There was a rainbow visible as the sun emerged.  I take this as an indicator of brighter days to come.

As a young girl I was always enamored with rainbows.  We once had a family member who even named their daughter Rainbow Lea.  (Those were the hippie days.)

As days and nights have passed by, I reflect, and I’m still trying to get a hold of myself. Moving on doesn’t happen overnight, but I’m gradually refocusing some of my plans.

I treated myself badly for the past few months at the expense of people who cared for me. I lost my job to uncontrollable situations. I think I’m ready to let go of my counseling job. I’ve reached the retiring age, but my mind and body are still good. I could lend a hand in driving my other senior citizen friends to and from the market, church, grocery, and the local YMCA – only if they have health insurance. I have a vision of a 60-year old, mind you.

I could try to cook for the congregation in the church only if you call burned bread a delicacy. I heard they give a few dollars for all the help you have contributed. One lesson that I had is that it doesn’t matter how many digits your paycheck has or how high your position at work is to brand yourself as a successful person.

It is the number of friends you have who will be at your side when the going gets tough. You need not send a smoke signal. Look what happened to me. At first I drove them away, but they insisted and made me realize that they loved me for who I am and not for what I was.

This journey to my self-recovery really begins with small steps after all.  Slow and steady wins the race.

The optimist agrees with this, and the pessimist scoffs at the folly.

Some see the glass as half full and some as half empty. Same thing.

The more time that has passed since JL Day, comically titled as Job Loss Day, the more I see the flip side of things (optimism, pessimism). I try my best to see that moment with optimism rather than sulk all day and end up a tired, dried up prune.

I learned from my recent catastrophe that life is a cycle after all. It is but normal for people to feel this to help them recover from their fall. Of course, there is denial. The shock stage. Remember how I disappeared from church and Bingo nights? I felt so ashamed of myself.

Anger followed my denial stage. I resented everyone for the first two weeks of being unemployed. I lambasted innocent people like my neighbors and even the mailman! Then I got so frustrated with myself since I haven’t found a new job even after sending thousands of resumes to nearly all companies in the United States of America.

So much for the mush, my new found friend, who is a widower, told me that I also have to take care of my health insurance.  I had good coverage while I was working for the Army, but now that’s gone and my interim coverage that I got as a safety net is about to expire.  He told me that there is this law that allowed people, who got separated from their jobs, to apply for insurance at the rate their former company applied for. It’s called The Consolidated Omnibus Budget Reconciliation Act (COBRA).

All sob stories end with learning how to adapt with the situation. How to deal with the loss and somewhat embrace the bits and pieces of lessons that come with it.

When I was young they used to show it at special times, like the Thanksgiving holiday.

As a child it was somewhat terrifying because there was a fearsome witch.  (Keep in mind that audiences of the 1950s were not necessarily as sophisticated as folks are today.  We didn’t have all those video games, and constant entertainment stimulation.  They had just invented TV after all. And had just come out of the age of radio.)

As each day pass, more and more citizens find themselves at a loss for words and at a loss for jobs. The current economic situation that has swept not just the United States, but the entire globe has really shocked people’s lives to the core.

I am one of them. I used to blame the world for the bad luck I went through, yet with the support of my new friends, I realized that life is not so bad after all. If I succumbed to one of my ex husband’s addiction to alcohol, I would have landed in rehab with nothing to be proud of.

The mental stress is still present, yet I am a much different person than I was a month ago. I lost my self-confidence, freedom, and identity as well. Even having lost these essentials, I was still a happy and likeable person. I was glad to have met new friends during my Bingo nights.

What I have learned from this employment nightmare is to never give up. When life closes a door, it somehow opens a window. I always pray that if things get rough, show me the way to smoothen the path, so that my walk wouldn’t be that bumpy.

I got really pissed off when my nosy neighbors sent me cards and cakes when I lost my job. I was really selfish at that time. I thought that shutting the world out can help. I was wrong. I should’ve thanked them for their concern.

So here I am today reflecting on the wizard of oz, hoping for a wizard of my own, and hoping for a yellow brick road of a path to follow to my great future ahead.

Being able to roll with the punches is much better than being an ostrich with your head in the sand.  This is what I always used to teach my clients.

