The news of losing my job creates a hurricane of feelings inside my chest. I vacillate between pure raw fear and excitement. There is minimal time between the two extremes.
The fear that seizes my thoughts is crippling. The simple act of driving up my driveway releases the thought of the potential the loss of the job can create.
“Will I still be pulling up to this house, that I love, a year from now?” I ask myself.
Out of nowhere, I am a hostage to the most terrifying thought process I have ever known. Shifting my focus, I try anything to break free from these thoughts. Sitting still entertaining such damning thoughts leads to a guaranteed outcome.
There are moments when I see this news as a defining shift in my life. The thought of being able to look back and happily say, “that is when my life changed for the better,” is a fantasy I welcome.
Longing for that day, I realize this moment in my life is training for that day. If I skip the training I will not be prepared for the fantasy.
“Get up,” I tell myself when the fetal position calls me.
“Move,” I tell myself when the fear that comes with these thoughts paralyzes me.
“Take a step,” I tell myself because the fantasy is stationary and I must move towards it.