Two Days In August
How the two worst days of my life drove me into a torturous purgatory… and how I climbed out of it.
The year 2016 started off beautifully. I had just accepted a promotion at work. A little more money was coming in, which was perfect because my wife and I were preparing for our second child, Thomas, who was due in April. Our first born, Jackson, was halfway to three and already hitting us at our waist. It still stunned me how much this little monster had grown in just nearly two and a half years.
When Thomas arrived, I had the benefit of being able to use six weeks of full-pay family leave (which I split up) along with a week of vacation time. I took care of the house and boys during the moments where my wife would sleep. I helped plan and execute a bachelor party in Las Vegas for my brother-in-law and his buddies. My wife, the boys and I spent a few days in the Monterey Peninsula. As a finale to my time off, the brother-in-law’s beautiful wedding was a joyful family experience, which was followed by the joy of watching Portugal win the European Championship (futbol). I treasured those weeks. I enjoyed every second of it. My happiness was at a peak.
Then, two events ripped that happiness from me. Two events within thirty-six hours of each other.
On August 24th, I was the recipient of what I went on to dub an “involuntary career change.” I was let go. The place of business that I had called home for nearly ten years had just thrown me out. I had barely been back to work and just like that, like a Mad Titan snapping his gloved fingers, it was gone. The years I spent driving sixty miles round trip. The excitement I had clocking in at a company that I had adored since the age of ten. The friendships I had built with insanely talented individuals. The city that I had come to respect. All of it was gone with one phone call and one mail delivery.
I was stunned. I was defeated. My heart was racing. Failure washed over me as I looked into my wife’s eyes and explained to her what had just happened. Panic set in as I looked at my two sons, having no clue what to do next. That’s when my brain took over and did what it has a habit of doing sometimes: pile on.
“Congratulations, loser. You lost your job. You have a wife, two boys, two cats, a dog, a mortgage and a car payment. Now, what are you going to do? Way to go, failure.”
My brain is both my greatest creative tool and harshest critic. Whether it be coming up with an idea for a story or rationalizing a situation, my mind handles those well. Yet, those moments where my confidence lacks, my brain will amplify by ten and continue to do so if I allow it. At this moment in my life, I gave my brain the fuel to bombard myself with negativity. At this very second, I was an unemployed father with no hope of anything in the future. I laid in bed that evening, panicking about the future. Sleep wasn’t happening.
Then, came the next day.
On August 25th, My wife and I were preparing to go to the local Farmers Market with the boys. We saw it as something that would briefly take my mind off the event of the day before. Then, my phone rang. It was my cousin Caela from Southern California. I answered it and stood in silence as she broke down in tears and explained to me that our cousin Blake, who was fighting his second bout with cancer, had just succumbed to it. I crouched down to the floor and cried. Blake was twenty-five years old. He was the youngest of our generation of cousins. He was a fighter. He was a loving soul. He was full of life, rarely seen without a smile on his face. And now, he was gone.
My wife and I made the drive to Southern California for Blake’s funeral. I kept my current unemployment status to myself, telling only my cousins Eric and Bobby, the cousins who are more like brothers. It was good to be around the family, but it was incredibly heartbreaking to say goodbye to Blake. My face may not have shown it, but inside, I was a hurricane of emotion.
I was saddened that there would never again be a new moment with Blake. There would not be any special family events where he would be present. I could only relive the past. Drinking side by side at a bachelor party in Lake Tahoe. Joking around while listening to the Dirty Heads poolside outside Los Angeles. I even went back to the first time I met Blake, when he was just four years old. This little fireball of energy with a huge smile on his face who came running at me full force to deliver a tackle. All that would remain in the past. There would be nothing new to experience because Blake was gone.
For the next few weeks, my mind made sure I never forgot the events of those days. I would go to bed at night feeling like a failure. I would wake up in the morning already grappling with panic and defeat. I felt like I was lost at sea and my mind, instead of wanting to find a way out, wanted only to remind me of where I failed.
“You had a well paying job. You had benefits and good healthcare for your family. Now, look at you. You lost it all. Now, your wife has to work harder. Way to go, ‘Husband Of The Year.’ You suck.”
If it were not for my wife, I don’t know where my brain would have taken me. Her constant support for me gave me a balance I needed, but it was ultimately up to me to get over this obstacle. It would be the mixture of her words and presence along with my own drive and willingness to push harder that would bring back the side of my mind that was positive. The side that would get creative and create a solution when all seems lost. I would even gain inspiration from my favorite medium of entertainment: motion pictures.
Suddenly, I was relating to every film I’d watch. I connected with Christian Bale’s Bruce Wayne in The Dark Knight Rises, a hero who suffers a severe emotional and physical setback only to “make the climb” and take back his mantle. I connected with Russell Crowe’s James J. Braddock in Cinderella Man, a washed-up boxer who gets a second chance at glory, this time for the good of his family. I watched Robert Downey Jr.’s Tony Stark battle panic and anxiety in Iron Man 3 and saw myself at times. I witnessed Tom Hanks’ Chuck Noland in Cast Away make it off that island only to witness how the world has changed and not sure what path he should take next. Watching Will Smith’s Chris Gardner in The Pursuit Of Happyness was like a knife to the heart. These were all movies I had seen before, but now they took on a whole new meaning. At that moment, the optimistic side of my brain made its resurgence.
Now, instead of drowning myself in my own sorrows, I was thinking of different ways to pull myself up. First was my writing. I threw my past material on the web and thanks to a friend of mine passing it on, an entertainment website took me on as a contributor on the side. My hobby of writing was now a side job. Check.
Next up, wedding officiant duties. Since 2009, I had performed weddings for couples throughout California, but it was no more than maybe two or three a year. I decided to take the next step and make it an official job title. I set up a Squarespace account, made a website/email combination, created social media accounts and a Yelp page. Now, eight months since that time, “Ceremonies By Esteves” is my official side business where I offer my ordained minister status to any couple who wishes to unite in matrimony, no matter their denomination. Check.
Finally, after being lucky enough to be allowed back to my old part-time Parks & Recreation job thanks to a close friend from high school and a boss who valued my work from years before, along with scrolling through the pages of Indeed and LinkedIn, I applied for and was eventually hired on to a full-time position that allowed me to do what I love to do: write. Check.
It’s been two years since the two worst days of my life and I’m happier. Not just because I now have a full-time job. It’s because I have learned from my experience in the past. I know what being defeated feels like. I experienced a small taste of what darkness looks like. I know what it is like to feel like there is no hope. I know what it is like to allow your mind to stay negative and constantly criticize yourself. I am forever grateful to the people in my life who helped me, especially to the strong, intelligent and loving woman who I am lucky enough to call my wife and the mother of our children.
I also learned the importance in staying creative, adapting to change and to always be evolving. I am grateful to have this new job, but I also have many other things I plan to do. Many other creative options in the world of writing that I plan to delve into. I owe it to myself to bring back that creativity I put on hold for that decade. I owe it to those around me. I owe it my wife and those children of ours. I owe it to Blake.
Like Russell Crowe’s James J. Braddock said, “Now I know what I’m fighting for: milk.”
— “The Azorean One” Anthony Esteves is a member of The Capeless Crusaders podcast & contributor to Latino Review Media. He has also appeared on The Virtual Couch with Tony Overbay.
