Dysfunction, Chocolate, and Starting Over

How losing my job and watching reruns of The Middle helped me find healing in the most unexpected way

The Middle

I guess many of us find solace in being associated with any flawed TV character. Is it the beautiful wreck, the chaotic mix of emotions, the disgracious and unsettling silences, or the ways they spoil everything — the dinner, the deadlines, and everything in-between? I find refreshing relief in the way they portray everything, feeling a little more human if not alive in the process.

Most Especially now.

I recently lost my job. One day, like any other, had me completing what needed to be done like email answering. The next unwarrantedly turns ‘my world’ upside down. No drama, no lightning before the storm, no will-he-won’t-he, and then… things are simply gone.

When this life shattering event struck, I didn’t deviate towards crying or screaming. Instead, the fingers zeroed into self-spiraling and I sat still, not moving an inch.

And then, without realizing, the shoulder shrug ensued and cabin fever became a reality. It may sound boring and lacking intrigue and drama, but for anyone who has lost something fundamental when it comes to work-life routine, this nagging feeling might hit

Amidst all of this noise, there is silence in lacking one clear option. Move on to the next moment. Relish in the peace that exists when there is nothing left to prove.

Walking a lot, as you can tell, is my newfound hobby this season for loss, alongside my good old streak of thinking, sans instrument clusters or noise filters.

And re-runs.

The Middle is what ensnared me. A show from years ago that I’d almost forgotten about. I used to admire it for the humor, the madness — relatable madness. The sort of mindless television that requires minimal commitment.

But now, in this surreal gray area of what’s next, it surprised me in ways I didn’t anticipate.

The mother, Frankie Heck, was no longer just a character — she was me.

Patricia Heaton as Frankie Heck

She’s weary, she forgets. She tries and often fails. She means well but is perpetually drowning in overdue bills and forgotten permission slips. But there is, however, an ember — polished but raw — that shouts, “I’m still here.”

The mayhem of watching her struggle and fumble made me chuckle at first. But, mid-season two, I broke down into tears.

Not a cute, silently weeping tear rolling down your cheek kind of cry. This is an absolutely, shockingly, heart-shattering explosion cry.

Because that was me out there.

I noticed how I have tried to hold things together using duct tape and hope. All of the times I arrived at work, church, or family gatherings with a smile on my face while a storm was raging in my head. You know, the part of me that relies on the fumes of my spirit, mutters prayers in soft whispers, but still turns up.

And there’s Sue Heck.

Sweet, awkward wide eyed Sue. The girl who is furiously optimistic and wears off brand shoes. The one who doesn’t quite make the cut when it comes to having everything work out for her. But she always manages to land at the top of the list of those who tries really, really hard.

I would have rolled my eyes at her while growing up. This is way too peppy, too much.

Now, she absolutely melts my heart because deep down, I’m also Sue.

Every time I send out job applications only for them to resign to the eternal void. Every time a write something that means so much to me and gets released and in the end, fails to settle the storm. Every time I decide to step with hope and chance it all over again only to find the door unyielding.

Like Sue, I keep getting back up, sending emails, trying again and again, pressing that publish button.

Eden Sheer as Sue Heck

There’s something so remarkable about her that I find soothing and deep, and even therapeutic in some sense, particularly in those earlier on episodes.

I would sit there and stare at the television while eating a chocolate bar and thinking. Sometimes, I would have to pause mid-bite because a scene struck me harder than expected. For example; Frankie reminding herself she’s doing enough, Mike, that Midwestern father figure providing quiet support in a tough old man’s sorta way, or Sue celebrating a win that went unnoticed by everyone else.

The weight of all these moments hit me differently now and life feels different.

Now, I am in my forties and no longer twenty. I no longer recover as quickly, or pursue dreams as rapidly. However, I do continue to chase after them, but much more slowly and meticulously than before. It is through prayer that I do it.

Being unceremoniously let go from my position forced me to confront the reality that I was trying to avoid. That is, a very important aspect of life that I, without a doubt, was taken for granted; my daily routine. What becomes of a person when social expectations are stripped away? One takes away the alarm and all the superficial titles in your life, what do you eventually become?

For me? The answer came in the form of copious chocolate and reruns of silly sitcoms.

Pinterest

Perhaps not profound, but surprisingly, deep healing is brought to you by the softest of comforts. Those characters from the show reminded me I stood the ability give, something beyond bare bones entertainment, my reflection. They filled my mind with endless thoughts and allowed me, rather, fictional characters to be freely disheveled and uncertain of their next move.

So why not me?

When it comes to planning my future, I don’t think I have a ‘five year plan’. Frankly, the nearest clear cut plan I have is next week. All I know is my urge to write and to tell stories in the same way Frankie and Sue told me. Hey, I am an optimist and that is the approach I would like to take for this chapter in my life.

No, no — you put it correctly. There are a plethora of paths that one can take and I personally think that them lying around us with seamless pretense tucked neatly under resumes and filters.

In their attempts to hide this truth, people fail to accept how beautiful this actually is.

Anyways, here I am — with no title or office to my name and an unparalleled urge to strive for something greater than myself. My spirit is bruised, but I assure you it has are not broken. And, I what I think, will be enough for now.

Till I can finalize anything, my heart will figure it out around one thing I’ve figured — I will always have a solution, ultimately. In the meantime, stock chocolate, keep writing and of, ease back and observe.