Dear Universe, Sorry I Called You an Asshole.

Dear Universe,

You and I have had our disagreements over the years. I get the impression that you see me as a somewhat bumbling dilettante with stars in my eyes and trouble at my fingertips soon to be followed by a sincere and self-deprecating mea culpa.

But while I know we are worlds apart in how we see things, I admit that your ways, though confounding and often infuriating are often, if not always, spot on.

I have never been without significant personal evolution from your heavy hand. Not that I am inviting it, by any means, I’m just acknowledging that hindsight from some of your more – interesting judgment calls – has shed light on things I didn’t previously comprehend.

Like, for example, my decision to give up writing.

I’d come to the conclusion on Monday, May 9^th, 2011 to stop writing. It was a tough weekend of agonizingly, painful weeping and self-torture to conclude that I could no longer push myself into the framework of a corporate bot, make my weekly assignments, have a social life (forsaking a romantic life) write my book and still manage to do well at my job. Something had to give and everything but my writing and finance career already had.

So that left, feeding myself and paying bills – or writing.

I decided that writing needed to be shelved in order to pursue my career as a director of finance.

Tuesday I went to my last critique class, intent to break the news, but couldn’t tell them in person, deciding instead to enjoy my last class then send out a mass email in a few days explaining that I wouldn’t be back.

The healing process from my health issues and four weeks of pneumonia made logic a little fuzzy – but I was certain that giving writing a much needed hiatus for a year or five would be a good, grownup, intelligent decision. The smart thing to do.

Wednesday morning, May 11^th, 2011 I was so angry about the choice that I wrote you, the Universe a grand fuck you letter, posted on my person blog that virtually no one knew about.

Eight hours later, I was fired from my job.

Eight hours.

And no one in management knew about my website. Nor could they give me a reason for being let go. In fact, most of them seemed bewildered and confused – disbelieving. Later they would refuse to give the unemployment office a reason for my termination, claiming “at will”. Although, I heard they promoted internally for less pay and higher degree.

Not that it even matters anymore, because – almost the moment I make up my mind to stop writing – that option is taken away. Without true cause. Without viable reason. Without warning. 

And I was stumped.

Trapped in a daze of ego burn and a sense of betrayal. For months I wondered what I could have done differently. What area I could have fixed.

But as I began to replay it in my mind I realized – my working there was a catastrophe waiting to happen. I walked in to a re-org. I walked into mismanagement. I inherited a team of insubordination and catty backstabber. I inherited an archaic file-system, poor training, three months of backlog and six months of training to catch up, and ego’s the size of China as my so-called-support system. AND no funding or backup to make things run better. Basically, I was in such a hurry to get out of one fire – I dove right in to another.

And on top of all that, which is shameful enough – I planned to give up the one thing I love more than air, sex – even chocolate. I planned to give up writing – for them.

Universe, I know you know me well enough to know that when I set my mind to something – there is precious little that can stop me – unless the option is completely removed.

Interestingly, within three months of being set loose, I’d completed my novel and written four separate drafts. A month later I was knee-deep in the hunt for an agent and contemplating for the first time – like it was an actual option – writing as a career. All this, I’d estimated to my writing group would take me at least another year to two at the rate of full-time+ for the finance world and writing 30+ hours a week.

I hadn’t planned to send my first book to agents until 2013. This, after I’d been working on it since 2001.

Then, one night as I was trying to fathom, imagine, dream what it was that I used to dream – a life of a storyteller, I stumbled across my post from 2006.

            Plan A:

                        I, Athena, will become a storyteller.  I will utilize the written word and the craft of acting.  I will be successful at this endeavor based on the scale of my own personal standards and not the standards of industry or fame.  I will find completion in my work and joy in the process.  I may cry and wail but I will also laugh and dance.  I will find inspiration and wisdom and adventure in this plan.  I will not run away from the responsibility I have to myself to maintain my own level of happiness.  I will create.  I will entertain.  I will not hope for a plan B or otherwise, because this life –is from here forth – the life I choose until it no longer suits me.  I will write, act, travel and live from this day forward as though my dreams are entirely reasonable, realistic and worthy. I will make a safe and comfortable living within this Plan.  I will not be deterred by labels designed to cause shame such as; selfish, dreamer, childish or any other such description put to me with the intention of making me quit.  When I look back over my life I will not find regrets that I didn’t attempt to live my dreams based on fear, or a sense of unworthiness.  I will not let rejection, or the judgments of others keep me from my voice as a storyteller.  Plan A is only a part of Bliss, but it is a huge part, and therefore will be granted the proportionate amount of energy required to feel balanced.  I will not apologize or feel embarrassment for the sheer scale of my dreams.

I, Athena, from this day forth, will strive to complete and maintain Plan A.  I will make alterations to the Plan as needed or as my desires change.  I stand behind this statement of intentions regardless of the repercussions or the negative fallout of my declarations.  I will not demure, or step down, or make myself less to keep a status quo.  This I do swear, on Wednesday the 27^th of September, 2006.  So be it.

In short, Universe, six months ago I was really pissed at you. I was defeated, worn down, ready to give up. The irony is my astrology charts said that May 11^th would be my best day for career in almost 5 years. The day I got canned? Seriously?

But it was followed with a summer of breathing new life into my work. I spent the summer falling in love with my characters again, working on our relationship and allowing myself to remember what I used to dream about.

And in the meantime, while I’ve stressed about survival, little things have lined up in surprisingly simple ways to keep my head just barely above the water while I throw myself into this new venture of writing for life.

I know our friendship has been tenuous at best, but I really appreciate all you do for me. Really. I do. I appreciate that even when I think I can’t take one more defeat, you hand me a rope too short to hang myself with – but long enough to help pull myself out of a rut. Nothing fancy. Just barely serviceable. But it is enough.

I imagine sometimes that you’re laughing at me. Other times, I get the impression that I surprise you. I guess that makes two of us.

The question is what’s next?

We’ve been at this game with one another for 33 years. Where does it go from here? Do you think we can finally be friends? Maybe not bosom buddies. Baby steps after all. But maybe let’s start with a truce, an olive branch, a chance to begin fresh.

I think for my part, Universe, it’s important that it be expressed how grateful I am that you had a hand in keeping me from making a huge mistake. It opened up a vast world of uncertainty – but you know me best – that’s my playground, after all.

Thank you.

Almost exactly six months later – I can say with utter, unrestrained gratitude – thank you.

Even with all the grief and fear, six months later I have my health, my freedom and my dream back.

Here’s to a long and fruitful friendship, full of respect and humor; with a good story to be told when all is said and done. Let’s try and make it a story full of surprising improbabilities, entertaining and revolutionary. I bet no one will believe it – and that’s exactly the kind of life I want. Think we can work on that?

Cheers,

Athena