Do What Scares You After A Job Loss

Who doesn’t love a puppy with their funny little run, wagging tails and slobbery kisses?  They are so cute, aren’t they?

A long time ago, I was one of the few people on the planet who did not like puppies.

Actually I was terrified of dogs. Any size, any kind.  It didn’t matter if they were on a leash, in a crate or behind a fence, or if they were the kindest, gentlest dog around, I was frightened beyond belief.

I wasn’t born afraid of dogs. My irrational fear of man’s best friend began when I was five.  The event that triggered this was apparently so horrific to me that my mind has blocked it from memory.

Mom tells me that our next door neighbor was a kind man with five extra-large dogs; giant poodles to be exact that were all taller than me.   Knowing that I was tiny for my age, he would keep them behind the fence when I was playing outside.

We were walking home from school one day and I ran ahead of mom; he didn’t see me in the yard and let the dogs out.  As the story goes, all five decided to rush me, knocking me to the ground and I couldn’t get up.

At that moment, I became deathly afraid of dogs.

The incident happened in Ohio and I was upset to learn that there were dogs in Texas when we moved here. Usually I walked home from elementary school. If I saw even the smallest dog or heard so much as a yip up ahead, I would alter my route, sometimes going blocks out of my way.

Once we visited cousins who had a very gentle Labrador.  In my terror-filled mind, it may as well have been a house-broken T-Rex. I remember climbing up on the shoulder of the sofa against the wall to get behind my parents who could “shield” me from the beast, lest he tried to give me a kiss.

Yep, that’s what trauma does to a person.

When I was ten mom and dad realized I was not outgrowing the trauma.  One day mom picked me and Sis up from school saying that she had ordered us a very special Christmas gift that we would have to share.  We were so excited about this gift, we ran into the house to find dad sitting in his chair reading the paper.  He had the gift!

He lowered the paper to reveal, of all things, a puppy. Augh! A baby T-Rex!

Sis jumped up and down; I took a giant step backward.  How dare mom and dad bring a beast into the house?

I was scared to death to get close to it.  Physically shaking. Afraid to touch it, especially the paws for some strange reason.

Mom pushed me forward and said, “Just try, please, just try”, as Dad put the beast on the carpet.

The beast couldn’t have weighed more than eight pounds and was so small that we could easily pick her up.  She came over and licked my feet, and I touched her head; her ears were so soft.  I don’t remember much after that except that suddenly we had a dog – she was MY dog – and I was calling all of my friends to come over to see her.

Mom and dad realized the importance of getting back in the game after a traumatic loss; getting back on the bike after falling off; or whatever metaphor you want to use here.

Same is true after a job loss. 

Losing your job is traumatic, in a way.  We lose not only our work and income, but our sense of identity, our daily purpose and social interaction.  Depending on the situation surrounding the job loss, there can be emotional trauma that makes us feel inadequate or insecure in our abilities – and that can make us fearful that we might fail at another job or even the interview to get the job.

The key is jumping back on the bike, grass in our hair, with both knees skinned and bleeding, to try again.  More than likely we will not fail.  The scariest part is trying.

Update your resume. Put your best foot forward.  Go on those interviews – the more you interview, the better you’ll become.

Do what scares you.  You’ll be amazed at what you can accomplish.