Another Day in the Trenches

I had a bad day today and I may, or may not, get over it.  Perhaps a bottle o'wine will help.  Perhaps I shouldn't put myself through that misery tonight...I'll feel worse in the morning.

I supposed the day started out benignly enough...if you can consider getting up at 7am benign.  I personally do not.  Despite the offensively early start to my day, I looked forward to the redemption of the leadership program which I hoped so much for.  This  month's class was on personal branding and relevant particularly during my job search process.  The first part of the morning was good, if not invigorating.  Lunch-time came and I felt as though I might actually see this thing through.  Sometime after lunch the project groups reconvened and here is where the wheels fell off the track.

During the morning, I supposed I could tolerate the lack of meaningful conversations with anyone; after all, I was still half asleep myself.  The women at my table lived near each other and had carpooled, but I thought it was good that I was sitting with people I didn't really know.  I was making an effort.  Lunch came and as many of us sat outside in the sunlight, the longest conversations I had was as follows:

me:  Dave,* what do you do for the XYZ Foundation*?

Dave:  blahblahblah Grant Administration.

me: Oh, cool, do you have any job opening right now?

Larry:  You haven't found a job yet?  That sucks.

Dave (cynical smirk): No.  Definitely not.

*Names changed to protect the identity of the guilty parties.

Yep.  Riveting, helpful conversation.  One of the ladies who tried to get me to stay in the program said that my classmates would be there to help me, cheer me on and support me.  I must have exceptionally high standards of what supporting one another is, because this did not reflect true support to me.  

During the project group time, we attempted to establish what our project would be.  I like to consider myself a creative dissenter, and dissent on the basis that it provides new perspectives and challenges the status quo of the group.  As an "inspirational type" in the DiSC assessment, this is often what I do.  It is not meant to be blatantly and badgeringly argumentative or confrontational, but I believe healthy conflict and debate is well, just that, healthy.  What if no one ever disagreed with anything?  Where would great ideas have come from?  Plus, who wants to be a lemming, following the lemming leader off the edge of the cliff?  But we are far and few between.  Point in case, there are only three of us inspirational types out of 55 individuals. That's roughly 5.45% of us.  

But when I put my unique talents to use, I get the sense that this is unacceptable.  And finally someone pointedly said to me in a tone of frustration, "You have to realize we are not going to change the world."  What? Really?  Why not?  I personally set out to change the world every day!  Perhaps that's why I'm an inspirational type and she is...well, defeatist from what I can tell.  I  noted my disagreement verbally.  Long story short, I don't believe this, nor my penchant for "creative dissension" was taken well by anyone.  In fact, I got the cold shoulder from the group after that.  Odd, cold stares and all.

It was no wonder that the remainder of the time I wanted to run out of there to burst into tears.  I'm unaccepted in most places these days.  Like a credit card, constantly being declined because I no longer have credit.  That's me.  I left in such a hurry that I left my purse behind.  And so, I found myself at home, sans purse, keys and iPhone (which I no longer use as my primary phone so it's okay).  I indeed burst into tears and random people walking down the street would stop and ask me what's wrong.  I couldn't maintain my composure or my dignity.  I have none left.  My purse is nowhere to be found.  I can't get in touch with the program leader to see if she found it.  If she did, she hasn't contacted me about it and I'm not sure which is worse.  

I decided that I couldn't spend one more minute with these small creatures called adults.  I skipped the St. Patty's Day after party at the lamest bar in the city.  I didn't hear from Boston, as promised.  Visitor man, while responsive the last few days is barely responsive and communicative.  But, we saw that coming from a mile away, right?  Right.  

And so, I sit in my pj's with my cats, a bottle of (as yet, unopened) wine and movies I've seen countless times.  The sun fading quickly and I am reminded once again that my life has been turned on its ear; many friends long lost to the ever turning tides of my "situation" and I continue to deal in euphemisms to describe the personal hell I'm going through.  The sting of losing friends, money, confidence, and my life as I once knew it, all sinking in, slowly and painfully.  The healing process has yet to begin.