last week, after a year an a half of looking for work, a year of being mostly unemployed, and three more unanswered resume submissions, i reached a point i've never reached in my life. it wasn't avoidance or procrastination. i didn't feel depressed or sad or at the end of my rope emotionally. i was just done. done done done. after a seemingly interminable period of struggle and great weariness, my ability to continue came to a sudden, sharp end. i simply couldn't make myself do any more.
fortunate, then, that i had an upcoming interview with whole foods. though it felt like a last-ditch effort, a bandaid on a bullet wound, it is literally the only door that has opened. so i move forward willingly, gratefully into a new reality.
though it's not what i dreamed for my next step, i take comfort in simple details: no getting up before 6 a.m., a two mile commute, wearing what i want, a discount on fabulous food, time to work on my own stuff, new friendships, health insurance...and best of all, i can QUIT LOOKING!
Thursday, August 27, 2015
Monday, June 15, 2015
laryn-job-itis
the day i received my final unemployment check, i also got a job offer. it was the day after my birthday. i clicked my heels together and marveled at the timing. i thanked God, drank margaritas with friends, and felt like i could start living my life again.
i had shown up for the interview exactly on time, harried from unexpected midday traffic that had eaten up my thirty-minute punctuality buffer, so i forgot to turn off my turn-by-turn directions app. as I opened the door to the silent office and stepped inside, a disembodied voice spoke from my pocket, "You have arrived!"
i had arrived. or so i believed. though i was closing in on another job, one i would probably have enjoyed more, it also paid a less and had an irregular schedule. so i took the first offer and assumed that was it.
that wasn't it, though.
in a mere six weeks, my job was changed so i was no longer qualified, and i was dumped, stunned, back into unemployment. so here i am again, weltering away. employment made me realize a few things about unemployment, and that's what i'd like to share.
though i don't believe what we do for work is necessarily who we are or that it should measure our value, being unemployed made me feel deeply invalid. i felt like someone might stop me in a store or a restaurant and rightly question what i was doing there. "lauren, don't you know, you could run out of money. what on earth are you doing buying a coffee?" the day i got a job, i heaved a massive internal sigh of relief. suddenly i was valid again. suddenly i could afford to splurge on lunch, or have car trouble, or go to the doctor.
unemployment made my voice feel smaller, strangled, almost silent. when i met someone new and they asked what i do, i felt trapped. how do i prove that i'm worth something when i don't have an answer? should i skirt the truth or tell it? without fail, telling the truth results in a conversation about your search, which, after any amount of time, just suuuuucks. the last thing i want is to spitball with a stranger about finding jobs. have i thought of every good idea in the world? no, surely not. but i have been doing this search thing for a year now, and i will be shocked if your 20-second solution blows any doors open.
do i sound bitter? i am, a little. if you genuinely want to help, invite me to have coffee (offer to pay; i'll love you for it) and say you'd love to see if we can come up with any new ideas together. if you're not ready to do that, simply express your utter dismay and change the topic. let's talk about the atomic structure of diamonds, cultivating topiaries, BuzzFeed videos, anything. i love when someone genuinely wants to help, but drive-by "help" usually just hurts.
sometimes people treat you like you just casually dropped your STI into conversation; they're eyeing you, deciding if you did something to deserve it. struggling to feel your own worth and then feeling like you have to prove it to someone else, constantly, is doubly depressing. and you are having to prove it, daily, in every cover letter and resume. i'm so weary of explaining and cataloguing my value for someone else; i just want to be me and quit trying to define me.
so the route i take now is not a bad one: i'm focusing on the positive. i tell people what i do (make underwear, whee!), and skip over what i don't do, which is support myself. :) somehow being brought back to this place the second time has been good for me; my voice has returned, and i plan to use it.
i had shown up for the interview exactly on time, harried from unexpected midday traffic that had eaten up my thirty-minute punctuality buffer, so i forgot to turn off my turn-by-turn directions app. as I opened the door to the silent office and stepped inside, a disembodied voice spoke from my pocket, "You have arrived!"
i had arrived. or so i believed. though i was closing in on another job, one i would probably have enjoyed more, it also paid a less and had an irregular schedule. so i took the first offer and assumed that was it.
that wasn't it, though.
in a mere six weeks, my job was changed so i was no longer qualified, and i was dumped, stunned, back into unemployment. so here i am again, weltering away. employment made me realize a few things about unemployment, and that's what i'd like to share.
