about 2006
I’m looking back at 2006 and feel more at peace than I have in a long time. While I’ve never written one of these year-end epistles, I have so many friends I’ve sadly neglected that I’m giving it a try to share what’s happened.
2006 began with my growing sinking feeling about my job and my health. I was Executive Director of New York Restoration Project, a position I took in June 2005 on the rebound from City Harvest. A little background – I had a total hip replacement in September 2004, which indirectly resulted in my being unceremoniously and suddenly ousted by City Harvest’s Board in January 2005. Despite physical therapy, I was unable to walk properly by April 2005 and panicked that I could not take the new job. Fortunately, the recruiter from Philips Oppenheim knew a chiropractor who specialized in Active Release Therapy (a wonderful method of deep manipulation of connective tissues and muscle attachments). By June 1, I was ready to start. On walking in the door, though, I got a sinking and ultimately prescient feeling that this job wasn’t the right fit.
By December 2005, I had worked myself ragged trying to prove my worthiness to NYRP’s Founder – and to avoid grief. My beloved nephew David passed away June 29, 2005 after two years battling rare cancer, fibrosarcoma of the brain. I still find it difficult to believe he is gone. Then, I was in a combined state of denial, deep anger at God and the world, and despairing indifference. My lower back gave out and I spent ten days flat on my back working from home.
It was clear by January that there could be only one leader at NYRP and it wasn’t me. The position I wanted was not what I wound up with, and I wasn’t satisfied being a glorified office manager. In a way I was relieved when the Board Chair informed me that the Founder and Board felt this was no longer a good fit. Scared about the future, yes, but relieved that I didn’t have to show up for work that was more and more dispiriting and demoralizing.
As of February 1, I was unemployed – again. I was in shock. Me, who had worked since age 14, suddenly had been asked to leave two jobs in a single year. I was catapulted into self-doubt and, unbeknownst to me, a transition process.
I sought work, of course, and spent most of the spring networking and applying for various jobs in and around the NYC area as well as one in California. While in San Francisco for an interview, I visited my dear friend Cynthia and her partner Kathleen, my Uncle Al and Aunt Jo, and Maplewood friends who’d relocated. Twice, I got to the finalist stage only to be first runner-up. In May, I joined a group in Maplewood to help with my search, TransitionWorks (http://www.transitionworks.org/). Using William Bridges’ wonderful book Transitions as its foundation, TW consists of a workshop series where we explore our pasts in order to identify our intentions for the next phase of our lives. Following the workshop is an ongoing dialogue group, where people share their process and progress toward finding the “right fit” in terms of job, lifestyle and living their values. I was becoming ensconced in the group when physical trauma struck.
June 2 was my parents’ 50th wedding anniversary and we four kids (me, Alana, John and Ron) organized a celebration for them and their friends and relatives. It was a wonderful party – my brother John put together a video chronicling their lives together, my sister Alana gathered tons of photos and put together a beautiful memory book, I downloaded all their CDs and uploaded them on the gold iPod we four gave them, and my brother Ron organized the cakes and lots of set-up/break-down. Actually, all of us did physical labor, so I wasn’t surprised when my lower back began to hurt the morning of the party. After the party, I did what I normally do – went to bed, took muscle relaxants and ibuprofen (at different times), and saw the chiropractor. But this time, it didn’t work and the pain got worse and worse. I ended up having another spinal surgery on June 29, 2006 (L4 microdiskectomy to relieve pressure on the L4 sciatic nerve).
This was my fourth major surgery in seven years, and it dawned on me that I could no longer look for a big job because it required greater physical ability. The past six months have been among the most challenging times in my life, as I struggle to come to terms with being physically disabled. Fortunately, I have a private disability policy. Unfortunately, they required me to apply for Social Security Disability. That form was endless and took forever because I cannot sit for long periods of time. Now, all the forms are in and I await SSA’s determination. Only when they turn me down or accept me will my private insurance start to pay me. Meanwhile, I live on savings.
Physically, I’ve made many accommodations. I have significant pain every day and so am often quite exhausted. I sleep a lot more than I used to. I’ve had the flu three times this fall. It’s difficult for me to walk very far or do much exercise. I no longer lift and carry things, so need help with things like groceries. I traveled with the Cobles (my sister’s family) to Nebraska to visit my Uncle Ron and Aunt Cass, and stopped to see my brother John, sister-in-law Susi and niece Helen – and realize that I can’t really do long-distance travel anymore. Because cooking takes too great a toll on my back, I do very little of it. Thankfully, I am part of my sister’s household since I live just one house away from her. Every night, I eat with Alana, her husband Rick, and their 4 ½ year old daughter Julia (named for me). My housemate, Sue Brennan, helps a lot with the heavy work around the house, like taking the recycling out, and she takes care of the housecleaning. I see a local ART chiropractor twice a week and hope that will have good long-term results. Now that I’ve basically accepted my limits, I’d like to focus on my body becoming more able over time.
