Perseverance 2

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
Hey, y'all, and thanks for joining me.

Speaker 2 (00:02):
And we're going to continue with all things family and
in these the next I don't know eight to ten
episodes are going to be about family perseverance. And I
put it in an actual story. That is, to be
honest with you, it's it's my story and my family story.
Now he's changed names, we've changed uh, specific situations and

(00:27):
things like that, because we don't need all of that
out there. But I want you to just get the
gist of this whole thing. So I'm pretty much reading
the book that I have written, So just kind of
lay back and listen and uh and then get lost.
I might get emotional if I do apologize in advance.
So if you listened last time, you know that we

(00:48):
were we were in an uncertain abyss I guess, and
I would call it rock bottom. And and now we're
This chapter is called Initial Reactions in Denial. The initial
shot gave way to just so many emotions of anger.

(01:09):
Raw and visceral was the first to surface. It was
a hot, burning coal in the pit of my stomach,
directed at the faceless corporation that had so carelessly discarded
my years of loyal service, my dedication my life. It
fueled sleeplessness, nights filled with furious pacing and muttered curses.

(01:31):
The injustice of it all just gnawed at me, a relentless,
gnawing beast.

Speaker 1 (01:38):
Why us, Why had we done?

Speaker 2 (01:40):
What had we done to deserve this? These questions echoed
in the empty spaces of our once vibrant home, the
hollow soundtrack to our new reality. My wife, Sarah reacted
very differently. Confusion clouded her eyes, a bewildering fog that
seemed to thicken with each passing day. She couldn't comprehend

(02:05):
the sudden shift, the abrupt tearing away of the stability
we had painstakingly built. She had always been the anchor
of our family, the calm amidst the storm, but this
storm was unlike.

Speaker 1 (02:19):
Any she had ever faced.

Speaker 2 (02:22):
The usual resilience that had characterized her seemed to crack
under the pressure, replaced by a stunned silence, a quiet
bewilderment that was almost more terrifying than my own rage.
The children, our three beautiful children, since the change that
the unspoken tension hanging heavy in the air, ten year

(02:45):
old Lily retreated into herself, Her bright spirit dimmed by
an unfamiliar sadness. Seven year old Tom, ever, the sensitive one,
became clinging, seeking constant reassurance, his small hand clutching mine
with a desperate strength that mirrored my own fear. And
then there was five year old Emily, whose innocent questions

(03:09):
about why daddy wasn't going to work anymore cut me
deeper than any corporate knife ever could. Her simple words
laid bare the devastating truth of our situation, a truth
I desperately wanted to shield her from denial. A cruel
and deceptive companion wrapped its tendril around me, whispering false

(03:33):
promises of a swift resolution. Surely this was a mistake,
a misunderstanding. There had to be some way to rectify this,
to undo the damage, to rewind the clock and return
to the life we knew. I spent hours pouring over
the termination letter, searching for loopholes, for a hidden clause,

(03:55):
for any sign that was all a horrific dream. I
skyward the internet, phrenetically researching employment laws, benefits, anything that
might offer a lifeline. Each dead end plugged me deeper
into despair. At despair, I desperately tried to mask from

(04:15):
my family, Sarah, in her quiet way, also clung to denial.
She'd maintained a facade of normalcy, particulously planning meals, ensuring
the children got to school, even attempting to maintain our
once carefree routines. But the strained smile, the fleeting glances
of despair, the way she'd often retreat to her sewing machine,

(04:38):
the rhythmic whirling of desperate attempts to drown out the chaos,
betrayed the truth of her inner turmoil. She would talk
about finding a new job for me, about new opportunities,
about how this could be a blessing in disguise, even
though the words ring hollow even to her own ears.

(05:00):
We created a strange, fractured reality, a world where we
pretended everything was all right, even as.

Speaker 1 (05:07):
Our world crumbled around us. Were the ink.

Speaker 2 (05:10):
We were the actors in a play, playing the roles
of a happy, functional family, while beneath the surface, fear
not at our inside. We laughed at the dinner table,
a nervous, forced laughter that didn't quite reach our eyes.
We planned family outings, knowing full well the money wasn't there.

(05:31):
We held hands during evening prayers, silently pleading for a miracle,
a divine intervention to pull us back from the abyss.
The initial weeks blurred into a montage of desperate attempts
to regain control. Resumes were sent out, job applications, fill

(05:52):
countless phone calls made only to be met with polite rejection,
silent phones, and the crush weight of the unanswered emails.
The silence of our home, once filled with the joyful
sounds of children, laughter and family conversation, was now deafening,

(06:12):
punctuated only by the occasional sob, a frustrated sigh, or
the quiet click of the computer keyboard as I searched, searched,
and searched for a solution. The pride I once held,
the sense of self worth built on years of hard
work and dedication, slowly began to erode. The humiliation of

(06:35):
being unemployed, of having to rely on the generosity of others,
was a bitter pill to swallow at nod at my confidence,
leaving me feeling helpless, exposed, and utterly worthless. The self
reliant man I had always been felt shattered, replaced by
a shadow of my former self, a man consumed by

