As I reflect on the time I spent being unemployed, I keep coming back to the same thing: I felt like I was in a particular episode of the Twilight Zone that I saw growing up. It aired during the first revival of the original series, in the 80’s. The episode was “To See the Invisible Man.” The central character, Mitchell Chaplin, was found guilty of a crime and his punishment was to be rendered “invisible,” a social outcast, for one year. A scarring implant placed on his forehead warned others to ignore him on penalty of being sentenced to a similar fate. The punishment was meant to be a lesson in humility, compassion, and empathy.
Misfortune after misfortune befalls Chaplin, with his lowest point reached when he is denied medical care after being hit by a car.
Four months after completing his sentence, Chaplin is approached in public by a woman who wears the scar of an implant. Knowing the law, initially he ignores her, but her crying moves him to turn around and hug her. As they are surrounded by drones warning him of a new sentence of invisibility for his crime, he declares that he can see the woman and that he cares.
He had learned his lesson in humility, compassion and empathy well.
This story has many parallels to my experience being unemployed – and I will share two with you: (1) Being unemployed WAS like being invisible – I tried to reach out to people who made an effort to avoid me, and (2) I promised myself that once I found a job I would “see” the invisible people (it is part of the reason I am writing this post.)
To help me remember the lessons I learned from being unemployed I sent myself an email to the future. The email is set to arrive four years from now. I vaguely remember what I wrote, but I am looking forward to reading it. In it I told myself in as much detail as I could muster all the things I felt. It was an incredible healing experience for me then, and I know it will be again, when I read it in the future. Perhaps this can help you too…
Visit http://futureme.org/ to send the future you an email. Tell yourself what today was like.
Very poignant, Lou.
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