The Midlife Debutante Random Thoughts Vulnerability as Kryptonite for Strong Women

Vulnerability as Kryptonite for Strong Women


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If you’ve been following my blog, you know I unexpectedly lost my job. Am I the first to experience this? Heck no. During the pandemic, the economy, the job market, so many variables have created adversity for many. I don’t dwell there, in a place of “adulting is hard”. I live in a state of “oh yay… here we go again. Buck up buttercup.”

After being unemployed for a month, and completing several projects to keep the cash flow, well, flowing, I’ve started to assess some things. Specifically, my Moxy. Is it gone? Nope. Did it take a hit? Yep. Am I being my most powerful self right now? Nope.

To be clear, I have been hustling! Staying very busy. Doing the mental work to keep myself on track. I broke 200 CVs submitted this weekend. Ten interviews so far. Only two have come back to notify that they went with another candidate. But then again, most prospective employers don’t bother to notify candidates that were disqualified. I get that.

Am I in a state of despair? Nope. Panic? Nope. Discomfort? Yep. Concern? You bet. I know there is a great opportunity out there for me. Mad skills and a long history of providing results for clients and employers. I have confidence in the foundation of my career. And my talent.

My boyfriend Brent, my best friend Diane, and my sister Kim… well, they know what is really going on in my head. And I am pretty grateful to have people in my life that get it. Listen to me spin my mental tires (sorry guys) and elevate me with simple acts of giving a sh*t. They are appreciated deeply, more than I can express right now.

But something is out of place. Like, if I was an engine I would say that there is this sound under the hood. Something I can’t see, but I hear it. It’s a sound that isn’t so much of a warning, but a call to action. I feel something is off. Something needs to be tweaked because there is a little less torque in my personality right now.

Bad Things Suck (And Other Obvious Shots to Your Confidence)

It happens; that life thing. The unpredictable flow of positive and negative chapters, and scenes that sum up your life on this planet. Yep, bad stuff isn’t unique to me. I know that. And I have also had good things happen several times in my life. Never easily, however; usually the result of my own backbreaking hard work, stubbornness, and resilience.

Bad stuff happens. To everyone. It could be a bad month, a week, several months, or years. But in the great mystery of the Universe, we are taught to have faith that bad things can’t last forever. The balance of good and bad. We have faith that eventually, the pendulum will swing back into your favor. Or at the very least, normalcy.

It’s tempting not to take a cumulative look at bad sh*t that happens to you. Create a narrative and a list. I’ve got a list (boy do I ever). And hey, I have a witness! Preach Diane! My poor BFF has ridden every chapter and adversity with me. But like she says… my life can be better than reading a tabloid. Funny. She’s not being mean, and she’s not wrong.

Sometimes it can feel like life is an uphill road. But selectively so, for lucky folks like me. And therein lies the reality check. Am I alone in experiencing this kind of disruptive experience? Nope. Have other people experienced far worse? Yep. Something my sister shared with me tonight, put a lot into perspective.

She too was unexpectedly unemployed. At the hands of a very exploitative and abusive employer. Who actually tried to physically assault her. Katie didn’t press charges (but could have). When she was released, it was before the end of her probationary period. And that meant NO unemployment qualification. My sister also experienced an injury to her knee. There she was, on crutches, no E.I. and driving the Canadian equivalent to Doordash, to make her bills.

Reality check! Holy crap! She did it by the way. She made sh*t happen because she is a bad a$$. And there I was complaining that my E.I. benefits didn’t cover all my bills?!?! I was humbled.

But even with that perspective check, some self-compassion still whispered in my ear. Hey… it’s been less than a year. You dissolved a ten-year relationship. Moved to a strange city where you knew no one at all. You started dating (with some bad and frankly scary results).

You moved to a neighborhood that is sketch, where you hear gunshots almost every weekend. You lost someone you loved so much, and watched her suffer from Stage Four cancer. While you could do nothing but cry for her (and your cousins). You spent your first Christmas alone. You sacrificed so much for your company, only to be discarded with the rest of the staff that made that merger and acquisition possible (with very hard work and extremely long hours).

But did you die? No. But in the past year, on the thrive versus survive scale? It was more acts of emotional and situational survival. Still standing… but the last year (with few exceptions) has really sucked.

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Where is the Normal Life Insulated from Adversity?

Is it wrong to want normalcy? The boring life of predictability? There is part of me that craves that life story so much. An intuitive male friend once told me something insightful. Yep, men know stuff too. Anyhow, he said something like this:

“Even if a normal, uneventful life presented itself, that doesn’t mean that you are suited to it. You are adventurous, risk taking, dynamic and creative. You aren’t going to walk a conventional path because you aren’t conventional”.