I withdrew from many loving friends over the past six months as my internal work was so consuming and my transition from physically able to less physically able so hard. My world got smaller, so living in Maplewood is a blessing for me. Sue’s partner Vivian often visits so it sometimes feels like the old days in NYC with my friend Anna and then Sean next door: an urban dorm gone suburban. I see my parents a lot, as they often come see Julia (and us) and visit David’s grave. My 14 year old niece Ana stays with me sometimes (less than I’d like), and I am learning about how difficult it is to be a teenager these days. I love her and am glad to be close enough to offer her a safe haven. I have two really good friends here, Phillipa and Leslie, and am slowly getting to know other people through Alana and little Julia.
I often get to pick Julia up from day care (we call it “school”) and attend some of the birthday parties and other events. I’m known as Auntie Julie. I love being so close to my sister and being such a huge part of her daughter’s life. Julia and I bonded deeply when her brother David was sick and Mommy (Alana) spent chunks of time in the hospital with him. Now, she has two houses and I have a real role in helping to raise her. My generous sister and brother-in-law are amazing in their acceptance of my partnership and love for their daughter. And my help allows my sister to work hard – she just spent two weeks in Dubai for work. My heart is slowly healing from the grief of losing David and City Harvest in the same year.
The question now is what do I do with my brain. Many people will deal with this issue: I have big brain capacity and limited body capacity, whereas I used to have big brain and big body capacity. I wonder what I can do, what I want to do, and how I can do it. Before my surgery, I laid groundwork for a number of things. I set up an LLC through which I could do consulting and coaching, Mission Advancement Consulting. I started working on an MBA through an on-line university, Cardean, which gets its very challenging courses from U of Chicago, Columbia, Stanford, Carnegie-Mellon and London School of Economics. I’m mid-way through that. I host a “Monday morning get-going” meeting at my house for people in TransitionWorks who are not working and need support and structure to stay on the trail. There, I’ve processed a lot of grief about City Harvest and anger and shame about how I was treated, in order to end that phase of my life and prepare for the next. And I’m writing in my blogs like this one. I find I can do things that allow me to set my own schedule and stay close to home: research, on-line classes, and writing.
Today, my goal is to write books that help people forge loving, positive lives in a challenging world. I’ve grappled with things many others face: alcoholism and addiction, job hunting and career building, family and community, self-acceptance and personal accountability, death of a child and other losses, getting fired, moving to the suburbs and creating new community. I’ve emerged strong, compassionate, and convinced that I must be kind to myself and to others. I also face uncommon issues like being a twin and an “almost mom.” I think my approach to these can help others with their unique circumstances. So I put this intention out into the universe to see what happens.
2006 began with my growing sinking feeling about my job and my health. I was Executive Director of New York Restoration Project, a position I took in June 2005 on the rebound from City Harvest. A little background – I had a total hip replacement in September 2004, which indirectly resulted in my being unceremoniously and suddenly ousted by City Harvest’s Board in January 2005. Despite physical therapy, I was unable to walk properly by April 2005 and panicked that I could not take the new job. Fortunately, the recruiter from Philips Oppenheim knew a chiropractor who specialized in Active Release Therapy (a wonderful method of deep manipulation of connective tissues and muscle attachments). By June 1, I was ready to start. On walking in the door, though, I got a sinking and ultimately prescient feeling that this job wasn’t the right fit.
By December 2005, I had worked myself ragged trying to prove my worthiness to NYRP’s Founder – and to avoid grief. My beloved nephew David passed away June 29, 2005 after two years battling rare cancer, fibrosarcoma of the brain. I still find it difficult to believe he is gone. Then, I was in a combined state of denial, deep anger at God and the world, and despairing indifference. My lower back gave out and I spent ten days flat on my back working from home.
It was clear by January that there could be only one leader at NYRP and it wasn’t me. The position I wanted was not what I wound up with, and I wasn’t satisfied being a glorified office manager. In a way I was relieved when the Board Chair informed me that the Founder and Board felt this was no longer a good fit. Scared about the future, yes, but relieved that I didn’t have to show up for work that was more and more dispiriting and demoralizing.
As of February 1, I was unemployed – again. I was in shock. Me, who had worked since age 14, suddenly had been asked to leave two jobs in a single year. I was catapulted into self-doubt and, unbeknownst to me, a transition process.
I sought work, of course, and spent most of the spring networking and applying for various jobs in and around the NYC area as well as one in California. While in San Francisco for an interview, I visited my dear friend Cynthia and her partner Kathleen, my Uncle Al and Aunt Jo, and Maplewood friends who’d relocated. Twice, I got to the finalist stage only to be first runner-up. In May, I joined a group in Maplewood to help with my search, TransitionWorks (http://www.transitionworks.org/). Using William Bridges’ wonderful book Transitions as its foundation, TW consists of a workshop series where we explore our pasts in order to identify our intentions for the next phase of our lives. Following the workshop is an ongoing dialogue group, where people share their process and progress toward finding the “right fit” in terms of job, lifestyle and living their values. I was becoming ensconced in the group when physical trauma struck.
