I finished our 2016 P&L statement tonight for Beckon LLC. I know I've told most of you the story (either live or on FB) before, but in 2014, I was going through a divorce, moving from a 3000 square foot house to an 800 square foot house with a then-2 year old. I had worked in corporate America for 5 years and had just been shut down- for the 3rd time that year- for a raise that would have taken me from $45,000 to $50,000 a year in a job I once made $55,000 a year in and was haphazardly "demoted" as the company restructured. I had given my managers an ultimatum, hoping I was valuable enough for them to not fire me: "Give me the raise, or I'm leaving."
I still almost remember the response, "<Manager> would like me to communicate to you that
The world was upheaved this week, and we are the fallout. Whatever or whoever you may be reading this, what I felt- whether I mourned or celebrated...whether YOU did- is irrelevant. Because we were all upheaved.
And so it goes, as it always has and always will. For some of us in our lives, this is the greatest chasm we have faced, but it is not the widest divide that's ever been, even if, and though, it feels like it must be.
It's after 1:00 am, and my house is so quiet I honestly had to think about who, if anyone was in it with me. Otis, yes. Shaun, yes. Beckham, yes...wait, no. Even after almost 3 years of being a "modern family" with 2 households, I never quite get used to the idea or the quiet of my son not being under my roof. Mothers aren't supposed to get used to not having their babies.
Anyway, it's quiet because everyone's sleeping, and, as is common for me, I work best- think and feel best- deep into the night. Sometimes I feel so explosively creative, I wish I could bang on a piano and quite literally stay awake making noise or doing something, both inside and outside of my body, until the sun woke up, but I thought writing would be a more productive (and less destructive) way to channel my burst of late night/early morning energy.
I was thinking tonight about the lie of laziness. I remember when I was young, someone I cared about and who was fundamentally important to me, in a moment of rage told me I was lazy. I was probably 11 or 12. And maybe once a week, I replay that moment, when tears stung my eyes and I wanted to vehemently deny that accusation....but I couldn't.