(06:57):
doubt and fear. The thought of having to explain our
situation to family and friends, of having to ask for
help was agonizing a deep wound that refused to heal.
This was not the life I had envisioned, the life
I had promised my family. Sarah meanwhile, found solace in

(07:18):
her creativity. Her sewing machine became her sanctuary, a place
where she could momentarily escape the harsh realities of our situation.
The rhythm, the rhythmic calm of the machine became a mantra,
a form of meditation that helped her navigate the emotional
the emotions that she felt that were so deep. She

(07:40):
started creating a beautiful handcrafted items, selling them online, her
small enterprise becoming a lifeline of beacon of hope in
the midst of the darkness. Her quiet determination, her unwavering
resolve was a testament to her strength, her ability to
find a way to contribute to support our family, even

(08:02):
in the direst of circumstances. The children, too, adapted in
their own ways. Lily, after an initial period of withdrawal,
channeled her emotions into her art. Her drawings a poignant
reflection of the turmoil we were all experiencing. Tom's clean,
cleaniness gradually transformed into a surprising maturity, his understanding of

(08:27):
our situation far beyond his years, and little Emily, with
her unwavering optimism, remained a source of unwavering joy, her
infectious laughter, a reminder of the light that still flickered
within our family. As the days bled into weeks, the

(08:49):
initial shop began to fade, giving way to a more
insidious form of despair. The novelty of unapployment, The initial
adrenaline rush of crisis management, was placed by a crushing
sense of routine, monotonous cycle of applying for jobs, making calls, waiting, hoping.
The hope, however, was becoming increasingly tenuous, a fragile flame

(09:13):
threatening to be extinguished by the cold winds of reality.
We were clinging to a precipice, our grip weakening with
each passing day. The rock bottom we'd reached felt less
like a temporary setback and more like a permanent resting place.
This was our life now, or was it? The seed

(09:35):
of different thought began to take root, A tiny spark
of resistance, a whisper of defiance, ignited within the depth
of our despair. The fight for survival, the struggle to
rebuild was yet to begin. The silence in the house

(09:55):
was the worst before it had been.

Speaker 1 (10:01):
Before.

Speaker 2 (10:01):
It had been filled with the comfort hum of the
routine clattered of breakfast dishes, the rhythm thump of my
son Michael's basketball against the driveway, the melody of my
wife Sarah humming as she baked. Now the silence was

(10:29):
was thick and suffocating, suffocating blanket heavy within the unspoken anxieties,
simmering testaments. It was a silence punctuated only by the
occasional sigh, the rustle of papers.

Speaker 1 (10:45):
Sorry, excuse me a seconds.

Speaker 2 (10:49):
It was a It was a silent punctuated. It was
a silence punctuated on only by the occasional sigh, the
rustle of papers as I fractually searched for another job listing,
or the muffled sobs that escape Sarah's room.

Speaker 1 (11:12):
Late at night.

Speaker 2 (11:14):
Michael, usually a whirlwind of a teenage energy, had reiterated
into himself. His vibrant laughter, once a constant soundtrack to
our lives, was replaced by a broadening silence. He spent
hours in his room, the door firmly shut, his headphones
blasting music that violated through vibrated through the fourboards, a

(11:37):
sonic wall shielding him from the chaos around him. He
wasn't angry, not outwardly anyway. It was a quiet withdrawal,
a silent scream lost in the cacophony of our shared despair.
His grades plummeted, His once bright eyes were clouded with
a wariness beyond his years. I tried to talk to him,

(11:58):
to offer comfort, but my words felt hollow, inadequate against
the weight of his unspoken grief. The easy camaraderie we
once shared felt distance, fractured, like a vase shattered into
a million irrepairable pieces. Sarah bore the brunt of the

(12:18):
emotional fallout. The initial shock had given way to a deep,
unrelenting exhaustion. The vibrant woman who had once lit up
a room with her infectious energy, now moved through the
house like a ghost, her eyes hollow, her smile of
distant memory. The responsibility of keeping our family a folk afloat,
of navigating the bureautic maze of unemployment, benefits and debt

(12:43):
collection agencies fell heavy on her. She handled it with
a stoicism that both impressed and terrified me. Her quiet
strength masked a deep well of despair that I felt
quite eventually consume her. The conversations between us were strained,

(13:04):
laced with an under current of unspoken blame and frustration.
We were both drowning, clinging to each other, yet simultaneously
pushing each other away, each of us afraid to admit
the fear that gripped our hearts. The arguments were subtle
at first, simmering beneath the surface of our forced calm.