though i don't believe what we do for work is necessarily who we are or that it should measure our value, being unemployed made me feel deeply invalid. i felt like someone might stop me in a store or a restaurant and rightly question what i was doing there. "lauren, don't you know, you could run out of money. what on earth are you doing buying a coffee?" the day i got a job, i heaved a massive internal sigh of relief. suddenly i was valid again. suddenly i could afford to splurge on lunch, or have car trouble, or go to the doctor.
unemployment made my voice feel smaller, strangled, almost silent. when i met someone new and they asked what i do, i felt trapped. how do i prove that i'm worth something when i don't have an answer? should i skirt the truth or tell it? without fail, telling the truth results in a conversation about your search, which, after any amount of time, just suuuuucks. the last thing i want is to spitball with a stranger about finding jobs. have i thought of every good idea in the world? no, surely not. but i have been doing this search thing for a year now, and i will be shocked if your 20-second solution blows any doors open.
do i sound bitter? i am, a little. if you genuinely want to help, invite me to have coffee (offer to pay; i'll love you for it) and say you'd love to see if we can come up with any new ideas together. if you're not ready to do that, simply express your utter dismay and change the topic. let's talk about the atomic structure of diamonds, cultivating topiaries, BuzzFeed videos, anything. i love when someone genuinely wants to help, but drive-by "help" usually just hurts.
sometimes people treat you like you just casually dropped your STI into conversation; they're eyeing you, deciding if you did something to deserve it. struggling to feel your own worth and then feeling like you have to prove it to someone else, constantly, is doubly depressing. and you are having to prove it, daily, in every cover letter and resume. i'm so weary of explaining and cataloguing my value for someone else; i just want to be me and quit trying to define me.
so the route i take now is not a bad one: i'm focusing on the positive. i tell people what i do (make underwear, whee!), and skip over what i don't do, which is support myself. :) somehow being brought back to this place the second time has been good for me; my voice has returned, and i plan to use it.
Friday, October 10, 2014
like swimming not falling
it's been three months since my job ended. i expected it to feel like i was falling, flailing, hurtling towards my doom. it didn't, though. work ending was a lot more like being underwater. sound is distorted and difficult to understand, and getting anywhere requires more effort than just moving through air. because something tangible separates you from other people, it's easy to feel alone.
i realized for the first time in my adult life i wasn't subject to someone else's schedule for me. no one expected me to show up...anywhere. that alone was surreal. i wasn't structuring my life around anything. i realized how much i liked that freedom and felt a little guilty about it.
i have been plodding on. this period of searching feels interminable; will it really ever end? how do i continue to find energy to do it? it's at once surprising how long the days can feel and yet how hard it is to get anything done. doors remain firmly closed, iron clad. i could tell you all the things i've done to meet people and make connections and find work, but this isn't really about that. i just want to tell you how it feels.
job hunting is like doing a job i hate and am terrible at and then not getting paid for it. it's grueling, merciless, impersonal. i want connection and satisfaction and rest. i never imagined a full-time job would feel like rest.
with health insurance holding a sharpened stick (still waiting to hear from medi-cal about other options), and unemployment an insufficient transfusion, i am bleeding money. this week i made the decision that was my Worst Case Scenario: giving up my apartment. this is a great sadness for me because it's a sanctuary; my cozy little nest; my first california home. also, it feels like failure. i couldn't do it. i couldn't find a job quickly enough to save myself. before i use up all my money simply trying to stay here, i must surrender it.
i have two options, offers extended by people who are willing to sacrifice some of their own comfort to help me. this is simply amazing. my Worst Case Scenario ended in me moving back to colorado. though that isn't a terrible plan B, i feel strongly, deeply that i need to be here. i'm fighting to stay.
my options:
1. live in a friend's second bedroom. he's offered to make a place for me--even giving me some room in the garage for a workspace--but he lives 30 minutes away. not the end of the world, i know, but it's a smaller, more remote town. i don't know anyone there; it would feel a lot like starting over. plus, my work studio is here, so i'd have to spend gas money going back and forth. however, the house is tidy and there's a big window in "my" room--a luxury i haven't enjoyed for two years.
