Mad. Angry. Really mad and really angry. Hurt. Confused. And repeat. 

I just got fired after almost 15 years with the same company. To say I am in shock is an understatement. How do I tell my husband? How do I tell my five-year-old daughter? But I digress…

They came for us around closing time. The corporates. The big bosses. The upper level management. Two of them. A him (white, middle-aged, paunchy) and a her (black, 50s, coiffed).  

They strolled in, confident in their right-ness. Ready to look compassionate, but failing spectacularly.

Like a tidal wave of hot air the words burning my ears, “the company has decided to separate you”…like limb from limb? no doubt. 

Queue the sad smile on their once-friendly faces. “Here’s a tissue” as a salve for my hot wet tears; “here’s the number for insurance” as an answer to my panicky question. 

“Happy 15 years to me!” was all I could muster before the anger exploded from my face in a stream of salty tears. The hives on my neck bloommed afresh. 

They fired three of us, one after the other. I was last, hence the spattering of hives. I was the most emotional, unable to hold the lid on my raw anger a second longer. 

How dare they do this to you, and you, and me. How can this be happening?! This is not happening


But it is. And it did. And, as of 5:30ish Wednesday evening, I became a statistic:  A former employee, an unemployed American. 

Fear. Shame. More anger. 

Tonight I wallow. Tonight I cry. Tonight I take the gut-punch reality and let it simmer. 

But mommy still needs to be a mommy. “I’m sorry you had a bad day, mommy.” Her little voice lifting me through the fog, filling my cracked heart, a band-aid to my psyche. 

Tomorrow I will hit the restart button and figure this out. Or at least try.