Not going to lie; my response was “F-YOU!” Not saying he was wrong. Typically, if you get that response from me, you probably are right. But I’d rather not acknowledge that until I have had time to process it. The truth of it; whether I find it comfortable or not. And (because I am me), the more I reject your logic upon receipt, the more likely it is that you are 100% right.

But I’d rather not add insult to injury and admit that at the moment. Thank you. I can only handle so much blunt logic directed at my foibles at one time. Vulnerability makes me feel, well, vulnerable. Weak. Deficient. Still capable to be sure. This girl doesn’t curl into a ball and quit. It’s not in my DNA… or I would have given up so many times in my past. I am titanium. But the dent still hurts.

And the fact that I took a dent at all? That makes me hate myself more than a little. I’m supposed to be stronger than that. I’m 48. I’ve battled through big disruptive messy things that seem to paralyze some people; not me. I hate the weakness of it! I hate vulnerability. It makes me angry to see it expressed by myself, in my own life. But I am sensitive, nurturing, and respectful of the vulnerability that others express? I’ll comfort and help you if I care about you.

But I have none of that empathy for myself. I’m cannibalizing myself for allowing this to happen. As though somehow, an unexpected twist in the timeline was within my control. Logically, I know this is bullsh*t. Emotionally, like most bad things that disrupt my flow, I am 100% blaming myself.

I’d like a less exciting life, please. One of those predictable and boring ones I sometimes see on TV. How I have craved that existence my entire life. Honestly! At the heart of me is a peaceful soul that craves simplicity, affection, stability, laughter, and the rewards of making responsible choices. Even when I do consistently do that, it seems there is far more adventure and coping in a constant state of “oh great, the rug got pulled out from me again”. And then the veritable response “buck up buttercup… kick that resilience into high gear and fix yo sh*t!”.

It’s not in my DNA to accept defeat. Or to look to someone else to solve my problems. I don’t curl up in a ball, or rock in a fetal position when bad stuff happens. But boy, does my anxiety kick in and do a number on me. You see, ADHD girl can cope. She can solve problems. But maybe, it can someday be her turn to have those life disruptions on a less frequent basis.

Vulnerability is My Kryptonite

So what is really going on here? I hate being vulnerable. I imagine not many people do enjoy that feeling. But for me, I have always prided myself on being able to provide for myself. And plan carefully all things. Trying to create that happy, safe, predictable life. Hah! Yep, that’s a special kind of arrogance.

I hate feeling vulnerable. I hate appearing to others as deficient in any way. I am deficient in a lot of ways, to be honest. The anxiety. Two-time loser at the game of marriage? Yep. Overweight? Working on it, but yep! Still talking way too much for the average human too. I am super flawed.

The unknowns are what shakes me. When will I find a job? How long will it take? What will I do if it takes longer than I expect it to? WHY didn’t I stack more money into my savings. Well, I just left my former husband nine months ago. I used the proceeds of the house to pay for the dental I desperately needed. I also cleared out some medical debt I had with it. And of course, the expense of moving and getting into my new pad in Austin. A move I did, by myself. Including hiring local handymen to help with that. Mounting my TV, and other stuff. I can’t say that I honestly wasted a dime, but there wasn’t much left over after the fact.

But I should have stacked some aside for a rainy day? I wish I had. Because here is the thunderstorm and me without an umbrella. Lesson learned. Maintaining savings was difficult in my second marriage. For more reasons than I want to go into. Suffice to say it was always a priority. But I feel my financials were attacked by the vampire of my new life. Where I felt I was often pulling the finances of a household completely on my own.

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There is a little self-compassion in that. I have a plan to rebuild my savings so that this NEVER happens again. Because money (or the lack thereof) creates vulnerability. So, that will be a priority for me. To insulate me against economic adversity by doubling down on a budget and savings strategy.

Now to figure out how to stop the incessant chatter in my head, telling me this is all my fault. Because in addition to the tremendous workload of job seeking, completing writing assessments as part of the interview process, interviewing, and the whole shebang, I’m exhausted. I’m not sleeping well, and honestly, I am barely eating. That bodes well for the weight loss goal though. Huzzah!

Somehow, and in some way, I will find a path to creating the security that I have always craved. And perhaps this is part of the life lesson in this circumstance. I can do better. I will do better. And because I love myself (and certainly don’t deserve this stress) I will insulate myself better.

But in the interim, I will work on loving myself through this process. Instead of beating the holy sh*t out of myself on the inside. Because I am doing that relentlessly right now. And thinking about how someone can go from six figures to broke in a heartbeat. I’m smarter than that. Or at least, I will be in the future.

I am the daisy growing up between the cracks in the sidewalk I used to travel in Toronto. The one that I used to water a little bit every day with a bottle, cheering for its defiance against the odds. Until one day, I walked to the daisy and plucked her gently from the roots. And potted her on my balcony, somewhere safe, to reward her for her reslience.

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