This post is from my other blog. I’ve decided to post it here too, because it has a lot to do with fibromyalgia. From time to time, I’ll be writing follow-ups to this story on this blog and I wanted you to know the back story, so that it would make sense. So here it is:

Angels Angels Everywhere

April 8, 2008

For some reason, I’m having a hard time putting this post into words, but I’ll try. It’s probably going to sound all new-agey or hocus pocusy, m’kay? I have to say it though, so here goes.

Of all the great mysteries in my life, the one that has always puzzled me most is how fortunate I am. Things can get stinky bad, but really, the number of incredibly good people I’ve known and the kindnesses that I’ve witnessed have often left me feeling amazed and hopeful. Of course, when I’m on the receiving end of the goodness, I feel amazed too, but it’s mixed with a sense of being undeserving. Maybe that’s the Catholic maternal/ Jewish paternal genetic double-whammy, or some Wayne’s World “I’m not worthy” thing, but it’s true. When it gets right down to it, no one owes me anything, and the good stuff is just icing on the cake. I’ve gotten so much icing, and I can’t for the life of me understand why. This isn’t some sort of false modesty, it’s just fact. Over and over again, just when I feel that I’ve reached my lowest ebb, something wonderful happens.

My supervisor e-mailed me last week to see if we could get together, “to discuss business and because I miss you!” I missed her too– we hadn’t spoken for months. She is one of the feistiest, smartest people on the planet, and I learned so much from her. Unfortunately, my physical health dwindled considerably while I was working for her, and I felt less competent and productive than I ever had. I took a leave of absence last summer, thinking that I’d rest and regain my strength, but I never did. What started as a short term leave, ended up being forever. I felt exhausted, depressed and embarrassed, and when my long term disability claim was rejected by the insurance company, I didn’t appeal their decision. I had grown tired of jumping through hoops trying to prove my case, and of struggling to retain my job, because the more I fought, the worse my condition became. I’m embarrassed to admit that I gave up. Not just the job. I gave up my self-esteem, my identity as a competent worker, and my refusal to succumb to Fibromyalgia. While I was with this corporation, the department I was in was outsourced. Most of us became contract workers, and there was a severance package involved at the end of the assignment. So, I gave the severance up too.

I e-mailed my supervisor back and told her that I had a doctor’s appointment in Columbus on Wednesday. We agreed to meet for lunch afterward.

“So what are you two going to talk about?” Tom asked.

“Well, I imagine that she has to ‘officially’ fire me at some point,” I told him. “So, we’ll get that over with, and then we’ll just catch each other up on life.” I was mentally preparing for it. Although I knew I was already canned, I promised myself that I wouldn’t cry when I heard the word “termination.”

We met. We hugged. We ate. We talked. She did not terminate me, although she very nicely offered it as an option. She also said that I could resign. But what she wanted me to do was to try coming back to work, not even for the entire length of the contract, which is probably sometime in July, but just until the end of May, so that I can collect my severance.

Okay, I’m crying. Hang on a second.

Okay, I’m back.

I told her that my body may not allow me to work as long or as steadily as I could before, but that I really wanted to try. We discussed the fact that I no longer live in Columbus, and she said that she’d check to see if she could find a place for me to live during the week. I said that I’d check around too.

The following morning, she e-mailed me back. A supervisor and a co-worker had each offered me places to stay, and another one offered today (I’ll still come home on the weekends).

I know I’m not explaining all of this well, but things have been so crazy this past week, and I’m kind of rushing through, trying to explain.

Here is the short version:

Just when things seemed that they couldn’t get much worse, I’ve been offered an opportunity to work for a few weeks at the job I held before my Fibromyalgia got so bad. We need the income, and if I can make it through to the end, I’ll have a small amount of money which we can use to move. If possible, I’m also planning to earmark a small portion of it for a teacup pup!!!!!!! It’s not a lot of money, but right now it seems like a fortune.

Time after time, this woman has gone to bat for me. She’s not only my supervisor, but my friend, and she never gives up on me. Her actions, and the fact that others have offered to open their homes to me overwhelms me. My coworkers are incredibly sweet. No one gains anything by doing all of this (in fact, they’re giving up some things). It’s just kindness, pure and simple, and it makes me feel very humbled and emotional.

See what I mean? I’m not kidding about all of the “Touched by an Angel” stuff that happens to me. I’ve been so lucky to have known so many angels.

Obviously, my life’s going to change drastically for about a month and a half. I’m not sure how often I’ll be able to write, but I’ll post when I can. I’ve been reading your blogs, but my brain’s been a little too scattered to comment right now. I promise, I’ll play catch up soon. The people at work aren’t the only angels I know.

I’ve got to go start packing.

Note: The guy in the photo has nothing to do with any of this. I just love the picture.