Rejection is redirection; I will MAKE it so.

The day after Passover I started a new job.

I was ecstatic about it, though super wary. My previous job had lasted four months, and aside from my amazing coworkers, had been toxic for me. As has happened previously in my life, I got lucky - they did me a favor and broke up with me. They fired me with literally no good reason.

But from the moment that I received the notice of hearing (how it works here in Israel), I decided to make a change in my life and focus on my improvement.

I immediately signed up for classes on Coursera, started taking lessons on social media, marketing, and confidence on Linkedin, and chose a multiple of podcasts, one of which I have really connected with (20 Minutes with Bronwyn). I focused on Linkedin (more than any other social media) and followed the positive outlook posts and adopted my mantra: "rejection is redirection." 

It wasn't easy. Especially with my depression, anxiety, sleep issues, and four children under eight years old. I even had a day where I absolutely lost my sh*t, had an anxiety/anger attack, and had to hide myself in my room for the rest of the day (and medicate myself).

But I stuck to it, listened to my podcast almost daily, ignored the little voices in my head that tried to put me down, and landed an interview with a reputable company (in the same city). I walked into their office and felt an undercurrent of... calmness. 

I sat with the CEO and he was a soft-spoken leader. I liked him, his approach, and his demeanor. So I took a second interview over Chol HaMoed Passover and was hired that day, a mere week and a half after I was fired by the toxic company.

It took at least a month for me to get used to the calm work environment. To get used to the fact that mistakes are a part of learning and refining your skills. To not fear for my job every time my content manager or CEO called.

And about four weeks after I started my new job, my father's health drastically and rapidly deteriorated. I didn't automatically book a ticket, but instead went in on Sunday to help with production of a podcast. Upon sitting with me, the CEO -without question or hesitation- told me to book my ticket home. So I did.

And my father passed away on my flight home.

The CEO, my content manager, and everyone at the office were incredibly kind. They told me not to worry and they took care of everything while I was gone, while I attended the funeral, while I sat shiva for a week, while I flew back through two layovers, while I recovered over the weekend.

And the CEO sent me constant messages of strength and support and heart. It was unexpected, but reiterated the feeling of family and community that he had told me about at the very first interview. 

I am pleased to see that there still are some people who consider their word as their bond (thank you, Amir).

It was very unlike my last shiva experience (for my beloved mother nine years ago) where I was fired, via email, while I sat in my brother's house (I've had some pretty traumatic work situations).

To get through everything, I have relied upon the base I created eight weeks ago. The base that focuses on my internal strengths, my spirit, my capabilities, and the future. I feel a veneer of calm I never used to have.

I'm not saying that I don't have outbursts of anger. I'm not saying that I don't have anxiety or episodes of depression where I don't want to get out of bed or randomly start crying (like now).

But I'm better than I used to be, and the veneer is thickening. Maybe others don't see it yet, but I do.

I'm a lot more confident at work and in myself. And I am using this as a springboard for everything else: now is my time to work on myself physically (again), on learning how to be better organized (and to pass these skills on to my children), and learn. Just keep learning.

It'll come.

And as I now use as a mantra when calming my two year old...

"It's okay. All is well."

Trust, lots of trust, and a little anxiety on the side.

Thursday, August 29.

I woke this morning with a lot of anxiety.

A year ago, when I was re-diagnosed with depression, I was "lucky" enough (haha) to also get its accompanying 'kissing cousin,' a.k.a. anxiety. I had never really had anxiety before, but I have plenty of friends with anxiety disorders. I could always sympathize, but never quite empathize until now.

Over the past year, I've had good reason to be anxious about things, but, see, the thing about anxiety is that it doesn't always make sense. I remember this past Spring my husband telling me that he finally bought me and my baby daughter the tickets to America we'd been talking about so I could go see my dad; I literally had low-grade anxiety the entire day before bawling and freaking out once I walked in the door. He didn't quite understand and I had to explain. It wasn't that I didn't want to go, I said between tears. It's just ... big. A lot.

Time has passed and I've had a rough August. A really rough "f*ck you" kind of August. We moved, had all three kids off school/gan, commemorated my mom's English date of death, learned our thirteen-week old fetus wasn't healthy and had to make the choice whether to terminate the pregnancy, had to maneuver the hospital system to finally get it terminated the next week, studied and took two legal exams to become licensed in Israel, celebrate what would have been my mom's 79th birthday, and then get a scare that my blood clots (from ten years ago) came back.

To add to all the physical and emotional drama that I endured this month, there was also an intense amount of job drama as well. I'm pretty sure it'll resolve this week, but that's a lot of additional anxiety to heap onto my already formidable depression that I'm carrying on my shoulders.

In my attempts to resolve this job drama, I had to speak with my boss and share some personal information from this past horrendous month of August. She was sympathetic but told me that I need to trust a little more.

While processing my experiences this month, I had some (very brilliant) friends and family check in and share with me what they believed were insights. They were legitimate. Both involved trust.

My husband, while I was explaining my feelings and what was happening around me, said simply, "I guess Talya needs to learn trust."

In the span of three days, four separate people told me that I needed more trust.

But, in the past, when your boss fires you the week you're sitting Shiva for your mom, you've had your best friend suddenly accuse you of stealing her $15,000 engagement ring and file a police report against you for said accused felony (and never apologize once the ring was found), you've had boyfriends cheat on you, you've had family (temporarily) turn on you, and most recently, your body fail you, how do you regain that trust in anything? In others, in your workplace, in your body, in life, in G-d?

I can't simply "unexperience" this crap, I can't "unsee" or "unfeel" any of it.

But here's the food for thought that was provided to me - do with it what you will:
The opposite of anxiety is not tranquility. Nor is it peace, clarity, calm, or serenity.
The opposite of anxiety is trust.

When we are anxious, we are not trusting in ourselves, in G-d (if you believe), in others, or in things to pass.

In Hebrew, "worry" is "דאגה"
It has four out of five of the first letters of the Hebrew alphabet. The missing letter is "ב."
When we worry, we're missing בטחון - the trust (the security).

So I'm going to consciously take a leap and make an effort to trust again. Myself, others, and G-d ... How the hell do I do that? I guess by taking one step at a time: accepting emotions, meditation, visualizations, exercising/sleeping properly ...

לאט לאט.