2. live in a friend's half-finished downstairs unit. it doesn't have a kitchen and is chilly and a bit rough around the edges, but i would still be in my community. i would still have my own space (a big one at that) and be close to my work studio. i can share her kitchen, but i know i'd feel like i was disrupting her and her spouse's privacy. improvements could be made (painting, cooktop, convection oven, fridge), but would it be too cold? would it take too much money to make it work? i do feel kinda excited about fixing it up, and there would be enough room to keep sewing at home as i do currently.
in a lot of ways, i feel like living in japan has prepared me for option 2. i endured four humid-cold winters with no insulation or central heat. i lived under the kotatsu (still an option), slept with hot water bottles, and hovered around space heaters. i had a fridge, heater, and cooktop but lived without an oven. i know i could do it, of course i could, but home isn't something you want to have to endure.
what would you do?
i realized for the first time in my adult life i wasn't subject to someone else's schedule for me. no one expected me to show up...anywhere. that alone was surreal. i wasn't structuring my life around anything. i realized how much i liked that freedom and felt a little guilty about it.
i have been plodding on. this period of searching feels interminable; will it really ever end? how do i continue to find energy to do it? it's at once surprising how long the days can feel and yet how hard it is to get anything done. doors remain firmly closed, iron clad. i could tell you all the things i've done to meet people and make connections and find work, but this isn't really about that. i just want to tell you how it feels.
job hunting is like doing a job i hate and am terrible at and then not getting paid for it. it's grueling, merciless, impersonal. i want connection and satisfaction and rest. i never imagined a full-time job would feel like rest.
with health insurance holding a sharpened stick (still waiting to hear from medi-cal about other options), and unemployment an insufficient transfusion, i am bleeding money. this week i made the decision that was my Worst Case Scenario: giving up my apartment. this is a great sadness for me because it's a sanctuary; my cozy little nest; my first california home. also, it feels like failure. i couldn't do it. i couldn't find a job quickly enough to save myself. before i use up all my money simply trying to stay here, i must surrender it.
i have two options, offers extended by people who are willing to sacrifice some of their own comfort to help me. this is simply amazing. my Worst Case Scenario ended in me moving back to colorado. though that isn't a terrible plan B, i feel strongly, deeply that i need to be here. i'm fighting to stay.
my options:
1. live in a friend's second bedroom. he's offered to make a place for me--even giving me some room in the garage for a workspace--but he lives 30 minutes away. not the end of the world, i know, but it's a smaller, more remote town. i don't know anyone there; it would feel a lot like starting over. plus, my work studio is here, so i'd have to spend gas money going back and forth. however, the house is tidy and there's a big window in "my" room--a luxury i haven't enjoyed for two years.
2. live in a friend's half-finished downstairs unit. it doesn't have a kitchen and is chilly and a bit rough around the edges, but i would still be in my community. i would still have my own space (a big one at that) and be close to my work studio. i can share her kitchen, but i know i'd feel like i was disrupting her and her spouse's privacy. improvements could be made (painting, cooktop, convection oven, fridge), but would it be too cold? would it take too much money to make it work? i do feel kinda excited about fixing it up, and there would be enough room to keep sewing at home as i do currently.
in a lot of ways, i feel like living in japan has prepared me for option 2. i endured four humid-cold winters with no insulation or central heat. i lived under the kotatsu (still an option), slept with hot water bottles, and hovered around space heaters. i had a fridge, heater, and cooktop but lived without an oven. i know i could do it, of course i could, but home isn't something you want to have to endure.
what would you do?
Thursday, June 26, 2014
thin air
a month ago, i felt like the end--my last day of work--was the edge, and i was accelerating towards it against my will. the closer it has gotten, though, the more time has expanded, and now i'm hurling in slow motion through the last silent days.
yet here i am at the edge. i am getting ready to go over into, what is for me, uncharted territory. the shadowlands. i feel calm, so unlike the panic i felt four months ago, so unlike me. as one old friend said, commenting on my massively unusual peace, "you're under grace." i am under SO much grace; it's like a blanket that's heavy in the best way, secure around me as my mind fusses and fights, wondering endlessly if i'll be able to stay, if i'll succeed.
surprisingly, the process of facing unemployment has had many positive outcomes:
i have been saying "yes" more. rather than putting off things i want to do, i have been living more like i might not have the same opportunities again. that means spending time with people, volunteering for a JET orientation, and going on a "jobsearch-free" vacation with my mom next week.
i have become aware of how selfishly i spend my time. all those evenings knitting in front of the tv. i could have spent at least one here and there doing something for someone else, and now i want to. feeling an urgent need for something has made me want to answer a need in return.
i have come closer to opening an etsy store in two months than i have come in four years of wanting to. making creative decisions and sewing beautiful things has balanced the eye-stabbing misery of pouring monumental energy, time, and passion into resumes that receive nothing but automated responses, while continuing to work full time. i will soon be unemployed and will simultaneously open my first business. what timing!
for months i have been wrapped in prayer by people far and wide. i'm certain that is why i'm not having a nervous breakdown right now. i have prayed from the beginning, "God, let me trust you." step by step, interesting doors have been opening. now i'm at the end of solid ground, and i'm stepping over the precipice, trusting the path i cannot see will be firm beneath my feet.
