Enduring the Government Shutdown of 2013 Changed Me Forever

As a federal employee, I understand much of the pain and suffering that is going on right now with the government shutdown. Though I am not affected by the current shutdown—I am currently on Leave Without Pay—I was in 2013, and the things that I learned from that experience changed me forever.

When the government shutdown occurred back then, I had been with the federal government for nearly 15 years—first with the military, then as a civilian employee. I was a GS-12 or 13 at the time, which meant that I was just beyond treading water financially, but there was little room to spare. Like many of my colleagues, I lived paycheck to paycheck and could not afford to put money in savings. (Outsiders—and politicians—often have a warped view of how much money federal employees make and they seem to forget how expensive it is to live in our nation's capital.) 

When the shutdown was announced, I was excited at first. I wanted to go hiking and ride my motorcycle in the beautiful fall weather. My naiveté and unrelenting optimism saw it as a break from the daily grind. I anticipated that the shutdown would be short-lived. I had believed that we'd be back to work almost immediately and my dreams of playing outside would be cut short. I could not have foreshadowed the dark places the shutdown would take me. 

OPTIMISM TURNED TO DARKNESS

Within a few days, excitement turned to concern and, with no end in sight at the weekend's end, worry. Everyone wondered whether or not we would be paid. People had their opinions. Some were sure we would be paid. Others thought we'd receive back pay. Long-time veterans warned that there was precedent for not getting paid at all, that that had happened before. I didn't know if that was true or not, but decided that it would be wise to behave as though it was. I vowed not spend a dime as long as I was furloughed. 

So, I sat. I sat and I sat, and then I sat some more. I watched CNN day in and day out for word of when I would be going back to work, which when you think about it, is disturbing in and of itself. The furlough began to take a toll on my mental health. I could not go anywhere. I could not spend any money. I was prohibited from working. I felt trapped and hopeless. I was jealous of people who were working. I became angry that I was being used as pawn in a political game. I was a human being, not an inanimate object in a game of chess. I deserved better treatment. I had dedicated my entire adult life to serving my country. And that was the problem. 

MY JOB WAS MY LIFE

I was married to my job. My self-worth and value as a human being had been so tightly wrapped up in my career that once it was stripped away, I felt worthless. All of the job security that I had reveled in had evaporated. I was vulnerable, lost. I wondered, What the hell would I do if I lost my job? What would I do with my life? Self-doubt crept in. What would I do? changed to, What could I do? I did not have any transferrable skills, or so I thought. I had been institutionalized by the federal government for so long that I had no idea how to survive outside of it. I was completely dependent. I wondered, What am I good at doing? My job, I thought to myself. The downward spiral grew deeper. 

My friend Ralph, who was like a father to me, stopped in for a visit during the furlough. "You look like hell," he stated. By this time I must have looked like the female version of Mr. Mom. "The problem is that when your job isn't going well, you aren't going well," he said. "You are not your job. You must find something else to do." He was right. He asked, "If you could do anything in the world, what would it be?"

I couldn't answer the question right away. I had not had the luxury of dreaming since I was a very young child. I had been just trying to survive, doing what was necessary to make ends meet. Eventually, I said, "I think I'd like to be a documentarian. I'd want to make short black and whites covering a range of social justice issues or something like that. But, I don't know anything about that. Art maybe. Though, I don't know anything about that either." Ralph assured me that I could learn. But this was pie in the sky and it did not relieve the immediate crisis at hand. 

UNCERTAINTY IS THE DEVIL

I had to find another revenue stream, or at least find something to pass the time so I would not wallow any deeper in self-pity. I had a knack for organizing and decluttering, so I posted on Facebook that I was available to help organize people's things during the furlough, just to give me something to do. A friend took me up on the offer and I spent two days helping her dig out of her overstuffed closet. Helping her got me out of my head for those few days. But it wasn't sustainable. I had to get serious about my job dependency problem.

I was on the verge of a mental breakdown by the second week of the furlough. The depression was real and I was struggling to hold it together. The uncertainty was taking a real toll. My significant other at the time had been less than understanding about the entire thing. He was self-employed and worked from home. He was annoyed and frustrated that I was home everyday—as if I had had a choice—and he wanted me to get out of his way. Ralph, and his wife Shirley, had said that I could stay with them, so I packed my bag. As I headed for the door, my boyfriend apologized for being such a jerk and asked me not to leave. That's when I realized how hard that the furlough had been on him, too. He offered to help me financially if necessary and his assurance gave me a little bit of space to breathe. 

On day eight, I broke my vow of financial abstinence. I went to the art store and bought some paint, brushes, canvases, and a cheap easel. I had never painted anything before and had no idea what I was doing, but I didn't care. I set the easel up in front of the tv and slabbed the paint on the canvas as I listened to CNN in the background. I liked the way the paint felt when I smeared it against the canvas. It was meditative. I used the brightest colors and moved them about with no intentionality. I mixed acrylics and oils and spray paint too. There were no rules, no guidelines. I just painted. Hours passed and for the first time in the face of uncertainty, I felt peace.

OVERCOMING

As the furlough dragged through the second week, one thing became absolutely clear to me: I would never allow myself to be put in this situation again. Never again would I allow my mental health to be sacrificed for my country or my career, nor would I pigeonhole myself into a profession. Never again would my self-worth be determined by my employment status. Never again would my portfolio of life look like a flat, straight, cement sidewalk. Instead, it would be a magnificent, dynamic tree filled with a variety of flowers and fruits of all different colors, shapes, sizes, smells, and tastes. 

We went back to work on a Thursday, 17 days later. The exhaustion on the faces of my colleagues told me everything; it was unforgettable. One colleague even said that she had wished they would have let us start on Monday and given us the weekend to recuperate from the trauma of the uncertainty. I had not been alone in my struggle. But now, I was awake.

Like a phoenix rising from the ashes, I changed my life after the furlough. I became an understudy of Suze Orman and overcame my financial ignorance. I changed my financial circumstances so I would no longer have to live paycheck to paycheck. I bought a new camera and brushed the rust off of my photography skills. I joined a local art community. I registered for film courses at the local community college. I started a blog. I hiked across Spain. Since 2013, I have pursued several different endeavors and I have remained steadfast in my determination to never, ever be anyone's pawn ever again.

IF NOTHING CHANGES, NOTHING CHANGES. 

The current government shutdown offers something new and something old. What's new? News coverage of the very real plight and suffering of federal employees and contractors who are working to protect the country without pay or are furloughed altogether. What's old? Federal employees once again being taken hostage by politicians. Some federal employees will start looking for other jobs. Others will retire. Fewer will be recruited. Some will be okay. Some will go hungry. Many will suffer financially. Undoubtedly, no one who endures a shutdown will be the same when it's over. 

It would behoove this new Congress to immediately and unanimously pass a bill that would prevent federal government shutdowns from being used as a means to achieve an end. Forget the financial impracticality of it and just think about the fact that the government is starving its own people and forcing many—its own employees—to work for free, kind of like slavery. Yeah, let that sink in. It's happening right here, right now, in 2019, in the good ol' US of A.