June 2 was my parents’ 50th wedding anniversary and we four kids (me, Alana, John and Ron) organized a celebration for them and their friends and relatives. It was a wonderful party – my brother John put together a video chronicling their lives together, my sister Alana gathered tons of photos and put together a beautiful memory book, I downloaded all their CDs and uploaded them on the gold iPod we four gave them, and my brother Ron organized the cakes and lots of set-up/break-down. Actually, all of us did physical labor, so I wasn’t surprised when my lower back began to hurt the morning of the party. After the party, I did what I normally do – went to bed, took muscle relaxants and ibuprofen (at different times), and saw the chiropractor. But this time, it didn’t work and the pain got worse and worse. I ended up having another spinal surgery on June 29, 2006 (L4 microdiskectomy to relieve pressure on the L4 sciatic nerve).
This was my fourth major surgery in seven years, and it dawned on me that I could no longer look for a big job because it required greater physical ability. The past six months have been among the most challenging times in my life, as I struggle to come to terms with being physically disabled. Fortunately, I have a private disability policy. Unfortunately, they required me to apply for Social Security Disability. That form was endless and took forever because I cannot sit for long periods of time. Now, all the forms are in and I await SSA’s determination. Only when they turn me down or accept me will my private insurance start to pay me. Meanwhile, I live on savings.
Physically, I’ve made many accommodations. I have significant pain every day and so am often quite exhausted. I sleep a lot more than I used to. I’ve had the flu three times this fall. It’s difficult for me to walk very far or do much exercise. I no longer lift and carry things, so need help with things like groceries. I traveled with the Cobles (my sister’s family) to Nebraska to visit my Uncle Ron and Aunt Cass, and stopped to see my brother John, sister-in-law Susi and niece Helen – and realize that I can’t really do long-distance travel anymore. Because cooking takes too great a toll on my back, I do very little of it. Thankfully, I am part of my sister’s household since I live just one house away from her. Every night, I eat with Alana, her husband Rick, and their 4 ½ year old daughter Julia (named for me). My housemate, Sue Brennan, helps a lot with the heavy work around the house, like taking the recycling out, and she takes care of the housecleaning. I see a local ART chiropractor twice a week and hope that will have good long-term results. Now that I’ve basically accepted my limits, I’d like to focus on my body becoming more able over time.
I withdrew from many loving friends over the past six months as my internal work was so consuming and my transition from physically able to less physically able so hard. My world got smaller, so living in Maplewood is a blessing for me. Sue’s partner Vivian often visits so it sometimes feels like the old days in NYC with my friend Anna and then Sean next door: an urban dorm gone suburban. I see my parents a lot, as they often come see Julia (and us) and visit David’s grave. My 14 year old niece Ana stays with me sometimes (less than I’d like), and I am learning about how difficult it is to be a teenager these days. I love her and am glad to be close enough to offer her a safe haven. I have two really good friends here, Phillipa and Leslie, and am slowly getting to know other people through Alana and little Julia.
I often get to pick Julia up from day care (we call it “school”) and attend some of the birthday parties and other events. I’m known as Auntie Julie. I love being so close to my sister and being such a huge part of her daughter’s life. Julia and I bonded deeply when her brother David was sick and Mommy (Alana) spent chunks of time in the hospital with him. Now, she has two houses and I have a real role in helping to raise her. My generous sister and brother-in-law are amazing in their acceptance of my partnership and love for their daughter. And my help allows my sister to work hard – she just spent two weeks in Dubai for work. My heart is slowly healing from the grief of losing David and City Harvest in the same year.
The question now is what do I do with my brain. Many people will deal with this issue: I have big brain capacity and limited body capacity, whereas I used to have big brain and big body capacity. I wonder what I can do, what I want to do, and how I can do it. Before my surgery, I laid groundwork for a number of things. I set up an LLC through which I could do consulting and coaching, Mission Advancement Consulting. I started working on an MBA through an on-line university, Cardean, which gets its very challenging courses from U of Chicago, Columbia, Stanford, Carnegie-Mellon and London School of Economics. I’m mid-way through that. I host a “Monday morning get-going” meeting at my house for people in TransitionWorks who are not working and need support and structure to stay on the trail. There, I’ve processed a lot of grief about City Harvest and anger and shame about how I was treated, in order to end that phase of my life and prepare for the next. And I’m writing in my blogs like this one. I find I can do things that allow me to set my own schedule and stay close to home: research, on-line classes, and writing.
Today, my goal is to write books that help people forge loving, positive lives in a challenging world. I’ve grappled with things many others face: alcoholism and addiction, job hunting and career building, family and community, self-acceptance and personal accountability, death of a child and other losses, getting fired, moving to the suburbs and creating new community. I’ve emerged strong, compassionate, and convinced that I must be kind to myself and to others. I also face uncommon issues like being a twin and an “almost mom.” I think my approach to these can help others with their unique circumstances. So I put this intention out into the universe to see what happens.
Labels: disability, friends, grief, lessons, life, love and service, pain, struggle, transitions, year-end review
posted by julieannerickson at 2:56 PM
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