Wednesday, May 7, 2014
my promised land
it's so quiet.
sunday, midday. in the hour before the catholic church lets out and whips up their weekly spanish party with an ice cream truck that plays "pop goes the weasel" at breakneck speed for 30 minutes, it's incredibly quiet.
i've weathered more than two months of clamorous, frenetic thoughts hounding me every moment i'm not working or sleeping to, "find a job! find a job! find a job!" i'm at once frantic and apathetic, eager for it to be too late at night to continue working so i can finally let myself have a break. my mind is pretty frenetic anyway. it's always telling me something i should be doing (which is rarely what i am doing), but after a good cry in church--the only place i know where you can have a good, private cry in a room of people and no one thinks it's strange--i came home to a very quiet apartment building. my mind is quiet too. it feels like the movie is paused, and i can live in the stillness for a few minutes.
i haven't found a job.
so...that sucks.
in processing this, i think, "i'm glad i didn't get a cat. i'm glad i'm not a single mom." i'm thankful no one is depending on me, but i'm also sorry i don't have someone with whom to travel through this. my mom has been doing a great job long distance, and i have terrific friends, but it's difficult to need something that takes time, and very humbling, because people get tired of you needing it. most people are, on some level, repelled by need. we don't know what to do, how to encourage, when we can't see change.
often i've been asked cheerfully, "so, how's the job hunt going?" which is, 99% percent of the time, super discouraging to answer unless it's over! i wish people would just ask, "how are you doing?" what runs through my mind is, "how can you be so cheerful? this feels desperate! i am the only person in my life who can support me. i don't have parents with money to pinch hit if i run out. the money i do have saved, which isn't much, has come from careful budgeting. what if i use it all up and still haven't found a job that pays enough? what is to become of me?!" of course most people don't know all that, and it isn't really an appropriate burden for them to bear; it's mine.
one of my goals in this journey has been to sidestep the victim mentality. God has allowed me to revisit this place (it's my third visit), and each time, the stakes are higher. this place is familiar, unfortunately, but that tells me it's a place i really need to be in order to grow. i know he wants me to learn by repetition and experience that he has me. it won't be a painless journey, because our depth and compassion grow in difficulty, but he is always here.
i also remind myself, "he is above all circumstances," which for our earthbound bodies, is so difficult to believe. i can be on my last cent, and he could change everything. for me personally, with a father who chose not to be part of my life, it is exceptionally hard to believe he would do that for me. this is something it may take a long time to fully accept, but i believe it more and more. that he treasures me, that he wants to give me the best, that he will at the right time.
mentally i try to prepare for the worst: running out of money; getting evicted; having no choice but to return to colorado, live in my mom's tiny house, and take another inane food service job. i'm already going through my belongings in my head, deciding what i'd have to get rid of (all furniture but the bed) and what i would keep (yarn, clothes, dishes). i'm weary of being impermanent. i've moved 35 times in my 35 years. my things are stored in plastic drawers because they're easy to move, but i'm dying to put down roots.
this has felt like my Promised Land, the place i've been waiting my life to find. the rolling hills with gnarled oak trees, the creative and interesting people my age, the proximity to the city and the beach; it's the landscape of my heart. i came here to stay, but what if i can't make it?
sunday, midday. in the hour before the catholic church lets out and whips up their weekly spanish party with an ice cream truck that plays "pop goes the weasel" at breakneck speed for 30 minutes, it's incredibly quiet.
i've weathered more than two months of clamorous, frenetic thoughts hounding me every moment i'm not working or sleeping to, "find a job! find a job! find a job!" i'm at once frantic and apathetic, eager for it to be too late at night to continue working so i can finally let myself have a break. my mind is pretty frenetic anyway. it's always telling me something i should be doing (which is rarely what i am doing), but after a good cry in church--the only place i know where you can have a good, private cry in a room of people and no one thinks it's strange--i came home to a very quiet apartment building. my mind is quiet too. it feels like the movie is paused, and i can live in the stillness for a few minutes.