(13:25):
They began with a minor disagreement, a misplaced bill, a
missed deadline, a forgotten chore. Each sparked a small fire,
quickly fanned into flames by the pressure cooker environment of
our crumbling financial situation. We would snap at each other
over words, sharper than we intended, the resulting silence heavier

(13:47):
and more suffocating than before. The unspoken accusation hung in
the air, thick and acrid, poisoning the fragile remains of
our family unity. One evening, after yet another fruitless day
of job hunting, I found Sarah starting staring out the window,
her shoulders slumped, her face etched with lines of worry

(14:11):
I'd never noticed before. I approached hesitantly my words caught
in my throat. The usual comforting phrases failed me. What
can I say? How could I alleviate her burden, ease
her pain? Instead? I sat beside her, silent silence between us,

(14:31):
filled with a shared understanding of our plight, a mutual
acknowledgment of our profound helplessness. That night, I watched her cry,
silent tears, tracing paths through the dust on her cheeks,
a testament to the unbearable weight of our circumstances. The
shared grief, though painful, was a silent acknowledgment of the

(14:54):
bond that still held us together, a fragile thread in
the tapestry of our fractured family. The isolation was as
crushing as the financial hardship. Our friends, once plentiful, began
to fade from our lives. It's a subtle shift, a
gradual distancing that occurs when you're no longer able to

(15:15):
reciprocate the invitations, participate in the shared activities and contribute
to the social fabric. Their calls became less frequent, their
visits dwindled. They offered sympathy and condolences, yet their words
felt hollow. Our clumsy attempt to comfort, a situation they
couldn't possibly understand. The once open door to our home

(15:39):
became a barrier, a symbol of our shame and our isolation.
We existed on the per periphery, watching from the sidelines
as our friends moved on with their lives, their seemingly
effortless existence a start contrast to our own desperate struggle.
The small pleasures that once brought us joy were now

(16:00):
beyond our reach. The simple act of going out to dinner,
a movie, even a walk in the park had become
a luxury we could no longer afford. We were treated
further into ourselves. We shared activities, shrinking to the bare
minimum needed to survive. The vibrant tapestry of our family

(16:22):
life had been reduced to a stark monochrome, devoid of
color and joy. The weight of it all pressed down
on us, threatening to extinguish the last flickering embers of hope.
We were adrift in a sea of despair, our little
boat tossed about by the relentless waves of our misfortune.

(16:44):
Each day was a struggle, a fight for survival, and
with each passing day, the fear of being swallowed by
the sea became more palpable. Even the small interactions within
the family were fraught with tension. The shared meals, once
occasions of laughter and conversation, were now tense affairs, punctuated

(17:07):
by the clinking of the cutlery and the heavy silence
that followed. Even Michael's teenage grumble felt like accusations, his
sullen silence a constant reminder of our failure to provide
him with the life he deserved. The simple act of
preparing food, once a source of comfort and creativity, became
a chore, a mechanic process devoid of any pleasure. We

(17:31):
ate quickly, silently, the food tasteless, reflecting the bleakness of
our lives. The crushing weight of debt loomed over us
like a malevolent presence. The bills piled up on the
kitchen counter a stark visual reminder of our family, a
symbol of the impending doom. Each notification, each threatening letter,

(17:53):
chipped away at our already fragile sense of hope. We
avoided answering the phone, the ringing a harbinger of unwelcome news,
a reminder of the relentless pressure that bore down on
us from all sides. The silence of the unanswered phone
was somehow more terrifying than the angry voice on the
other end. The lack of sleep, fueled by a constant

(18:17):
state of anxiety and worry, exasperated the already strained relationships.
We were perpetually exhausted, our frayed nerves stretched to their
breaking point. The smallest disagreement could escalate to a full
blown argument, the words tumbling out of unchecked. Fueled by

(18:39):
fatigue and resentment, we lashed out of each other, our
words sharper than knives, leaving wounds that festered long after
the argument had subsided. The constant worry etched itself into
our faces, reflecting our collective exhaustion, our individual struggles, our
shared despair. Each morning showed a reflection distorted by our circumstances,

(19:04):
drawn faces, haunted eyes, the silent language of our collective suffering,
and yet amidst the darkness, a faint glimmer of hope persisted.
It wasn't a grand revelation or a sudden epithy epiphany,
but a quiet, stubborn refusal to surrender. It was a
shared look of understanding that passed between Sarah and me.

Speaker 1 (19:29):
Wait at night.

Speaker 2 (19:33):
A silent acknowledgment that we were in this together, that
we would face the storm together, however long and difficult
it may be. It was the way Michael, despite his
quiet withdrawal, continued to help with chores around the house,

(19:54):
a silent testament to his resilient, his quiet refusal to
succumb to despair. It was in these small gestures, these
subtle signs of resilience, that the seeds of our future
recovery began to take root. The fight was far from over,
but we would fight together.

Speaker 1 (20:12):
We had to.

Speaker 2 (20:13):
The very fabric of our family, though severely tested, was
still intact. The fractured bonds, though weakened, had not yet
completely broken. So that's good for today. That's about all
I can handle. So I hope you guys are kind
of getting into this and kind of getting a hold

(20:34):
of it, because we're going to be doing it, you know,
like I said, for another eight or ten episodes and
just kind of hanging there see where it goes. All right,
thank y'all for joining and until I see you next time.
God bless y'all.