The Stages 1) Sadness 2) Barf 3) a Mix Tape

Years ago, TV reporter Betty Rollin wrote a memoir called First, You Cry about her experience being diagnosed with breast cancer and then having a mastectomy (later made into a movie of the week with Mary Tyler Moore, natch). I kept thinking of that title the first few days after my husband called me on the way home from work one day to say we had lost the majority of our net worth. That we had invested in a scam. I was on my way to pick up Vivien from school. I was numb for a few minutes, but as I saw Vivien drawing near with her teacher, my eyes welled up, and I couldn’t keep quiet.  I blurted to her teacher what I had just found out and started crying, hard.  The teacher was very nice.

“We are going to have to sell our house,” I cried. I tried to pull it together and asked Viv to come home with me. She was not budging; she was pissed at my emotional outburst. That would be the last time I cried in front of her.

That evening I dropped Vivien off at my mother’s. I had to be alone. I drove around town in hysterics. I called my family members sobbing like you do when you’re a kid. I called one of my best friends and did the same. They were all stunned.

Mark and I had calm talks about what was best to do. We could stay in the house for as much as two years, but then if the economy didn’t turn around I’d be afraid it would like Grey Gardens, and then we’d have to sell it, cats and all. The first night I woke up every 45 minutes and vomited.  I spent a day returning all our Christmas presents except for most of Vivien’s (I couldn’t part with her recently requested super hero costume), and I kept back one each for my stepsons and Mark.

I cancelled every trip we had planned, told my pilates instructor to consider me dead. I cast about for things to sell. An older friend said, “Yeah, when people we’ve known have gone through this, they always panic and sell too much of their stuff.”  I was so taken aback.  I was so deep in my grief, pain, shock that I thought, “He knows people who have gone through this? There is a pattern?”  Kind of like after a break-up, I figured MY pain was the ONLY pain.

A few days later, I went next door and cried to my neighbors. They told me that they had a different kind of downturn and would soon be decamping to a rental apartment. That’s when I started to realize it was better to talk about it, and how widespread this reversal was.

Over the holidays, my wonderful stepdaughter Vanessa visited. She has amazing strength. She had lost her own money but was more concerned with us. She would say, “What can I do for you?”  I would often say, “Please play with Vivien; I have to go and lie down.” Not just ’cause I was 7 months pregnant, but because I was emotionally fatigued and wanted to cry in private without Vivien seeing me. And as I have often said, “When the going gets tough, the Brogdons go to bed.”

I kept waking up at 5 a.m., unable to go back to bed. I was scanning for new Madoff developments. To read that he was still in his NY penthouse at this time galled. I would look and see what houses were going for. I would look at Craigslist to gauge how much I could sell a couch for.

But one morning I woke up thinking these feelings were parallel to a bad break-up.  And I asked myself what I used to do after a break-up to help me get through it. Sleep with a stranger? No, that made me feel worse. Starved myself and lost 10 lbs.?  No, I’m pregnant, have to protect the baby. Ah, I used to make a mix tape. Eureka.

I went down to my computer and I made a mix called “ripped off”. It started with Frank Sinatra’s “That’s Life”

“You are riding high in April, shot down in May.”  How true.

Then the part where you want your lover/money back.  “Why,” Annie Lennox.

You want to feel the love/security of money one more time? “Touch Me in the Morning,” Diana Ross.

Just full blown wallow “We Are the Broken Hearted,” Back Porch Mary.

And then why did I date that guy/ why wasn’t I more diversified?  “What Kind of Fool Am I ?” Sammy Davis Jr.

Then a little anger creeps in… “Ain’t No Way to Treat a Lady,”  Helen Reddy.

Survival… “Knowing Me, Knowing You” by Abba; “Don’t Look Back” by the Temptations, and of course like any good post break-up, I had to put on: “I Will Survive” by Gloria Gaynor.

Followed by Sam Cooke’s “Get Yourself Another Fool.” I dragged myself to look beyond the horizon with the Carpenters’s “We’ve Only Just Begun” and “No More Tears( Enough Is Enough)” by Donna Summer and Barbara Streisand. I began the next section of renewel with “Believe” by Cher.

Years ago I had a friend who was working in Yugoslavia as the civil war was ending. Cher’s song was new then, and he said when the peace accord was signed, people ran into the street and blasted that song. Thus, he had loved that song ever since. I figured if people who survived genocide and total civil unrest could look forward, I certainly could over some cash. I reminded myself of all that I have and that “They Can’t Take that Away from Me” (Fred Astaire) not “My Favorite Things” (Julie Andrews).

I wrapped up with “Not Going to Cry ” by Mary J. Blige, “The Best Is Yet to Come” by Tony Bennett, and finally, “Let’s Hang On” by Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons.

And then I ate a bowl of cereal and wondered if the drapes would fit windows in another house.

7 thoughts on “The Stages 1) Sadness 2) Barf 3) a Mix Tape

  1. I love the idea of the mix tape! And I continue to appreciate you sharing your story. I agree that talking about it helps you and those around you.

  2. My mouth is agape at the thought of how you managed to keep this all inside. How did you do that, since Christmas???? See, you don’t even KNOW HOW AMAZING YOU ARE. I can only guess at how good it must feel to finally be able to talk. It is awful keeping a secret. My husband didn’t want to tell anyone that we have to sell and move with his parents, but I was starting to sink into a deep depression from having to fake it and lie. I just said, “you know what, I’m talking.” And it feels so good to not be quiet…why should we be, we didn’t do anything wrong.

    We lost a ton in stocks, our house plummeted in value, my husband’s dept at work was eliminated, and my position at school was taken up by another woman. (she works a double caseload now.)

    Such is life. But I’m healthy (physically, anyway..haha), my husban’ds healthy, my kids are doing great. It’s just a house, and we’re down to one car, and going to live with my in laws. All my beautiful books are going to Half Price Books.

    It all makes for a new path in life.

    I’m still amazed at how you plodded along, not skipping a beat: following your blog, I never would’ve guessed. Enjoy coming out!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Thank you and bless you for your honesty. You can tell at how I can’t shuttup right now that it feels GOOD to know someone understands living with panic puntuated with moments of sheer terror. love you, honey. And Mark couldn’t have married a finer woman.

  3. I am sorry for your loss – and you have every right to grieve the passing of your sense of security. I do appreciate your openness- this puts a very human face on Madoffs victims.

  4. passing of sense of security, well put Kelly. thank you.
    Alexandra, you give me too much credit, but thank you. I did have shame at first like we had done something wrong. That was part of the reason I didn’t want to speak about it. The folks who we did talk to were so supportive and outraged for us that it helped. I also felt for awhile I didn’t want to “burden” my readers. I’ve always felt the one thing I can do for humanity is give people a chuckle every once in a while.

    Now, you got caught on so many levels. That is so unfortunate. Glad you keep your humor. Have you already sold the books you love? Would you allow me to “buy” a couple from you? Then I’ll send them back to you when you get your own house again. I found resale is so lousy, sometimes it’s not worth selling stuff.

  5. The drummer for Back Porch Mary is my friend, Ryan! I was so happy to see on your blog that you are listening to them! I do a few things in the music industry, so it is always great to see when your friends are recognized for their great music!!

    P.S. Fiona Apple is a really great one to listen to when you are super pissed off (or sad).

  6. Thank you for sharing your experience. I admire how you are just moving forward and recognizing the emotions to deal with them as best you can.

  7. Thanks gals!
    Natalie, I admire bands these days! So hard to get noticed with all the record stores closed down. Don’t know how I found them…

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