i haven't found a job.
so...that sucks.
in processing this, i think, "i'm glad i didn't get a cat. i'm glad i'm not a single mom." i'm thankful no one is depending on me, but i'm also sorry i don't have someone with whom to travel through this. my mom has been doing a great job long distance, and i have terrific friends, but it's difficult to need something that takes time, and very humbling, because people get tired of you needing it. most people are, on some level, repelled by need. we don't know what to do, how to encourage, when we can't see change.
often i've been asked cheerfully, "so, how's the job hunt going?" which is, 99% percent of the time, super discouraging to answer unless it's over! i wish people would just ask, "how are you doing?" what runs through my mind is, "how can you be so cheerful? this feels desperate! i am the only person in my life who can support me. i don't have parents with money to pinch hit if i run out. the money i do have saved, which isn't much, has come from careful budgeting. what if i use it all up and still haven't found a job that pays enough? what is to become of me?!" of course most people don't know all that, and it isn't really an appropriate burden for them to bear; it's mine.
one of my goals in this journey has been to sidestep the victim mentality. God has allowed me to revisit this place (it's my third visit), and each time, the stakes are higher. this place is familiar, unfortunately, but that tells me it's a place i really need to be in order to grow. i know he wants me to learn by repetition and experience that he has me. it won't be a painless journey, because our depth and compassion grow in difficulty, but he is always here.
i also remind myself, "he is above all circumstances," which for our earthbound bodies, is so difficult to believe. i can be on my last cent, and he could change everything. for me personally, with a father who chose not to be part of my life, it is exceptionally hard to believe he would do that for me. this is something it may take a long time to fully accept, but i believe it more and more. that he treasures me, that he wants to give me the best, that he will at the right time.
mentally i try to prepare for the worst: running out of money; getting evicted; having no choice but to return to colorado, live in my mom's tiny house, and take another inane food service job. i'm already going through my belongings in my head, deciding what i'd have to get rid of (all furniture but the bed) and what i would keep (yarn, clothes, dishes). i'm weary of being impermanent. i've moved 35 times in my 35 years. my things are stored in plastic drawers because they're easy to move, but i'm dying to put down roots.
this has felt like my Promised Land, the place i've been waiting my life to find. the rolling hills with gnarled oak trees, the creative and interesting people my age, the proximity to the city and the beach; it's the landscape of my heart. i came here to stay, but what if i can't make it?
Saturday, March 8, 2014
hello.
i'm reading a book called Storyline, which is about figuring out and living your best story. it couldn't be better timing for me; i've been trying to figure out my direction since i finished college, ugh, twelve years ago! i've had some opportunities little kid Lauren never would've imagined, but i feel like i'm wasting my strengths, and that drives me crazy. i'm a little proud, too. i was the "smart one" all through school, and now i'm humbled, humiliated even, by my own aimlessness.
how can i not have a dream? one vivid, undeniable dream? my original plan was to get a master's in art and become a professor, but i got stuck. painting didn't feel sustainable; it required blood. it never gave me anything back until i had finished. it was hours of doubts clutching at my throat, and i stabbed and stabbed with my brush until i finally had them on the run again.
printmaking turned out to be a place i found freedom from the doubts. there was so much process involved. i could lose myself in the details; that's all i really want to do. why didn't i study printmaking? hell, now i don't know. why not writing? i mean, this is the most fun i've had all week.
[short recess for a dance party to Low. killer bass.]
the one thing i did know when i left japan was that i wanted to move to california; it just felt like the place for me. north or south? i didn't really care, i just didn't want to be cold all of the time. i actually never thought i would make it; i'm not a risk taker. haha! two people have said to me in the last week, "i'm not a risk-taker like you," and i just have a big internal cackle. if you consider moving to japan alone without knowing the language a risk...well, i guess it did require some courage, but it wasn't a risk. i had a job and a place to live waiting for me.
this was a risk: moving my entire life to california on the promise of 6 months of part time work. it felt like my one chance, though. i had to try. i don't think it's an accident that i'm here. there is so much going on in this area that it blows my mind. i mean, so much i'm actually interested in. i would have liked more than a year to get my feet on the ground, but i believe in God's Perfect Timing. i don't think that means it will be easy or even that it will end up how i want, but when i got past crisis mode (three days ago?), i started to, like, enjoy the adventure of it. isn't that insane?
