Nickled and Dimed at 49

Losing a job in your late 40's creates a great sense of loss--of identity, of security, and of purpose that is compounded by worries about the ability to save for retirement.  Loss of income is especially stressful because unemployment benefits barely cover the bills let alone the costs of looking for a job.  A career coach or counselor can cost  $50 to $500 per hour and networking events in my area cost $5 -$40.This is not to mention the reams of paper, business card stock and Inkjet cartridges that I have had to purchase for snail mail responses.

I write grant proposals as a contractor but I lose a day of unemployment for each day I work and my work is taxed at 15 percent by Uncle Sam. I

Appeal letters from local and national charities pour through the mail slot and I have received several calls from the Fraternal Order of Police. Even though I explain that I'm unemployed and can't give right now, some callers quickly brush past my response and back into their "but you'll be helping the families" appeal.

Obama was on the mark when he said, "It's every man for himself" when he was campaigning. The rich want tax breaks; charities want more donors; and the retailers want us to spend what we don't have on stuff we don't need to support shareholder demands for more profit. Meanwhile, my husband just asked if we're going to give each other three presents for Christmas this year. 

Maybe we need to take a deep breath and consider how the global economic meltdown has changed our reality and look to a different model of economics because the current one is clearly unsustainable.  How can anyone hope for more profits and more money while unemployment rate hovers at 10 percent?  If I can't afford to bake cookies, how can I afford to pay $50 to attend a gala to support cancer research?

I don't want to be the Grinch who stole Christmas but I'm beginning to feel like Jimmy Stuart in "It's a Wonderful Life" and could use a little charity myself.

Going to Pieces - Not Falling Apart

I woke up at 3 a.m., drenched with heart palpitations and numerous questions running through my head. Should I go back to school? Should I start a business? Will anyone hire me?

Like a rat looking for cheese, I have been to several interviews for jobs that don't seem to fit.  "There has to be a better way," I thought.

To calm my mind, I pulled Mark Epstein’s Going to Pieces Without Falling Apart off of my husband’s shelf.  In reading, I realized that I could be short-circuiting a process that will lead me to what will truly make me happy.

A mind that is full cannot take in anything new," the master explained. "Like this cup, you are full of opinions and preconceptions." Wisdom and happiness are to be found only by emptying one's cup.

A full mind is a blocked mind.  I don't think that I'll magically manifest a job if I forget about it.  But I might get better results if I refrain from patching up my ego with an advanced degree or a red sports car.  I will sure as heck owe less money.

To Gray or Not to Gray

I considered giving up hair color after the holidays, but  my husband assured me that I would look much older.  "It'll age you," he said.  "You'll look like Cruella DeVille."

Ouch.

I'm tired of the monthly coloring ritual.  The dye messes up our towels, gets on my clothing and sometimes makes my hair turn a most unappetizing color.  To get away from the harsh chemicals, I tried a chamomile tea rinse that lightened my auburn hair to a flaming red. Henna is drying and coffee doesn't do much of anything.  

I admire Journalist Anne Kraemer,  who went gray at 48 and hope that I will look as good as Helen Mirren when I stop coloring. But I'm not convinced that going gray won't hurt my career.  Aftr all, you don't see Diane Sawyer, Oprah, Condoleezza or Hillary showing their true colors. 

Lets face it.  Women haven't come as far as some would like to think.  Though we've moved up the corporate ladder, become world-class athletes, and gone to the moon, we have clung to our youth like a ferocious lion guarding her cubs.  We've come a long way, but the road doesn't end here.