I want to go home.
I’m tired of having no job and nowhere to live.
WYFP is our community's Saturday evening gathering to talk about our problems, empathize with one another, and share advice, pet pictures, favorite adult beverages, and anything else that we think might help. Everyone and all sorts of troubles are welcome. May we find peace and healing here. Won't you please share the joy of WYFP by recommending?
Here’s my abbreviated tale of woe:
I left my full-time job in December, 2005 to attend the Law School of Last Resort (It was the only one that accepted me, which should have been a sign to just not go.) I had hoped a law degree would provide the tools for me to take on language policy issues: endangered languages as well as "official" language choices (for example, helping a district work out what language(s) should be used for instruction).
I gave the worst academic performance of my life and was back on the job market in June 2007.
While I attended YearlyKos 2007, my condo sold after being on the market for one day. If I couldn’t make the mortgage, I had to try to unload it before facing foreclosure.
I packed most of my possessions into two large storage crates in September 2007 and moved in with my sister and her husband. I worked a little bit doing graphic design for my mother’s small business. I didn’t want another part-time job. Between bouts of deep depression, I just knew any day I’d land a job and get my stuff back.
Then the following June I moved in with one of my best friends and her family for almost ten months. I continued my job hunt, worked part-time at a grocery store, and helped my friend with childcare. Every couple months I had an awkward chat with my friend to make sure I hadn’t worn out my welcome yet.
When another good friend needed help with her aging mother, I moved into the mother’s basement last March. I was able to transfer my grocery job and help my friend out by being around for her mother, who needs some assistance with chores and shopping. That lasted until late September, when the mother decided she didn’t need my help any more.
So I had to quit the grocery job and move 150 miles away to stay with my mother. It was either that or live in my car. I’ve been here about 12 days and good ol’ Mom is already fuming that I haven’t found a job yet. Among other things...but that’s another diary.
I miss my stuff that's in storage.
For me, home would be any apartment that’s all mine. Where I can simply live.
But I can’t have a home until I find a good enough job, the heart of MFP.
I’ve applied for hundreds of jobs in the past two years. I get so tired of pasting my work history into different résumé formats and online applications. I'm sick of my own details. I want someone else's life.
No, I don't lie on the apps. My credentials and past experience used to be enough to get me interviews. Now I never get interviews. I'm thrilled to get rejection letters. At least somebody read my stuff!
I don't want any more job search advice. I can find plenty of listings. I just want someone to say, "I know someone who's hiring. When can you start?"
I don't know how much longer I can take the roller coaster of emotions: the highs from getting an interview and thinking about the possibility of moving on my own again, followed by the lows of rejection.
This slump has lasted far longer than I'd thought. No livable income makes every minor crisis a major one.
Bicycle accident? No health insurance, so I had to pay $700 for treatment, with some $300 up front.
Car accident? At least the insurance money worked out better than I’d hoped. But until I knew it would, I couldn’t even say, "Well, at least I could live in my car."
Root canal? Postponed indefinitely.
What really hurts are the things I cannot do because of my transient existence. For example, both my parents turn 60 years old this fall and I'm in no position to throw parties.
Life isn’t always bad. I’m grateful for my friends and family who have let me stay with them rent-free.
And being able to lurk here and feel that with all the shit in the world, not all of it’s mine and some people are still worse off than I.
Thank you for reading this moan from a dedicated WYFP lurker.
Better luck next week!