The blog I wanted to write

I woke up this morning wondering about how honest a blog should be.  I mean, it is mine and these are my thoughts and my feelings. I have always considered myself to be honest to a fault - but that doesn't mean I have to or should share everything. But I want to.

I start school tomorrow. I haven't said that in over 30 years. I am excited and afraid. I am hoping the excitement will become the dominant emotion as time goes by.  In my 30s I wished I'd finished college and later, I wished I could go back. But, the truth is, once I hit 50 I really thought those fleeting wishes were gone for good. 

The past 7 months have been really hard. They say that what won't kill us will make us stronger. Believe me, after I lost my job I heard all the clichés that were meant to make me feel better. I have thought and dreamed and talked and talked and talked about this until I was sick of myself. I finally had to realize that talking about how they 'done me wrong' is not the same as 'networking'. I have told the story so many times, with the same well thought out words that I have my own original set of clichés. 

Here is one - "The Herald that I loved is no longer in that building, but carried in my heart." Another, "The Herald made me the person I am, allowed me to learn and to change my life for the better." 

...And finally, "The Herald let me write." 

I won't lie - it still makes me cry - often without warning. 

I will NOT use another line that has become cliché - "They did me a favor." No, I will probably never think of it as a favor.

That is not to say that I won't come out of this a better and stronger person.  While I have said that I don't want to be a victim, I can also say that losing your job in this economy does make you a victim of sorts.

I know that no one was out to get me. But, here is another truth - I feel betrayed. I remember the morning I was told that that my job, as it was, was no longer needed. I remember it in flashes of facial and verbal expressions.  I know one of the facial expressions well, and I still interpret it as fake caring and concern. Another expression I see in my mind's eye is one I still can't interpret - it was either anger - or someone just trying to hold onto what might have been sincere regret. The words, let's not forget the words  - "it is not personal." It was and is personal and it always will be. I am not writing this because I need any more sympathy or empathy - believe me, I've gotten plenty of both. I am not the first person to endure this. What this is - is the truth, it is my truth and no one can change that and no one has a right to dispute it. 

I miss my friends and I miss being needed. I missed it a lot during the holidays when, although I finally had time to bake and shop - I had little or no human interaction for most of the days leading up to Christmas. 

So, I guess this is the blog that had to be written.  This is the one where I finally let go of the anger and the grief.  This is the one where I can finally say goodbye to "Nancy from the Herald" and say hello to "Nancy the student." 

I'm not sure if I will learn more at college than I have learned just living life and getting the perspective a person gets from loss, and yes, from love.

But I will learn.