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When Your Dream Job Falls Apart

By Amy Nielsen 

I am not really sure how to describe what is going through my head right now. In the past week I have felt higher highs and lower lows than I have ever in my life; including the phone call telling me of the death of my father in a car crash; including the possible still-birth of our second child while my husband was deployed to Afghanistan without communication home.

 I went to Colorado on the offer and verbal agreement to do a specific job. It quickly became apparent that that job was in fact far larger than I had originally thought. And, the problems that came with it, both professionally and personally, were much deeper than I expected.

I decided it was not possible to complete the job in a fashion I felt professionally comfortable with. I am perfectly capable of doing the work, just not under those circumstances. That decision triggered a whole host of personal conflicts and issues I was unaware were so tightly wrapped up in this project. I was, and still am, broken from the ordeal; in heart, spirit and body.

I turned to my tribe. Those that came, came running in force to bring me spirit, heart, encouragement, gentle and not so gentle criticism. These are the people I love deeply. I honor and trust them. Their support is the deep well that I draw from to keep me rolling forward, especially now when I feel so fragile.

 I have never felt more supported by the family, the tribe I have curated and cultivated across the far reaches of the globe who had my back in this moment. But, at the same time, I have been left quite literally hanging in the wind by people standing next to me who I thought were my heart.

What frightens me now, as I re-read what I posted on social media less than 24 hours ago, is the lack of response from friends and family who are trained in crisis management. Who, when they hear a cry for help from a stranger, have professional training that causes them to drop everything and help. Now, that I was in need, the opposite response was given to me. There was no help. It was devastating.

I am not a person who makes phone calls or confronts someone easily with a deeply personal matter. It makes me physically ill to think of my response to those conversations. To feel and replay the lack of empathy and the lack of compassion from people I considered to be part my heart rips me to the bone. 

I started my drive from Colorado back to New York in a frightening state. I was still unsure of exactly how to go home from where I had been. So much has changed. So much has happened. So much has been said that I am unsure exactly how to exist right now.

The planes of the Midwest and the rolling hills of the heartland were a meditative soothing balm to my tattered mind. The wheels and miles rolling ever farther away from there and yet ever closer to here. Once I hit Des Moines though, it was all downhill into the seething pits of the humanity of the East.

Moving along and rolling forward, brings me finally and irrevocably to the state of New York. I think I am beginning to believe Billy Joel. It's a New York state of mind I need to achieve before going home.

I have to figure out how to assimilate all of these emotions bubbling to the surface. And I will take another couple nights of sorting myself out before I try to enter back into the womb I was delivered from four weeks ago.

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