How chit-chat changed my life

Yesterday, a co-worker and I were just chit-chatting when she mentioned that she was really excited that she was now vested in the 401k plan.

"Vested? I thought we were vested 100% from Day 1. Someone told me that," I responded.

"Check your online statement. You need to be here 3 years."

My initial reaction was irritation because I had asked and had been told that we were vested 100% from Day 1. We apparently that was the way is USED to be. And of course, I was asking the wrong person. Doh!

So I checked my online statement and sure enough the vested amount was about $8,000 less than the total. Damn.

Then I started doing the math. How long had I been at this job? Just over 2 1/2 years. My anniversary date will be in mid-June ... before Jack Bauer should be coming home. So if I want that $8,000 I need to stay until that 3-year anniversary date.

But of course, there is the time value of money. So that $8K is really much more if invested for the next 30 years. Now my retirement planning has consisted of contributing to my 401k and that's about it. I really had no idea how much money $8,000 might grow to be in 30 years. I was thinking like maybe $30,000. That sounds like a motivating factor.

As I drove home, I started thinking that I should find a financial calculator online and see really how much money that $8K might be in 30 years. Maybe it would be worth more. But I was shocked. Try $158,699.19 if invested with an 10% rate of return.

Uh, yeah. That changed my attitude about my job real quick. I've always maintained that the 401k offered by my employer is a sufficient enough reason to put up with a little bit of crap, but I think I just found 150,699 more reasons.

I love my job, I love my job, I love my job. That is my new mantra ... for the next 6 months.

Whatifland: I don't live there any more

I was just over at Spouse Buzz reading and commenting about arguing with your deployed spouse and regretting it if something were to happen. And as I was on my little sanctimonious stool, I was thinking that I needed to expand a bit on one thing I said: "Whatifland is not my principle residence any more."

I used to be comsumed by my residence in Whatifland. I took pills because I lived there. I had a high-power, high-paying job with a view of a park and a waterway from the 14th floor of a nice downtown buidling in Middleville. But the profession I was in was literally sucking the life out of me. I became depressed without understanding what that was about. I was so anxious about every little aspect of the job that I couldn't function properly (mentally or physically). After suffering for years with this, even with a psychiatrist's prescriptions for 2 SSRIs, I began to doubt myself. Once I doubted my ability, so did my bosses and clients. And it became a self-fulfulling profecy.

One day, I walked in and quit. No plan in mind. I just couldn't take it any more and something dramatic needed to happen. My employer and I worked out an arrangement where I stayed on for 3 months to settle my affairs, transfer my files, and have time to look for something else. (I have to say it, that was the best thing that firm ever did for me. They even paid for career counseling for me.)

I took a temporary job for 5 weeks then started at my current place of employment with Boring Co. In the interim, JD was trying to start his own business and work for the Army Reserves. Money was tight and I went off my meds cold turkey (uh, not recommended). I tried things on my own and was surprised to find life instantly better without the BIG career job. I dropped 10 pounds without really thinking about it. But it was also about this time that JD was beginning to figure out that he was going to eventually head off to Iraq. Life was still stressful.

What if JD dies?

What if JD comes back with PTSD?

What if JD has his legs blown off?

What if the Army Reserve pay system isn't just being late in posting the money and they actually forget about us one day?

It was through someone I met here at Boring Co. that I was able to start moving forward. Through a series of references I met a psychologist, a wonderful woman (I'll call her Lyn) who showed me that I could actually move out of Whatifland.

The psychiatrists I had been to before talked little about my problems and mostly wanted to medicate me. If you have ever been on that kind of medication (SSRIs), you know that it kinda makes you numb. It levels out your moods is a better description, but inside I felt numb. (For example, I was the one who always cried at movies and then on the meds that stopped.) I wanted to feel again, I wanted to be myself again. But I didn't want to live in Whatifland and be consumed by anxiety.

Reflecting back, what Lyn suggested seemed so simple, but I was open to do anything to not feel like I was feeling. She asked my religious background (I answered something like "Christian, but open to all philosophies") and suggested a book by a Buddhist monk. A Buddhist monk? "Open mind, open mind," I had to repeat to myself. I went to the library and checked out Peace is Every Step by Thich Nhat Hanh. Skeptical, I began to read. "Hmmm. This seems awfully cheery." But then I got to a section on conscious breathing and living in the moment, this present moment. Something clicked. I was starting to think less and be more. (Yes, that still sounds odd to me too.) Slowly. And steadily. Consciously and deliberately. I found I was leaving Whatifland. And I was living here and now. That ache caused by years of anxiety that used to be pervasive throughout my body was leaving.

Of course, since I do not live like a Zen master, I must actually think and plan for the future. But I do not dwell there. There is only so much we can control about the future. What I cannot control, I have to let go of. If not, it will consume me and I will be numb again.

I do not consider myself a Buddhist. But I recognize some practical aspects of Buddhism that are a good fit for me. We are all on our own paths. (I didn't actually say that, did I?) Take what works, leave behind what doesn't.

That reminds me, I still need to clean out the basement. Lyn will love that.

Could I be a professional typist?

Also found through Spouse Buzz...potential future employment ideas.

Anyone else putting all their blog-acquired typing skills to use as a medical transcriptionist? Hmmm. I definitely know the language (from my previous careers) and I can type pretty darn fast (from current job). We'll just have to wait and see.