Layoffs suck, but maybe ...

It's been a bad couple of weeks at my old employer and current client the Ventura County Star. They've laid off about 19 people, including the entire copy desk, which is being consolidated in Corpus Christi, Texas. I don't want to speak to the foolishness of a business model that calls for reducing and degrading content, but I would like to say that while I'm not a platitude kind of gal -- ask people living through the devastation of Haiti whether God gives them more than they can handle -- this really can be an opportunity to re-examine and reassess yourself and what you're doing with your life.

After my personal experience of leaving the Star almost five years ago, I was able to stop and figure out what I wanted to do. It wasn't easy and there were some false starts. I was going to try to open a day care back in 2007 and even went through all the expense and hassle of getting licensed, only to be hit by a truck while riding my bike the day I placed my first ad on Craigslist. My long recuperation made watching children impossible.

Looking back, it's probably best because the economic downturn has led to a marked decrease in need for child care. So I decided to keep plugging at being a freelance writer, which had always been my dream. But it wasn't until early 2008 that I got my first freelance jobs. I was contacted out of the blue to do some fact checking for a Sunset Magazine project and Julie Price at the Ventura County Star (who was laid off today) took a chance and let me start to write for her.

Since then, I've been able to establish myself as a writer with -- I hope -- a reputation for fairness, accuracy and reliability. The work has been our lifeline as Rob struggles with the aftermath of losing the sight in his eye and his subsequent lack of vision. Not only that, I love what I'm doing. I love going to people's homes and finding out about their lives and trying to convey their unique stories in a newspaper article. I love going to events around the county. I even love long, boring city budget meetings.

There's no job security and you only make money if you work, so it's kind of a piece-work approach to journalism. But I have my freedom and can spend my days in my lovely home with my doggies (even if they aren't so wonderful when they all start barking and I'm conducting an interview.) The anxiety level is always high -- worrying about making enough money and getting a steady stream of work. Overall, though, I love it.

Perhaps my fallen comrades will be able to stop and figure out what it is they have always wanted to do with their lives and find a way to accomplish that. While newspapers are struggling, the need for qualified, competent journalists has never been greater, as people develop an insatiable thirst for information.

I'm not smart enough to have figured out a business model for how the brave new world of journalism is going to make money. But I do know that the more you cannibalize your product, the closer you teeter toward failure. I also know that the mindless pursuit of unrealistic profit margins is not a long-term way to succeed.

I'm heartbroken for my colleagues and hope they will be able to begin new lives with perhaps a more realistic sense of priorities -- knowing that no company or corporation is worth selling your soul for ever again. It's time to reflect deeply; when you daydreamed as a kid what did you imagine yourself doing? I'm not talking about the pie in the sky dreams -- you're never going to be Spiderman -- but the ones of having your own family, living in a nice home, accomplishing some small success, making the world a better place.

Maybe you have creative aspects of yourself you've never pursued. Maybe you always had a passion for something --environment, outdoors, art history, marine biology, animal rights activism; now is the time to pursue the passion.

The most important and most palliative thing is whatever you decide to do -- start painting, become a big Brother or Big Sister, learn to surf -- whatever it is, get out of yourself. From personal experience, the worst times of my life have been when I get so consumed with my misery, I can barely function. There are a million volunteer groups, hobbies, subjects that all need to be explored. And if you get lucky, you just might find yourself getting paid for doing what you love.