the hardest part
I found out on Friday that my job was eliminated. I wasn’t really given advance notice that I’d be jobless in the middle of a pandemic. I wasn’t preparing myself for that either.
It’s Tuesday. I’ve been trying to put together some thoughts and feelings, but honestly? This is hard. They’re honestly all over the place for various reasons.
Did I mention that this is the year I started seeing a therapist? And that I’m learning how to grieve? Because this is the year that’s happening. What a wild ride 2020 has been.
There’s absolutely nothing that can prepare you to hear the words “your position has been eliminated by the company.” There’s nothing that can prepare you for a last-minute Zoom conference to be told that you’re being laid off, effective immediately.
Friday was the day I really felt all my feelings well up inside of me. Before I was on the Zoom conference, I was able to do a lot of cathartic shouting that also included many profanities. During the Zoom conference, I kept a poker face. My “bargaining table face,” if you will. How I was able to not just bust out into tears or start shouting is beyond me, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to explain that. After the call, I broke down and sobbed the hardest I’ve sobbed in years.
I reached the “parched, scaly lizard” phase of crying for the first time in six years. I cried until I couldn’t cry any more*. They weren’t just sad tears. They were tears of rage; tears of anger.
And then I continued on working for the rest of the time I was on the clock, even though I was told I didn’t need to keep doing that. Why did I do that? I’m a professional. I carry on, even in the roughest of times.
Right now, I’m starting to feel the emotions creep up again in my soul. Except this time, they aren’t feelings of rage or feelings of anger. They’re feelings of sadness and joy.
“But Meghin, why would you mention joy about being let go from your job?”
Because I’ve been so overwhelmed with the support that has been pouring in from the community; from complete strangers; from union brothers and sisters across the country. I’ve been left speechless by everyone’s support and love.
I mean that. It’s only Tuesday, but I’m still sifting through emails, texts and DMs from everyone reaching out with virtual hugs and support. It’s a lot to take in. All of this support reminds me why I wanted to go into journalism in the first place: the community.
I’m heartbroken. My heart is heavy. I’m sad. I’m really goddamn sad. I am expecting to have some sort of full breakdown in the next few days. I can feel it bubbling up. It’s not ready to come out just yet. I’m taking the moment to sit with my feelings and acknowledge them.
But the outpouring of support and love has truly kept me going. It’s enough to make me feel joy because there is still kindness in this cruel, cold-hearted world.
Friday, Sept. 11 was an emotionally draining day for me. Not just because of the sudden job loss, but because it’s been a day of mourning for 19 years. That’s the day my whole world really changed and sent everything into a downward spiral that has led me to (finally) seek out the help of an incredible therapist.
I didn’t expect that my job would be a casualty because of the pandemic, or even part of the “synergies” mentioned by the company that bought the company I started working with when the sale was announced (aka COST CUTTING!). I knew that corporate folks could be heartless, but I honestly was hoping that they wouldn’t be this heartless in the middle of a pandemic.
I honestly thought my job was safe. After all, the other digital content folks and I were constantly being told how well things were doing digitally at our papers. We were all preparing for a digital-first overhaul to help get news to communities faster. We were even preparing for (another) pivot (back) to video. We all had no reason to worry.
I guess we were all wrong. Now The Daily Progress is left without a digital person who was going to help the newsroom prepare for that shift back to video; a digital person who understood the ins and outs of social media and tried to give the paper a voice in the community by responding to readers whenever questions came about; a digital person who understood the analytics of the site and what worked to bring in audience engagement and what completely turned readers off.
This only fuels my flame to help save local journalism. It’s truly on life support at the moment. I want to help my former coworkers at The Daily Progress. I want to make sure the community still has a solid news source they can trust. I want it to be the same way across the country. Why? Because communities don’t deserve to lose out on basic information, well-reported information, information their communities need because of hedge fund-controlled entities.
My story is not done yet. This is my first job loss in the journalism industry. I’m sure I’ll deal with more as I get older. I still want to work in media, even if it stresses me out at times. I still want to be involved with the community. I still want to get stories that were previously untold, told.
I’m carrying on the way I have been –even if it has confused some people about how optimistic and cheerful I’ve been about the whole ordeal– because that’s what a strong individual does. I have my weak points, and I’m not afraid to admit to that. But I am going to go out with my dignity bruised, but in tact, my head held high and I’m going to be as graceful as one can be in a situation like this.
*On Saturday, I received my first-ever speeding ticket. When the state trooper asked me what was going through my head, I expected to start crying when I told him I lost my job the day before. Nothing. Nada. Poofs of sand instead. No tears would come out of my eyes, leading me to believe that I was all cried out (temporarily). I still have to pay that ticket, because I was an irresponsible driver going 84 in a 70 zone.