This is the second time this has happened. It is the oddest thing. It’s a good thing, but I am not understanding it.
I really couldn’t have broken my ankle at the worst time. I’ve been here since April but it was time to get moving. I like it here, would have loved to stay, but the remote job search has not yielded any results. On Monday the 19th, I was going to start transferring everything to Texas, and then continue on up to Philadelphia where I had a job waiting for me.
The truth? My “contract” position did not end here in Tijuana; I was fired.
I was working for a buddy of mine and our management styles were polar opposites. I treat employees like, well, people. He treats them like indentured servants. He was treating me like an indentured servant.
Our deal, because of the low pay, was to work my eight hours and then go home. Of course, me being me, I worked more anyway.
One day, after working a long week, I wanted to go home. I had had enough. He wanted to argue about something or another.
“I’ve worked far more than I was supposed to. I’m going home.”
“Stop being a child,” he retorted.
That was the second time he called me that, after treating me like that many times. He was the good father to everybody and everybody was his bad children if they did not do exactly what he said and appreciate everything he did.
I DID keep my mouth shut. I really did. Surprised? Me too. But I did get up to walk away. “I’m going home,” I said.
He fired me.
In my defense, I told him to go [edited] himself AFTER he fired me. I walked home.
It was a three block walk home and the depression was getting heavier and heavier with every step. I took a chance moving here to Tijuana. I still had some savings left, but what do I do now?
I got home, sat down, and the depression disappeared. Something snapped inside of me and I was happy. Excited.
What the hell had just happened? I just lost my job. I was in a foreign country where I had dwindling financial reserves. I was screwed. I should have been devastated. Everything in my 51 years of experience pointed towards me crawling into bed and holding my head my head in my hands with the depression pushing me into the floor.
I grabbed a beer, went outside, lit up a cigarette and felt…absolutely wonderful. Not okay. Wonderful. Light as a feather.
The next few months would be some of the best of my life. It is so hard to explain. My sleeping habits changed dramatically. I was going to bed each night around 10 and waking up about 5 or 6. I’d make coffee and then get to work.
The first thing I always worked on was my job hunting. I worked with a career counselor and a recruiter on my resume and started getting it out there, with a resume focused on orthodontics and manufacturing and another one focused on what I really wanted to do: health writing.
Then, I would work on my book, my podcast, and upgrading my website.
I felt more alive than I had in a long time.
Money ran out. It was time to head home and find anything that could get an income coming in. Then, on the 9th, I broke my ankle. I am not going anywhere for at least two months. I was totally screwed. I only had enough money to get through this month and then make my way back to Philly.
The depression did hit. It hit hard. I did crash into the floor. Then, again, it dissipated.
What the hell?
I don’t know what is going to happen. I started a fundraiser and that was painful. Asking for help, especially when there is something in the back of my mind saying that I deserve this, is physically painful for me.
When I broke my ankle, the pain was excruciating. I almost passed out. Then, I had to walk home with an untrained dog on a leash and a stick I had picked up. Walking three blocks took me about an hour.
I would have rather have done again that than post a fundraiser.
I’ve tripled my efforts on the job hunt and am reaching out to people and companies to find anything. I am continuing work on my book, my podcast and other things that are fulfilling. I am probably working more than I ever have in my life, which is saying something if you know what I was like running a business. It’s just not making any money.
Stuck on my butt in my chair, begging for money, I feel alive.
Just taking it day by day. It was like I said to my friend yesterday. He was saying that God has a plan for everybody and everything. I take a little bit of a different view. After 50 years of hints and subtle reminders by the Universe to learn patience, it took direct action.
What else can I do?
I am getting a pillow for my chair. My butt is hurting far worse than my ankle. Then, I am going to keep at it, taking it day by day. It is not like the Universe has left me any choice.
And if you would like to help out, and receive exclusive content that I am setting up now as a “Thank You” to donors, check out the link below.
Every little bit helps. $10 here at the grocery store is like $40 in the US.
If you know anybody looking for remote help with their website or collateral materials, refer them to my resume on me website? Any shares to employers would be greatly appreciated.