Losing looks different from here

Turns out a local station was doing one of those “Where is she now?” kind of pieces.

About me.

About my new book, “Hope Possible: A Network News Anchor’s Thoughts On Losing Her Job, Finding Love, A New Career, and My Dog, Always My Dog.”

The reporter did a beautiful piece capturing much of what the book is about, my new life since leaving CNN.

She showed this column, my family, the one I never thought I would have, my website, the book.

Even DarlaDog, the crazy three-legged cat and the backyard chickens made brief appearances.

The cat is still complaining her sound bite was too short.

Such is her life.

Then, came the moment.

The part where they come out to the awesome reporter sitting on the set with the news anchor and the weather guy.

Weather guy says, “Hmmm. So reinvent yourself, right?” Said it with all the passion and interest of having watched a story on collecting Himalayan moth postage stamps.

There was that tone.

That sense that losing a job has nothing to do with him.

I’m one of THOSE people who have.

Not him.

Nope.

Not him.

I instantly understood.

This guy was looking at me, at my story, from the other side of loss.

There’s a good chance you know the look, Dear Reader.

You, who have lost your husband.

You, who have lost your good health.

You, who have lost your kid in a mental health downward spiral.

You who have lost.

The Look.

The Look from others who assume loss happened to you like you caught a nasty virus.

It will never happen to them.

That weather guy is right, in a way.

I am a loser, in that I am one who has lost.

Frankly, I prefer to be on this side of loss.

To now know that everything ends.

The boss who let me go was let go by his boss who was also eventually let go by the company.

Every job, every relationship, every life.

They end.

To know that is no longer sad to me.

It is a gift.

To know to appreciate things, people, situations, while they are here.

To know that yes, I will lose again.

And to know that, though it will not be fun, or what I would’ve picked, I can and will pick myself up and put pieces back together again, most likely in a different package.

You only know that once you’ve been through it.

Once you’ve lost.

Those looks of pity, of “you, not me” used to hurt.

They no longer do.

Now, they inspire compassion.

For those on the other side of the losing fence.

They will join us on this side, eventually.

Us Losers.

Life’s storms guarantee that.

We didn’t catch something they won’t.

We simply know what they can’t.

Not quite yet.

Daryn Kagan is the author of “Hope Possible: A Network News Anchor’s Thoughts On Losing Her Job, Finding Love, A New Career, And My Dog, Always My Dog.” Email her at Daryn@darynkagan.com.