Vachon Imagined

Four years ago, I lost my job. Career, gone.

A senior in my field with almost 30 years of experience and a PhD, and still—lost my job. The restructuring of the federal service left many of us climbing the ladder straight into our own defeat, a kind of landslide in slow motion.

I have applied to close to 700 jobs and received one interview, followed by the familiar “Dear Jane”—we regret to inform you. I thought I did well in the interview, which somehow made it worse. They chose the man they already knew. And yes, people tend to go with what’s familiar. I can’t fault them. It just doesn’t help my job search.

So here I am, writing.

I invest my energy into something that comes easily to me. The writing itself, at least—the flow, the stream of consciousness, the unfiltered spilling out. Not always the editing or mechanics; that part takes more effort. But the stream? I could do that indefinitely, longer than most, until exhaustion or hunger interrupts.

Some days I am completely okay with my circumstances. I’ve been able to be present for my son in ways a strict 9-to-5—or more like a 7-to-7, law enforcement-style “criminals don’t sleep, so neither do you” job—would never allow. The top is heavy in ways you don’t understand when you’re at the bottom, starting out—like lusting after those brookies (brownie and cookie combined) at Trader Joe’s, the kind you tell yourself you won’t buy and then absolutely do.

These past four years have been a long stretch of living in the unknown. And despite affirmations, belief in myself, and constant self-reinforcement, my circumstances haven’t changed—but I have.

I’ve learned that circumstances are not always controllable. They’re more like weather systems; they roll in whether you invite them or not. But what I do have is a different relationship to them. I’ve learned to be more honest when I’m down, more humble when I’m up, and to remember that everything—my mood, my thoughts, my feelings—is temporary. I get to decide how long I hold them, examine them, or set them down.

No one else gets to make that choice for me.

And while a job and a more structured purpose would be nice, I’ve also learned something else: I am in control of more than I once thought I was.