Now, however, I have to eat a little of my own advice.  Starting over after 60 is scarcely the easiest thing to do, especially for a woman who is not entirely used to being on ones own.  Not that I’m not self-sufficient, I am, but still…

Patience is a virtue even though I still find my inbox empty after sending my resume` to a gazillion companies. A month passed by and I’m still waiting for my time.

I started to give my life another boost, so I went back to my Bingo nights and hopefully, find someone or a group I could be comfortable with. There I met a widower who was unemployed some months back when the company he was working for decided to fold up due to the economic strain that has swept the country. He told me about some tips on how to cope with loss. And with my situation, it’s job loss. I should file for Unemployment Benefits.

The Government has been kind enough to include my name in their long list of dependents. For a year now, I have been receiving my weekly supply of food that ranges from milk, cheese, bread, and other necessary supplements to get me through.

After my fourth marriage went to ashes, I moved into government subsidized low-income housing projects. I never thought I’d end up there, but times got rough and like today, employment is rougher for an elderly person. Aside from my unemployment benefits, my health issues were next.

You see, being a woman who has been well past the hills, health is the most important thing to take care of. What will happen if I needed to dial 911? Knock on wood that it won’t happen, but you can’t hide from these circumstances.

That is actually one of my strengths.

It is my hope that I can figure out the individual facets of my skills, and pass them on to my readers and to others.  Perhaps through a workshop.

Still I have a certain number of unanswered questions, not totally clarified in my mind.  Like,when to flip the gray hair and hope for the best.  You know, like should I dye my hair? Trade it in for blonde?

How to live with no stress?

I think I can’t. I can’t even stop flustering every time the mailman drops the mail through the doggy door. I have a mailbox for crying out loud! It’s sometimes not healthy when the community you live in have residents who practically know each other. Like they have this right to know what’s happening with every one else.

When I did not report to work that day, I received get well soon cards, sneeze-the-blues-away cakes, and phone calls from the neighborhood. Did they ask me why I didn’t go to work? They obviously did not hear me sniff or cough while they spoke with me over the phone. Yes, they cared. But they cared for the wrong reason! They just acted on their guts and not even had time to ask what happened.

Now, no one seems to lend an ear when they finally figured out that I got axed from work. I did not get fired. I had committed no offense. My position simply chose to disappear. The Federal Government had decided they would not need my services any longer.

After a wonderfully microwaved meal of chicken and mashed potatoes, I realized that I should stop all these angst and start to live how a woman my age ought to live. With a handful of optimism for the future. I’m a senior citizen with rights and benefits to help me come through.

Soon, I shall catch a glimpse of that rainbow after this storm.  Of this I am certain, at least at this moment.  My faith, however, wanes, depending on which way the wind is blowing.

This is my usual routine, as I’m sure my friends know.

i’ve been doing it for years.

Dressed in my usual clothes, I saw the usual faces, but something alarmed me. They used to talk with me when we sit together, but why the cold shoulder now? Is there something plastered on my forehead that said UNWANTED and UNEMPLOYED? And what is that sermon about giving help to the needy? Why are all eyes on me? Do I look miserable? I do not need your grief. I am wallowing in mine, thank you.

It’s just unnerving when people start sizing you up by the position you hold in the community. I was a nobody. Well, a scarlet perhaps, since I have been more than one husband for the last 30 years. But what I cannot understand is should people have a say in your own life?

Nothing has changed. I look the same and well, smell the same. That thought stayed in my mind as I walked home. When was the last time I looked at myself in front of the mirror? I was shocked when I looked. Either I could pass for a family member of the Addams Family or I could be one of the characters in the Nightmare before Christmas movie.

I heard that stress in the workplace can be a little bearable compared to the stress you get when there is no more place to work at. It seemed I had no nice thing to share to the world – just a whole lot of what-ifs, frustration, and brewing guilt.

I always recycle at Goodwill or the Arc, but some people just put things in the trash.

So what is with this out with the old in with the new?  Is this how we treat mature employees also in this country.  I know some countries revere their elders.  Clearly that is not the case here.

Does this culture have any concern for the old? I hate calling myself old. I just turned 60 a few years ago and obviously I do not need a wheelchair to move around. My mind is as quick as a 20-year old. I could easily compute my life savings without a calculator. Then why can’t I see an advertisement in the classified ads that need a motherly employee of 60 years old?

I have taught myself to use the computer and have sent out hundreds of resumes` to different companies across the country. But to no avail. Some would have the grace to reply back and say that unfortunate reasons restrict them to process my application. Because I am old?

