Adventures (?) in Unemployment: Day 2

Dollars and Sentiments

Happy Monday. There is an older man across the street from this coffee shop who is digging aluminum cans out of a garbage dumpster. He wears a backpack and some gardening gloves. He fishes his wares from deep within the dumpster by putting a stick in the mouths of the cans, lifting his prizes out quickly and easily. They’re probably worth 5c a piece, and it looks like he’s found about 20 so far. Interestingly, there is a recycling bin next to the garbage dumpster which he largely ignores. While it may be worthwhile to point out that he is in fact working, while I am not, this is not why I bring him up. Rather, what caught my attention is how he wears his backpack: He’s going one-strap style, but instead of left strap over left shoulder (standard playground rules); he slings the left strap over his right shoulder, effectively turning the backpack into a messenger bag. Again, I mention this because I have worn a backpack nearly every day since I was about 3, and it has never once occurred to me to do that. What else have I been missing?

Dollars seem to have a polarization effect around certain aspects in a relationship; let me fumble through this explain: Imagine for a moment you are standing on a pier on a sunny day, looking for fish in a lake. Put on polarized sunglasses, and all of a sudden you can see right to the bottom and know exactly where all the fish are. The same seems to be true when including money in the equation of a relationship: formerly obfuscated elements suddenly become highlighted. Now to be clear, I’m not suggesting that adding money eliminates problems, or vice-versa, but to recognize early on a shift in focus of relationship elements brought about with a change in dollars would not be a bad thing.

I bring this up in part to acknowledge the unfailing support I’ve received from friends and family during this first phase of change. I’m getting married in a month, which is more than enough reason to become stressed by the dismantlement of the framework of my livelihood, but all y’all little fishies have kept me from even thinking I could drown. So thanks a lot.

Though if I’m honest, this experience has brought to into sharp relief the role of a (soon-to-be) husband as “provider”, and what it means to have lost functionality in that regard. Deep-rooted self doubts asking “what am I good for”, however quickly squelched by the lovely lady friend, bubble up now and again. To work, in the abstract, lends a sense of purpose to the station of an individual; the satisfaction of contribution as one half of a couple; and the strength found in membership of a team. Taken together, the opportunity to feel devastation at the loss of these components is, in my mind, justified.

Not in Nura’s though. Good lord not even for a moment. Trying to use “but I just got fired” as reason to eat extra cookies, or play games on the phone, or even sleep in on Sundays will get you slapped across the face. FYI.