i lost my job at the perfect time; i just don't know what it's perfect for yet.
i'm reading a book called Storyline, which is about figuring out and living your best story. it couldn't be better timing for me; i've been trying to figure out my direction since i finished college, ugh, twelve years ago! i've had some opportunities little kid Lauren never would've imagined, but i feel like i'm wasting my strengths, and that drives me crazy. i'm a little proud, too. i was the "smart one" all through school, and now i'm humbled, humiliated even, by my own aimlessness.
how can i not have a dream? one vivid, undeniable dream? my original plan was to get a master's in art and become a professor, but i got stuck. painting didn't feel sustainable; it required blood. it never gave me anything back until i had finished. it was hours of doubts clutching at my throat, and i stabbed and stabbed with my brush until i finally had them on the run again.
printmaking turned out to be a place i found freedom from the doubts. there was so much process involved. i could lose myself in the details; that's all i really want to do. why didn't i study printmaking? hell, now i don't know. why not writing? i mean, this is the most fun i've had all week.
[short recess for a dance party to Low. killer bass.]
the one thing i did know when i left japan was that i wanted to move to california; it just felt like the place for me. north or south? i didn't really care, i just didn't want to be cold all of the time. i actually never thought i would make it; i'm not a risk taker. haha! two people have said to me in the last week, "i'm not a risk-taker like you," and i just have a big internal cackle. if you consider moving to japan alone without knowing the language a risk...well, i guess it did require some courage, but it wasn't a risk. i had a job and a place to live waiting for me.
this was a risk: moving my entire life to california on the promise of 6 months of part time work. it felt like my one chance, though. i had to try. i don't think it's an accident that i'm here. there is so much going on in this area that it blows my mind. i mean, so much i'm actually interested in. i would have liked more than a year to get my feet on the ground, but i believe in God's Perfect Timing. i don't think that means it will be easy or even that it will end up how i want, but when i got past crisis mode (three days ago?), i started to, like, enjoy the adventure of it. isn't that insane?
i lost my job at the perfect time; i just don't know what it's perfect for yet.
Monday, March 3, 2014
my kryptonite
i woke smelling fresh air that had forced its way through the cracks of my vintage apartment. several days of hard rain is being steamed out of the grass by unexpected sun, and the wind is just wild enough to be thrilling. trees are tossing gusts of cool humidity into the sky. sitting in a kitchen sunbeam, it's almost too hot for tea, but it tastes good anyway. today feels alive and hopeful. i can almost forget that i'm losing my hair and my job.
two weeks ago, the day i dreaded came and went; the little company where i've been working went belly up1. as i listened to the heartbroken owner, i couldn't stop shaking. my hands, my legs, my jaw--vibrating like a Magic Fingers bed. i had to wrap my arms around my legs just to hold myself together.
i couldn't eat. i'm the hungriest person of all time, and i couldn't get anything down. i lost two pounds in 24 hours. i couldn't sleep. i tossed around sweaty and tense with dread hanging over me like the Death Star.
looking for a job is my kryptonite.
if stress couldn't explain before why my hair has lost its will to live, it probably can now.
but...thanks to the support and prayers of my awesome friends, i have been living large for weeks now--eating and sleeping like i just don't care. i am absolutely uncertain about what lies ahead for me in four months time, but then, we're really all in that place together. anything can happen.
something definitely will.
1. [They have kindly given me 4 months notice.]↩
two weeks ago, the day i dreaded came and went; the little company where i've been working went belly up1. as i listened to the heartbroken owner, i couldn't stop shaking. my hands, my legs, my jaw--vibrating like a Magic Fingers bed. i had to wrap my arms around my legs just to hold myself together.
i couldn't eat. i'm the hungriest person of all time, and i couldn't get anything down. i lost two pounds in 24 hours. i couldn't sleep. i tossed around sweaty and tense with dread hanging over me like the Death Star.
looking for a job is my kryptonite.
if stress couldn't explain before why my hair has lost its will to live, it probably can now.
but...thanks to the support and prayers of my awesome friends, i have been living large for weeks now--eating and sleeping like i just don't care. i am absolutely uncertain about what lies ahead for me in four months time, but then, we're really all in that place together. anything can happen.
something definitely will.
1. [They have kindly given me 4 months notice.]↩
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)