A Dream Deferred

I just sent my ex-boss/business-partner a long email letting him know, in a nice but brutally honest way, how his firing of me (and taking the magazine away from me) affected me. The hub thought maybe I shouldn't send it because it was good for me to just write it all down but I wanted the ex-boss to know what I went through and that I've worked hard to forgive him, not because he asked me to, but because NOT forgiving him has been killing me.

Since I lost the magazine in the spring of 2003, I've had 5 jobs, gained 70 pounds and racked up $12,000 in credit card debt. I think it's the freakin' understatement of the year to say that I haven't taken it very well.

So, I guess there's a pair of addictions for you - FOOD and SHOPPING. Sprinkle that with some unstable job history and you've got a classic nutball to serve guests at the holidays!!

That being said, the 5 jobs can be explained by Radio (HORRIBLE company to work for), HPC-TV (start-up company that didn't know what they were doing and were dying a slow death), the book gig (totally stupid and should never have taken it), the internet gig (if I hadn't let flirting with my work husband turn into such a problem, I probably would still be there) and now my current independent contractor position.

Also the debt is $4,000 in furniture and a lot of the rest (not all of course) we've used for living during periods of unemployment.

70 pounds has come from two sources, using food as a drug to get away from the pain (chocolate cake can get you as high as crack and be just as addictive) and bingeing until I was sick to punish myself physically for messing up the greatest job I ever had...even though I'm not entirely sure I messed it up but when you've gotta blame SOMEBODY, might as well blame yourself, right?

So if I turn into this huge blob maybe nobody will notice me anymore and ask me to do anything or put me on TV or have me give speeches with the governor's wife. Or maybe everyone will notice me because, despite being so fat, I'm funny and smart and witty and kind-hearted and still pretty even though I don't look like pop culture's definition of pretty.

Remember in the movie "Amadeus" how Salieri, the narrator, wanted so much to be great like Mozart but he was actually only mediocre? I think I'm terrified of living a mediocre life...aren't I supposed to have several novels published, host my own talk show and have a plus-size line of clothing by now?

Langston Hughes said it best:
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore-- And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over-- like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?