I thought about doing one of those fancy end-of-the-year posts that summarizes the Best and Worst of the year, but the events in my life that are memorable are mostly things I wish I could forget, but never will. Alas. (And I can’t talk about them here.)

I learned this year that sometimes people I love will inexplicably choose behaviors that I never even thought to forbid. I learned that truly, the only person I can control is myself.  I learned that, most importantly, I can choose my attitude in the midst of terrible situations.  (This year, my reading of Man’s Search for Meaning turned out to be perfect timing.)

This was a year in which I read less than usual because I had trouble focusing on a fictional world when my real world was stranger than fiction.

I began this year with the slow burning terror that I would lose my job at some point. I had no clear time-table which is like knowing a fire is approaching your house and smelling smoke but not knowing when the flames will lick at your front door. Do you sleep or spend all night packing up your important stuff?  Do you cook dinner or throw your whole pantry into a cooler so you can take off at a moment’s notice?  Is there any point in standing on your roof with a garden hose?

As it turned out, eleven months later, the call came and I lost my job.

So now I’m in a different muddle, one in which I don’t know when the next job will begin–or what that next job will be.

Stress. So much stress.

On a positive note, though, I have to point out several things.

I finally got myself together this past year and started walking at least 10,000 steps a day in March. I’m feeling better physically than I have in years.  I believe that all the exercise gave me strength to get through my days while feeling less frazzled than I would have otherwise.

My husband and I celebrated our 30th anniversary this summer with some fun at Disneyland.  He is the constant steady calm in my life.  Even in the midst of a very stressful season for him professionally, he’s been the stable, gentle, funny guy I married all those years ago. He is the best choice I ever made.

Also, when I reached out to a few friends with my tales of woe, those friends regaled me with their own tales of woe.  Knowing that my delightful friends–who are beautiful, accomplished, hilarious, smart women–traversed similar rocky paths has been such a comfort to me.  When I think, “Where did I go wrong?”, I remind myself that I am not alone and I am not the one who made STUPID choices.  (Still.  It’s been aggravating.)

I’m sure there was something else I meant to point out, but maybe I mentioned that I’ve been distracted these days?

Well.

Here’s to a new year.  This one definitely ends with a whimper.

So I’ve just wasted almost two hours of my time worrying. My kid is at a friend’s house and when I texted to just check in, there was no response.

I decided, in no particular order that:

1)  The child ran away from home and is probably being sex-trafficked as we speak.

2)  A car hit the child and the child is now paralyzed, lying on a cold, dark street, unable to answer the phone.

3)  A wildfire swept through the neighborhood and the child has been burned beyond recognition which is why the police haven’t appeared on my doorstep yet.

4)  Aliens exist and have abducted the child and the adjacent solar system has no cell service so obviously, my text messages didn’t go through.

The truth is so much more boring. The phone was plugged in, getting charged, in another room while the child was downstairs at the friend’s house, eating dinner and watching some Christmas movie.

Listen, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again.

Having a baby when you’re 37 is no big deal.
Having a teenager when you’re 52 is almost more than the heart can take.

(I know.  I’m irrational and possibly need intensive inpatient treatment.)

A guy named Michael Solomon wrote a book called, “How to Find Lost Objects.”  I remember reading this a while ago:

“Objects are apt to wander,” he wrote in his book. “I have found, though, that they tend to travel no more than 18 inches from their original location.”

I think about that when I am frantically searching for my keys or debit card or birth certificate. Instead of circling the globe, turning over furniture and emptying out closets, I stop and remind myself that the thing I search for is probably pretty close to the place I last saw it. I don’t lose things all that often, but this week was a doozy.  This week may have been an exception to that 18-inch rule.

I lost my job.

On Tuesday, my (former) boss sent me an email and asked if I had a few minutes to talk.  I had been collecting bits of evidence over the past year and I knew with certainty what the point of our phone call would be. It was the classic, “It’s not you, it’s me,” kind of situation. The company who had employed me for 10 years, 3 months and a few days no longer needs me.

I’m adrift.  Cut loose.  Lost.

What does one do without the routine of work to structure the days and nights? I am finding out.  I have stayed very busy. Since I don’t know how soon I’ll start another job, I’m still in limbo.  I can’t decide whether I should devote myself to true lounging or if I should tackle all those tasks that I’ve neglected and get my life 100% organized and in ship-shape.

So far, I have seen a movie during the daytime, filled out paperwork and mailed it to my (former) office, taken a writing assessment for a potential new job, gone to the bank, and cleaned out a fridge.  I’ve gone to sleep before midnight.

I do have a goal. I am going to get my office spic and span. I’m going to purge my bookshelves and organize my files and quite possibly get my photos sorted digitally.

I wish I knew when I’ll start another job.  I wish I knew where I’ll be working. I wish I knew the future.

If you need me, I’ll be by the Lost and Found, hoping someone is looking for me.