still here

Lately I awaken groggily from afternoon naps to the realization that I am not dead.

This happened for the first time a few weeks ago. I rummaged through fragments of dreams for context, but couldn’t find any. So I dismissed it as just one of those peculiar skips of consciousness that sometimes occur in the space between asleep and awake.

Then it happened again. Twice, three times. And when I awoke yesterday afternoon from a short nap, the thought: “I’m still here,” and the accompanying sensation of gratitude, had become familiar.

But so strange. To know one is alive, having never experienced being dead…

an evening in may

I sat outside tonight in my pajamas and sweatshirt – it’s chilly for May still, but at least the leaves are back on the trees for the breeze to softly rustle through again – and sadness came back to me like an old friend.

You get tired of pushing it back after a while. And you get tired of searching around in your head for a reason, always a reason, for why am I sad.

Sadness came back to me like an old friend, and I let it come. It rocked me gently like a hammock, up in the trees, the soft breeze, the rustling leaves, my sadness, and me: One.

I used to wrestle it when I sensed it coming – I still do, often – fearing that it will appear wearing the heavy face of depression. But no, not depression, not even loneliness now, just a whispering melancholy deep in my soul. Gently rocking, safe inside myself, a little wistful but not wanting.

This is me. I let it come.

aftermath

So the ominous lay-off week has passed, taking with it the loud static of anxiety. Also taking with it half of our small team. Leaving in its wake a pallor of demoralization and confusion. I’m still here, much to my surprise. And so is my manager, much to his surprise. Gone are all the interns, two developers, a webmaster, a manager, and our VP. It’s really quiet around here now. An ugly kind of quiet.

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised at how shaken I am by all this. I had thought myself sufficiently cynical of the reckless behavior of corporations and their tendency toward blatant disregard for human considerations. But I’m now seeing that deep down I was still kind of naïve. I actually thought that hard work and dedication to the company meant something. Not that I would ever offer that sort of devotion to a company, but I had assumed that those that did might be somehow rewarded when it came down to difficult decisions.

Not the case. Not by a long shot.

And all I can do is shake my head in something between stunned disbelief and bitter amusement when the senior management wonks get to talking about continued dedication to the company and to “winning” in the next quarter. You goddamn fools. Do you really think that such platitudes really speak louder than actions?

As each streak of naiveté gets systematically dashed, I will, however, still hold steadfastly onto my belief in poetic justice.

May we reap what we sow.