces of my former life--my work, what I did, how I felt about it, and if there's something I could do better. This isn't the solution to my joblessness or whatever, but it's a method to (hopefully) help myself come out on the other side of this with a healthier and happier life... I'm seeing things about my pace, my schedule, my commute, my sleep, my eating, my exercising, and my personal time that could change for the better. And now is the opportunity to make those kinds of changes. I may not be able--and it may not be necessary--to make changes to every element I've identified as a candidate for change.

But this is the keeping on.