Therapeutic to lose a job

Sometimes, it is therapeutic to lose a job, to lose your shreds of dignity , fall Ill and be isolated within the four walls of your home .
At first, comes the self pity and mourning . Being alone with one’s physical vulnerabilities and dealing with the demons of those long, dark shadows of mortality, lurking in the mind as the fever rises, can be a cathartic experience , especially when one realizes that despite all your frailty, you are programmed to fight back.
It’s all about facing your fears, confronting the ogres of doubt and doom, holding dark, brooding cynicism firmly by its hair.
When you are all by yourself, life seems reduced to an existentialist conundrum.
No glittering neons, no tinkling laughter, no intimate circle of buddies, it’s just your shallow , phlegmatic breath, and a rhythmic fade out and fade in as the mercury rises and falls .
Isolation also teaches you to marvel at the unstinting regularity of everything in God’s world . You may be dying, but the earth does not miss its date with the perfect sunrise or sunset or full moon and no moon . It’s as though life continues it’s dance without even missing a step; even if your sorry existence were to be snuffed out , it would be business as usual on earth.
It’s a sobering thought to accept what you always knew all along – that “You” are not the centre of the earth .
As the fever fades and ego gets to shape like a deflated balloon being filled back with hot air , one picks up the pieces of life, humbled about many profound realizations on the smallness of self and the vastness of context .
Trying to rebuild one’s place under the sun, one day at a time, making sure that even though one may not matter to anyone , one matters enough to oneself to get out of the damn sickbed to make a difference to one’s life .
It’s business as usual as one begins the same damn existentialist moves, it’s the season for survivors after all !