This is the land of the free! No age, gender, or social status should divide us, but how can we be united if there are groups that would rather see size 2s strutting around their offices with carrot juice on hand?

What about the young at heart? We are the reason why these acclaimed writers and fancy models are now being praised by many. We started the race, why exclude us from what we started? Why do these companies neglect the old?

As long as we can walk, dance, and say what’s in our minds, there is no one who can stop us from doing what we love. I am 60++ and not scared to tell the world that I am – just afraid to admit it to myself, though.

You have to take care of your own affairs all along through your life.

Lest you end up alone, scared, and frustrated at 60, you need to be thinking ahead.  That’s my opinion IMHO.

I had a nightmare last night. I was working late in one of the brightly lit Federal Government offices as a counselor for soldiers who were leaving the Army. My boss paged me through the intercom and said: “Would the 60++ year old woman step into my office please?” I felt all eyes on me! Was I the only person in that 50-seater office who was 60 years old? I guess I was, since no soul moved an inch. I grabbed my pen and notebook and went straight to the office.

I knocked on the door and saw my boss who was two generations younger than I was. “I have received orders that our soldiers were to be enrolled in programs to help them restart their lives. So effective tomorrow, there is nothing for you to counsel since they’re to be taken care of. Goodbye.”

I woke up in a sweat. My heart was pounding and tears were running down my cheeks. It has been the same nightmare for 2 weeks now. I have no one to call. My parents have both passed away. My brother and his family migrated somewhere some years back. I’m alone, frustrated, and overweight.

Honestly, I didn’t prepare for my future. I was living my life as it passed me by. Being a wife of responsible and dedicated men was great, but when they started leaving, I had to fend for my own self.

Why is life like this? Have I used all the happy points in one sitting?

Typically I am a compent person in the kitchen, but I guess my concentration must have lapsed as I was looking at the newspaper headlines.

I burned my fingers this morning while preparing breakfast. I got used to multi-tasking. Getting the strawberry jam from the fridge and making coffee. I forgot to wear pan handles when I reached for the kettle. At 60++, I’m still reckless and clumsy. Too reckless to have had four husbands in 30 years and too clumsy to see that temporary jobs really do mean you have to brace yourself when you get axed.

There is nothing swimming in my mind right now, but two things. How will I pay the rent and when can I get a job all over again? Think the last one I had was my last straw? I’m qualified for mostly all consultancy jobs. Yet the problem on hand is that the available ones are not in my specializations, and there’s the age issue.

I haven’t gone to church for the past week. It will not come as a surprise if I get a visit from our chaplain. He might think I stopped breathing while trying to tie my shoelaces. I don’t want to pray for the meantime. Why do other people’s prayers get answered when all they do in their office is file their nails, chew on their bubblegums and loiter around the water station, when here I am packed with wisdom, experience and skills?

I am thinking of running an ad in the classifieds that would say “60 year old woman in need of a high paying job.” Do you think I’m reaching for the stars?

This happens to all of us, I know that.  That doesn’t make it any easier, however.

So here we are at this blog, and I welcome you here.

Every morning that I was employed as a counseling specialist for our brave US soldiers who leave the military camp to start another chapter in their lives; I mindlessly go through life’s motions and waited for the next paycheck to arrive. Little did I know, this job began from temporary to permanent. Yes, permanently gone. Did I wake up on the wrong side of the bed? Amidst the country’s failing economy, I got caught in the thank-you-for-your-time-pack-your-bags-and-leave situation.

I am a 60++ old woman with nowhere to go, but maybe the home for the elderly. I went into hibernation and stopped social relationships with my so-called friends. Whatever savings I had will surely not compensate those Bingo nights and out-of-town weekend trips.

At nights, I curl up in my single room apartment and wished I wouldn’t wake up the following day. Oh, I had my fair share of life’s ups and downs, but not as tragic as this one. Husband #2 left when he found out that I won’t bear a child. My uterus is shaped like a T meaning I had a slim chance of bearing a child – like 1 in a million.

I can’t live alone, unwanted and of course, unemployed. My head is spinning clock-wise and counter clock-wise at the thought of spending my golden years with nothing. Now, with this hurdle in my life, should I take a leap of faith or rot in the dark? This happens to be my first week full of devastation and remorse.

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